(other-wordly)

[absurdities]

The Other-Wordly Meme

Words are magical things; they can have so many lovely connotations and varied histories.
Words have family trees just like people. They are linked to each other.
Some words are full of flavor and color and describe things you never suspected there were words for.
Words are why we're here.

The meme is simple: post a comment with your muse's name and canon in the subject line.
List any preferences you may have ("No Shipping," "No Smut," etc.), if you decide to leave the next step up to responders.
Responders (or original posters, if they so decide), go to the Other-Wordly blog and hit 'Random' until you get a word. Use the word as a prompt to write up an RP scenario. Do this several times, if you like. Mix and match. Have fun with it!

           Don't stop with a word, though! Words can often have etymologies that are at oddswith their current meanings.                Words can shift connotations over time. Let your imagination carry you with the words as its wind. 

Comments

[goldsickness]

[Each touch from Bilbo travels like sparks beneath his skin, the fingers in his hair sending a rush to his scalp and down his spine that makes him feel as if he is entirely weightless, the world only tangible by the points where they are in contact. He tips his head to the side and lets the kiss grow deeper, hotter, definitely more desperate, as his tongue traces Bilbo's teeth and his heart thumps louder against his ribcage at the taste.

He seems to quite have forgotten himself by now, surrendering fully to the feelings and letting go entirely of thoughts. Yet he is reminded, painfully so, when he snakes his arm around Bilbo's waist a little too harshly than he ought to, and the injury is strained beyond dull and tolerable ache. The groan he lets out is none too pleased, as he finds himself pulling from the kiss rather abruptly, eyes closed and eyebrows knit together, as he tries to calm his labored breath into something that doesn't feel like the wound could just split open with each inhale.]

I think... [He says after a while, but the voice is coarse and he must clear his throat before speaking again.] I'm afraid I have gotten a little carried away.

[riddlearth]

[ It's the difference between drowning and being yanked back to shore: it startles him to fill his lungs with air, to open wide his eyes, to have awareness return to him as he is released so abruptly from the kiss. Legs that seem to have forgotten their solidity wobble a little beneath him, but Bilbo catches himself, his heart thumping in brief fear that something went wrong--something in that embrace and that kiss was unwelcome--but then he can see the pain drawing taut the lines of Thorin's face and making his breathing struggle and fear changes at once to concern. ] Thorin? [ He reaches out his hands and puts them around Thorin's tentatively, offering his support. He hopes that he isn't about to stumble--Bilbo could not possibly catch him--

But he seems to recover himself after a few moments, while Bilbo waits worried and holding onto him, ready to offer any comfort and assistance he could possibly provide. ] I do apologize. It was too taxing for you. [ He would be mortified if he weren't so worried. As it is--well, he could not say he regrets the kiss, not after those few moments of utter bliss, only that Thorin should have felt any pain. He ought to have waited; in fact, Thorin ought to be in bed where Bilbo can look after him properly. ] I'll help you inside. I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist that you lie down, Thorin; this is no time for any--any activities.

[goldsickness]

[Thorin never actually loses his balance, and never the pain is too strong that he feels himself any close to fainting. Yet he welcomes the support of Bilbo's hands, his eyes closed for a moment longer and finally opening when the ache on his wound subsides. It makes him more frustrated still, that if before he could not fulfill his duties as king because of his injuries, then now he cannot even have this, a moment of peace and comfort that he had yearned for such a long time, perhaps even longer than he himself realizes.

Thorin cannot help the look he shoots at Bilbo at his words, an eyebrow arched, a smile playing at the corner of his lips, though small, barely there, as he is still feeling the wave of tension coming from his side.] I do hope not to have to wait another week to indulge in such activities. [Still, even with the displeased tone at having to part, he does. Bilbo is right, even if Thorin is beyond the point of light stubbornness when it comes down to it. He turns back towards the room, one arm resting over Bilbo's shoulders, though hardly leaning any of his weight against the hobbit, and taking steps much slower and cautious towards his bed instead.]

[riddlearth]

[ That amused look that Thorin gives him, heavy with significance, would be liable to make Bilbo's breath go short if he weren't so relieved that the dwarf king is not so badly off he might faint in front of him. As it is he feels the color coming back into his face as Thorin puts an arm around his shoulders and Bilbo leans carefully against his good side, giving him such small support as a hobbit can offer, taking short steps with him as they guide one another into the bedchamber. ] I—I hope not either. But the most important thing is for you to rest and get well.

[ He's glad that Thorin recognizes that now as well, or at least that he isn't arguing against lying down anymore. Bilbo hates seeing him in pain for a moment longer than he should be. He needs someone to look after him more closely, and if, as it turns out, Thorin likes to have him about, then surely he is the best person for the job.

So he pulls back the bedcovers for him and anxiously pushes a pillow or two into place before letting Thorin lower himself down to the mattress. ] Do be careful. [ His fingers touch Thorin's brow gently, pushing some of the heavy black strands of hair away from his eyes. ]

[goldsickness]

[Thorin has never had much trouble coping with pain. Even the most excruciating he could hide easily behind a façade of calm composure, a frown that many are most often used to seeing on his face. Yet it was as if in that moment he was caught all too unprepared for it, and he can see the hobbit worries, a bit too much perhaps, for it was hardly the most pain Thorin has ever felt. Aside from the sharpness of the ache that first came when he moved his arm, it was nothing but dull sensitivity, and by the time they reach his bed, it is all but gone.

For a moment he entertains the thought of asking Bilbo to continue, but he is no child. He knows that the pain is only gone because he is not making any effort currently. So he lowers himself onto the mattress, not entirely lying down as he had left his pillows piled up against the headboard, though he is not completely sitting either. There is a soft sigh, between relieved and resigned at his situation, but he supposes he ought to be thankful. At least he lives.

His blinking is slow for a moment, then he reaches for Bilbo's hand, wrapping his fingers around smaller ones and bringing it down so that it is resting over his own chest.] Thank you, Bilbo.

[riddlearth]

[ He too is so relieved, so very relieved that Thorin lives, that he is on his way to being well again. In his darkest moments he had tried to imagine what he would do if the dwarf king passed beyond his reach, and the despair of it had been greater than anything he'd ever known; even so singular a moment of pleasure as they shared tonight would be all the worse for knowing it was only a memory. Nothing now could make him leave Erebor, not even homesickness; he would make this place his home instead. He smiles as Thorin takes his hand in his, and puts the other one against his brow instead, enjoying the sensation of stroking back his hair too much to relent. ]

You may want to save your thanks; I'm afraid you're going to be quite stuck with me until you are better. [ Someone is going to have to make sure he stays in bed where he belongs. ]

[goldsickness]

[The touch is all too soothing, and Thorin shifts his head on the pillows as he closes his eyes with little thought to it. Even after everything, he has found his sleep so burdened with dreams still, that often times he would simply fight the tiredness in him. It has been a while since he last slept, though he cannot remember exactly how long, but his body seems eager to catch up the second that Bilbo's fingers brush the worries away from his mind just as well as the locks of hair from his face.]

Shall I take it back, then? [His voice is already lower and softer, a smile on his lips then. He is sure to thank Bilbo's presence too, even if objectively he knows the both of them are equally stubborn, and that may very well lead to one frustrating moment or another. He would be thankful even then.]