[ Right after he rises to his feet, Zel spots a figure in his peripheral vision, and there is Rezo, asleep again in the armchair. That must mean every patient in the inn has had Resurrection cast on them. All these people, the sickest of the sick, are a step closer to being healed.
Shaking off a light dizziness, he watches Rezo. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest makes Zelgadis want to sit back down and keep sleeping. But it's for the best if one of them remains awake, so he refrains.
Rezo seems so human these past days. Even before the betrayal, Zelgadis had spent enough time with Rezo to learn of his mundane habits, his unglamorous foibles, and still there was always something about him that seemed untouchable. Out of reach. From the start until now Zelgadis had mythologized him. A hero, a villain, the greatest, the worst...
All childish perceptions. He thinks he ought to be annoyed with himself. Instead he's relieved that reality is, for once, a lot more simple than he thought it to be.
Having regained some of his strength, Zel turns his attention to the patients, wanting to assess their conditions for himself for thoroughness' sake. That, and there's precious little else for him to do.
He's just as embarrassed as he was two hours ago about every person here being an audience to the Greywords Family Drama, and were it not for his sense of responsibility he would be the first person ever recorded to grow catatonic from cringe. Or maybe even die. You can probably die from that.
Zel does his best impression of a person with intact dignity as he makes the rounds and concludes his initial assumption was right: Rezo did take care of the rest of the patients. ]
It's a lot to ask, but hang in there. It'll be worth it. Your life isn't something you can replace.
[ He knows he's no motivational speaker, but his awkward effort comes from the heart.
...God, he hopes they're doing the right thing.
Or in this case, the least wrong thing.
He hears footsteps; the innkeeper is coming down the stairs. Urk. He forgot there's one person here who's well enough to comment on what she must have overheard. He hastily makes a last-ditch effort to scrub the blood off of his face and then he preempts her before she can speak a word. ]
We've made considerable headway. If the patients here are responding to the treatments -- and they are -- that bodes well for the rest of the village.
[ "You both have done so much for us already, at great cost to yourselves. Please, rest as much you need."
In spite of that cost, Zel thinks, he's managed to gain something too. That's unbearably sappy, however, so instead he tells her he's experienced worse. It is true.
The innkeeper doesn't ask about what happened with Rezo earlier, either out of politeness or discomfort with broaching the subject. Instead she tells him she's been going through the inn's storage room, looking for extra medical supplies.
"I've found everything but anything useful," she says, "though that old guitar would shed a bit of the gloom if there were anyone left to play." ]
I can play guitar.
[ And a few minutes later, Zel finds himself holding the guitar in question. The innkeeper, looking nearly as happy as she did when Rezo first appeared in the village, eagerly explains that the guitar was left behind by a guest that never came back to retrieve it, and has seen a lot of use from other guests over the years, only finding itself stored away to make room for the patients. ]
I didn't... Uh...
[ Didn't think she'd want him to play it right now. Rezo's still sleeping, for one thing, and it's very sudden besides. Didn't she just tell him to rest...?
But she's obviously desperate for some kind of reprieve from the constant misery, and Zel caves to the hopeful look on her face.
Zel wracks his brain for a minute, and then begins to play a song. ]
no subject
Shaking off a light dizziness, he watches Rezo. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest makes Zelgadis want to sit back down and keep sleeping. But it's for the best if one of them remains awake, so he refrains.
Rezo seems so human these past days. Even before the betrayal, Zelgadis had spent enough time with Rezo to learn of his mundane habits, his unglamorous foibles, and still there was always something about him that seemed untouchable. Out of reach. From the start until now Zelgadis had mythologized him. A hero, a villain, the greatest, the worst...
All childish perceptions. He thinks he ought to be annoyed with himself. Instead he's relieved that reality is, for once, a lot more simple than he thought it to be.
Having regained some of his strength, Zel turns his attention to the patients, wanting to assess their conditions for himself for thoroughness' sake. That, and there's precious little else for him to do.
He's just as embarrassed as he was two hours ago about every person here being an audience to the Greywords Family Drama, and were it not for his sense of responsibility he would be the first person ever recorded to grow catatonic from cringe. Or maybe even die. You can probably die from that.
Zel does his best impression of a person with intact dignity as he makes the rounds and concludes his initial assumption was right: Rezo did take care of the rest of the patients. ]
It's a lot to ask, but hang in there. It'll be worth it. Your life isn't something you can replace.
[ He knows he's no motivational speaker, but his awkward effort comes from the heart.
...God, he hopes they're doing the right thing.
Or in this case, the least wrong thing.
He hears footsteps; the innkeeper is coming down the stairs. Urk. He forgot there's one person here who's well enough to comment on what she must have overheard. He hastily makes a last-ditch effort to scrub the blood off of his face and then he preempts her before she can speak a word. ]
We've made considerable headway. If the patients here are responding to the treatments -- and they are -- that bodes well for the rest of the village.
[ "You both have done so much for us already, at great cost to yourselves. Please, rest as much you need."
In spite of that cost, Zel thinks, he's managed to gain something too. That's unbearably sappy, however, so instead he tells her he's experienced worse. It is true.
The innkeeper doesn't ask about what happened with Rezo earlier, either out of politeness or discomfort with broaching the subject. Instead she tells him she's been going through the inn's storage room, looking for extra medical supplies.
"I've found everything but anything useful," she says, "though that old guitar would shed a bit of the gloom if there were anyone left to play." ]
I can play guitar.
[ And a few minutes later, Zel finds himself holding the guitar in question. The innkeeper, looking nearly as happy as she did when Rezo first appeared in the village, eagerly explains that the guitar was left behind by a guest that never came back to retrieve it, and has seen a lot of use from other guests over the years, only finding itself stored away to make room for the patients. ]
I didn't... Uh...
[ Didn't think she'd want him to play it right now. Rezo's still sleeping, for one thing, and it's very sudden besides. Didn't she just tell him to rest...?
But she's obviously desperate for some kind of reprieve from the constant misery, and Zel caves to the hopeful look on her face.
Zel wracks his brain for a minute, and then begins to play a song. ]