[ There's a tingling at the back of his head that spreads like a shiver.
Fjord's eyes widen and his frown returns, along with alarm as he realises, ]
... You charmed me.
[ The amiable levelness is gone, swapped out for a raw flare of temper behind the words he tries to keep steady. ]
I don't have any spells to counter with and you fucking charmed me.
[ Backing up as he looks at Molly in disgust, he can't shake the memory of how Lucien would behave, doggedly and without care. Abruptly, Fjord doesn't want to be there with Molly, so he listens to his instincts and makes a sharp exit out of the living room and up the brownstone stairs. ]
[ He didn't think of the fact that Fjord had no spells, had no way to be on equal level with him. He didn't do anything mean or dangerous, though... just made sure they could talk longer - but that disgust in those lovely gold eyes hits Molly like being stabbed in the chest. He knows it was shitty, but it was also necessary... right?
Right?
But Fjord flounces off quickly, leaving the house in a storm and the tiefling curls up into an upset ball of anger, guilt and heartache, fingers scratching at his new sleeve and wishing he never got it at all. ]
[ Snatching up the Bag of Holding out of their room, he starts a routine of looking for an object and bagging it. Looking, bagging. Look, bag. It requires no thought beyond what he needs. A toothbrush makes it in there, a brush, some random clothes so that the wardrobe is emptier without a bulk of knitted tops, and he shoves in his mariner's armour with the rest of his Exandrian belongings too so there's a hollow space where he usually keeps them safely tucked under an ostentatious red coat. He would leave a note for the others but the remembers the devices have a texting feature, so he figures he will do that later ... breathing hurts, there's a pain in his chest he doesn't have the time to examine yet.
The stairs thump as he makes his way back down, dropping the bag at his feet just to pull on his coat and hat in the hallway. Being helplessly charmed to stay conversely makes him want to run a mile. ]
[ Hearing the half-orc rummaging around above and then heading down again makes Molly's heart hammer against his chest and when he hears the bag thump in the hallway he hurries out to see Fjord put his coat on.
I already said I'm sorry for asking you to change it. But you know what, Molly?
[ Ready to leave, he only spares him a glance on his way out the door. ]
I really hope that tattoo goes a long way to making you feel like you, because for someone who insists he isn't the total bastard that took over that body you do a damn good impression of him sometimes.
[ Fjord hoists the Bag of Holding over his shoulder and stalks out of the house, heading in the vague direction of Aphrodite's temple. Ironic, he thinks, that a goddess who could force him to love her never has, and the man he loves forced him to stay. ]
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[ That was a lot, and Molly doesn't know what to say any more. ]
I'm sorry.
[ He drops the Charm Person spell on Fjord, sinking into the couch like he wants to hide in it. ]
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Fjord's eyes widen and his frown returns, along with alarm as he realises, ]
... You charmed me.
[ The amiable levelness is gone, swapped out for a raw flare of temper behind the words he tries to keep steady. ]
I don't have any spells to counter with and you fucking charmed me.
[ Backing up as he looks at Molly in disgust, he can't shake the memory of how Lucien would behave, doggedly and without care. Abruptly, Fjord doesn't want to be there with Molly, so he listens to his instincts and makes a sharp exit out of the living room and up the brownstone stairs. ]
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Right?
But Fjord flounces off quickly, leaving the house in a storm and the tiefling curls up into an upset ball of anger, guilt and heartache, fingers scratching at his new sleeve and wishing he never got it at all. ]
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The stairs thump as he makes his way back down, dropping the bag at his feet just to pull on his coat and hat in the hallway. Being helplessly charmed to stay conversely makes him want to run a mile. ]
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With his things. In his bag. Leaving. ]
Fjord...?
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[ Ready to leave, he only spares him a glance on his way out the door. ]
I really hope that tattoo goes a long way to making you feel like you, because for someone who insists he isn't the total bastard that took over that body you do a damn good impression of him sometimes.
[ Fjord hoists the Bag of Holding over his shoulder and stalks out of the house, heading in the vague direction of Aphrodite's temple. Ironic, he thinks, that a goddess who could force him to love her never has, and the man he loves forced him to stay. ]