While Carlisle is busy drinking his tea and nodding off with the comfortable, dry confines of the little shed, Glacius strides out into the cold and wet and busies himself with accreting a new shell. On the plus side, the downpour hasn't let up in the least, and all the water raining down around him provides him plenty to work with; on the downside, as he has said a couple times before now, completely regrowing his outer layer is a very intensive process.
He does feel better when it's started, though, a thin layer of ice gathering on his limbs and creeping over his body. The warmth fogging his mind and weighing him down lifts and dissipated, and his sense feel sharp and clear once more in the crisp, brisk cold. His gills, which were beginning to get worryingly dry, flare open to revel in the fresh hydration before becoming concealed and protected by his gelatinous operculum once more. His gaunt features seem to fill out as ice coats and builds up on them like a desiccated corpse being resuscitated, and his microweave courses and flows over his body like newly nourished veins, the surface of his icy skin solidifying and shimmering as it is built up layer by layer.
He is becoming whole once more... and he notices that the longer he stays out here, the more the temperatures keeps dropping. That helps, but it's also curious. He idly wonders if the gods are planning something else out of this freak weather; whatever it is, his confidence grows as his powerful frame does. With his strength and powers fully returned to him, he can ward off the weather. He can ward off whatever they try to throw at their prisoners.
It's well over an hour by the time Glacius has finally regrowing his icy shell in its entirety, and he wastes no time striding back inside the shack, his desire for closeness after their intimacy not having diminished in the slightest despite the time that has passed. When he steps back inside, however, and sees Carlisle swaddled up in furs and resting comfortably in the warm light of the strung-up lights, the alien stops up short, finding himself wishing that he didn't need the shell at all. There's nothing he'd like more than to curl right up with his partner in such a serene moment to continue the closeness they'd been basking in earlier... but he knows that if he didn't wake the clergyman up when he initially joined him in the bed, the chill of his newly-grown skin certainly would in time.
Maybe there's someone in this cave who has some sort of powers that can temporarily leave his underbody more temperature resistant, he muses idly; for now the otherworldly being sits down near the door instead, settling for keeping watch, contenting himself with the knowledge that his efforts have left his partner well tended to and peaceful enough to nod off so comfortably.
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Date: 2017-06-25 04:21 am (UTC)He does feel better when it's started, though, a thin layer of ice gathering on his limbs and creeping over his body. The warmth fogging his mind and weighing him down lifts and dissipated, and his sense feel sharp and clear once more in the crisp, brisk cold. His gills, which were beginning to get worryingly dry, flare open to revel in the fresh hydration before becoming concealed and protected by his gelatinous operculum once more. His gaunt features seem to fill out as ice coats and builds up on them like a desiccated corpse being resuscitated, and his microweave courses and flows over his body like newly nourished veins, the surface of his icy skin solidifying and shimmering as it is built up layer by layer.
He is becoming whole once more... and he notices that the longer he stays out here, the more the temperatures keeps dropping. That helps, but it's also curious. He idly wonders if the gods are planning something else out of this freak weather; whatever it is, his confidence grows as his powerful frame does. With his strength and powers fully returned to him, he can ward off the weather. He can ward off whatever they try to throw at their prisoners.
It's well over an hour by the time Glacius has finally regrowing his icy shell in its entirety, and he wastes no time striding back inside the shack, his desire for closeness after their intimacy not having diminished in the slightest despite the time that has passed. When he steps back inside, however, and sees Carlisle swaddled up in furs and resting comfortably in the warm light of the strung-up lights, the alien stops up short, finding himself wishing that he didn't need the shell at all. There's nothing he'd like more than to curl right up with his partner in such a serene moment to continue the closeness they'd been basking in earlier... but he knows that if he didn't wake the clergyman up when he initially joined him in the bed, the chill of his newly-grown skin certainly would in time.
Maybe there's someone in this cave who has some sort of powers that can temporarily leave his underbody more temperature resistant, he muses idly; for now the otherworldly being sits down near the door instead, settling for keeping watch, contenting himself with the knowledge that his efforts have left his partner well tended to and peaceful enough to nod off so comfortably.