Author's Note: This post deviates from my usual method of using first-person bullet journaling to narrate in-game roleplay sessions. Due to summer holidays, work travels and so on, the players of Bernwick and Ekoko casually messaged as time permitted. For the sake of story continuity and my own convenience, I am posting our exchanges here unaltered.
As such, the following is not wholly my own work. Half of it is original writing by Ekoko and is posted with her permission.
Looking over chatlogs makes me slightly regret not narrating sessions in full here - there's some real zingers there that will remain unearthed - but what a welcome change of pace in roleplay. Thanks for being the other half of this weird pair, Eko.
B.
A loud snoring sound beside you fills the midnight air, which is intensified by the otherwise dead quiet of the area surrounding you under the great Yellow Tree.
If you were to turn to look, you would find that Bernie has managed to worm his way into nearly spooning you, and that you now seem to have most of the blanket wrapped around you.
E.
You wake to find yourself spooning the blanket, which has been fashioned into a womanly shape and shoved between you and the now unblanketed Ekoko, who lays on her side a few feet away, faced away from you. The top of the blanket is shaped in such a way that it would cover most of your mouth, perhaps to dull the sound.
At some point in the night, she loosened the intricately designed hair clip holding her braid in place, and her long silvery hair now flows loosely down, pooling on the ground next to her. She murmurs a few sindarin words in her sleep, but otherwise makes no sound.
B.
Sputtering, he finds himself brought to wakefulness by the discomfort of breathing in hot, stale air. His hands reach up to bat away the blanket covering his mouth and nose before he indignantly mutters a few choice words into the pre-dawn air.
His hands travel downward to find himself cuddled up close to a wadded up blanket. He shrugs and decides he's comfortable like this, so lays back down and wraps his arm over the shaped form.
Looking ahead he sees you lying prone still. He watches you sleeping for a moment admiringly, wondering how he got so lucky to be traveling with you. He scoots himself and his cuddling blanket closer to you, almost touching you. One of his hands reaches over to feel the silvery silk of your hair spilled out over the ground - then he remembers The Tree and wonders if it's watching him. He pulls his hand back and shoots a look at it, shrugging innocently.
“What? She’s a right pretty thing. You’d like her too were you less a shrub and more a man,” he whispers in its direction with a defensive tone.
E.
The sound of your coughing wakes her, though she remains still on the mossy ground. As you shuffle around with the blanket, she narrows her eyes and ponders what you are doing. Her suspicion grows as the sound of you shuffling grows closer and closer to her. Her eyes dart to her spear leaned against the tree. She determines the she could easily roll to it and swiftly have it at your throat should you attempt to attack her, when you start speaking to the tree. She stays quiet and very still.
When you finish whispering, she turns her head ever so slightly towards you, over her shoulder, and asks you directly, “Who are you speaking to?”
B.
He freezes as he slowly works out that the enchanting voice that replies to him is not in fact coming from Oakley but from the most beautiful lady he's ever laid eyes on instead.
You know, the one lying next to him listening to him talk to a tree in the night.
About her.
Well everyone is entitled to a quirk of character, he decides, and he turns his head down to you and flashes his biggest, goofiest grin yet.
“You looked chilly and uncomfortable over there. Came to share my blanket,” and without missing a beat, his beefy hands began unfurling the wadded up fleece between you. As he is about to toss the freed end of it over your body, he pauses and shoots you an exaggerated wink.
“If you need a pillow, my chest has padding.”
Sure enough, some tufts of dishwater coloured chest hair can be seen poking out of his tunic.
E.
She rolls her eyes and huffs slightly. One slender, delicately manicured hand comes to the bridge of her nose and she pinches it in a rather annoyed fashion before turning her head further to look at you.
“That does not answer my question of who you were speaking to. If you have other men stationed nearby, I should like to know,” she speaks cooly. Her face betrays a mild horror as she watches you unfurl the blanket and inch even closer towards her. Before she has a chance to ask you what you’re doing, you are just about to toss the blanket over her, making your remark about the pillow and your chest hair. She holds up a hand to halt you, with one eyebrow arched sharply with incredulity.
“I assure you, I am quite comfortable. I was sleeping quite soundly until you began holding your conversation with whomever it was you were speaking to,” she snips, her tone is sharp and formal. After a moment though, it shifts to something bordering on playful as she glances downwards and nods to the tufts sticking out of your tunic.
“Besides that, I would hardly call that peach fuzz proper padding.”
With that, she rolls back over to where she was sleeping before.
B.
Almost humbled but not quite, he replied while running a thick hand down his chest, “Well I'm no Dwarf, Miss Indoril, but this here is all Bree-land grown manpelt right here. And I even washed it before we left!”
The sound of some dramatic sniffing can be heard, followed by, “Still smells like beeswax soap. And maybe a spill of beer. And swamp.... ooee! Good gravy! Well not much to be done for that right now.”
A pause, followed by, “Is that.... how'd that get there?” If you were to turn back quickly you would see him picking something pale from inside his tunic and flicking it away. He mutters under his breath and looks back to you.
“And beside all that, I were talking to Oakley over there. He's mighty nosy and were watching me. Us. Watching us. Maybe you should talk to him in your elfin words, he's cantankerous with me.”
He starts shuffling the blanket around for a few moments, then sits still for another long pause. “Can you fix this blanket again? I liked how you fluffed it before, was real cozy. Not the part over my mouth though.” He holds the corner of the cloth towards you hopefully.
E.
With another small huff, she looks back over her shoulder at you just in time to see you pick *something* out of your tunic. Her pale grey eyes go wide, and she recoils with a noticeably horrified look on her normally stoic face. She says nothing as you continue on about Oakley and the blanket, but continues to to watch the area of your tunic that you had picked whatever is was you picked from.
When you are finished, the gestures towards your tunic and asks sharply, “What on earth did you just pick from yourself?”
