Estrid was in her room with a clean towel over her shoulder, very intently trying to ignore what happened over the last fifteen minutes. She was freshly changed and rifling through her laundry pile for clothes for Hiccup. Though she was several sizes smaller than him, she bought an odd mix of baggy and fitting clothes because she thought they were more comfortable. She had more baggy shirts than pants, though, so finding a pair of fitting jeans was proving to be difficult. She might have to go out and buy new clothes for him to wear, which had been an odd thought. Hopefully he wouldn't be here for that long.
A loud shout and the sound of metal impacting the floor violently from across the hall had Estrid running straight for the bathroom. She came to a hard stop in front of the door and hesitated.
"Are you alright?" Estrid called out cautiously. It was silent, which wasn't a good sign. She hoped he was fine.
"I'm coming in!" She warned. Hopefully, if he was alright, then that would give him enough time to cover his private bits. No one liked a peeping tabby.
Estrid opened the door just enough for her to look in. Hiccup was lying prone on the floor in a small pool of water, looking pretty disoriented. He rubbed his head with one hand and propped himself up into his elbow with the other.
Ah, fuck it. She hurriedly pushed the whole door open once she realized he wasn't pulling himself up and rushed to his side. Hiccup hadn't even noticed her entrance, still so focused on his own face. Estrid politely avoided eye contact with everything else but, quickly turning off the shower, stopping the puddle of water from growing, then turning towards him to drop the towel in his lap. Didn't want to add water damage to Harris' already long list of Estrid offenses.
As she turned back towards him, she caught him scrambling backwards into the sink cabinet. He was squinting hard, bubbles in his eyelids as she dodged around him, kicking the curtains and the broken halves of the metal rod haphazardly to the side.
"...Sorry," She said as suds dripped down the side of his face. Does he have a concussion? He was sitting on his butt now, though he was sure to be careful still.
Hiccup scooted back a bit more, then inhaled sharply he got more soap ran down his face. She watched as he wiped as much as he could back towards his hairline and down his scalp. Estrid winced in sympathy and stood up, going for the sink.
The bottle of soap she gave Hiccup to wash with was still there? Estrid gave the hand towel a quick tug, pulling it down from where it hung up on the wall. She intended to toss it to Hiccup and thought about making a quick getaway right after.
She really didn't want to be in the bathroom tight then, but she had to make sure he was alright. So she'd do that quickly and then scram.
Estrid walked towards Hiccup, who'd managed to haul himself on top of the toilet again. Fortunately, the towel remained covering all of his important bits. She shuffled quickly up to Hiccup again, reaching a hand towards his head, accidentally smacking him in her hurry.
"Sorry, sorry," Estrid grimaced, holding her hands out, hovering before him. She hoped she wasn't overstepping any boundaries… at least not too bad. She wished there was some sort of instruction manual for this, this whole situation felt wrong.
She waved a hand in his line of vision, careful not to get too close and tapped her head sparsely, trying to mime out to him her question. However, she couldn't manage to keep his attention. He kept trying to look at her, but always ended up turning his head back down and rubbing his eyes with one hand because of the soap. Am I going to have to do this myself? Can't I just leave him here?
Estrid's lips pursed. She'd have to be back here anyway with a change of clothes. Though she'd hoped he would be wrapped up or she could just throw them onto the counter without having to push the door open any more than a slip.
…Technically Hiccup was famous, wasn't he? Estrid wondered if this counted as celebrity harassment.
She brushed the thought away tepidly as her fingers brushed lightly against his forehead. If there were any bumps, she'd be able to feel it, right? Hiccup brought up his face, confused and apprehensive as she used her other hand to tap one side of his jaw. Or, she tried, but he shook his head, dislodging it. Right, right, yes, she was right, boundaries.
Hiccup was sitting rigidly on the toilet seat and clinging to his towel, like it was his last grip on this Earth. Which, yeah, it was kind of hiding his modesty. Estrid got it.
Hiccup murmured something in low tones, voice cracking and his face a hard blush. Estrid was pretty red herself by now. His words came out clearly enough- at least, she thought so- meaning, hopefully, that he'd gotten ahold of his bearings already. He was looking around the room, which could be attributed mostly to the soap in his eyes.
She prayed to god he'd be fine until she'd brought back a decent pair of pants for him, as Estrid couldn't really check his eyes to make sure he was fine just yet, although she wasn't certain she'd be able to recognize the signs of a concussion in them anyways.
She took his verbal spewing as a sign that she was no longer needed, twisting around sharply and stumbling forwards, one of her ankles having been caught angling her leg around the corner of the shower curtain she had just thrown to the side.
Her first step forward had her stumbling, ankle caught around a corner of the shower curtain she'd moved earlier, her hand coming in contact with the wall with a loud slap. There was a rough tug on the back of her shirt from off to one side. The force between that and the curtains, which had been pulled taut in places by the metal rods, had Estrid moving back as best she could. The back of her calves hit the side of the tub, throwing her completely off balance and she went tumbling backwards.
Hiccup lurched after her, his grip on her shirt causing him to follow her trajectory.
Estrid slammed onto the floor of the tub, twisted to the side with one arm under clutched protectively to her head and Hiccup fell forward against the outside of the tub, trapping her legs between himself and the white acrylic.
After a moment of disorientation, she pushed herself up, nose bumping into something hard. She blinked open her eyes, startling lightly as she came face-to-face with Hiccup. His arms were on either side of her in the tub, and, yeah, her legs. By his waist.
His lips were pursed, still blinking like mad, and his blush had spread all the way up to his ears and down his neck, concealing some of his freckles. Which was a shame. They continued to stare at each other, before Estrid tried moving back slightly, something under her causing her to roll back and forth lopsidedly.
…? Whatever had her rolling had now moved enough to sharply poke her in the ass. She pushed up with one hand and reached under her with the other, pulling up a purple bottle off the floor. She inspected it as she turned it around in her hand. Ah.
It was mother's many shampoo, one of the ones she'd gotten after she'd dyed her hair blonde about a year ago. Estrid had no clue what was in it, but she'd used it once by accident and that was enough said about that.
The top was unscrewed, half of the bottle having poured itself down the drain, a good half also probably having soaked into her clothes.
Estrid wrinkled her nose at it, looking up again. Hiccup was still there, somehow not blinking furiously. She tugged her legs gently and he gave with little resistance, falling slightly forward, before searching for purchase against saide, one hand finding a temporary grasp on her knee before he pulled it back like he'd been burned. Estrid herself moved up to a standing position, hopping temporarily on one foot as she hoisted the other up and stepped out into the larger half of the bathroom.
She tossed the bottle into a small trashcan next to the toilet, not pausing to watch it bounce off the rim- she was a horrible shot, she'd deal with it later- and wiping some of the milky yellow substance off on her jeans. Her mother didn't need it anymore anyways, the thing had remained practically full since she went back to black again last February.
Fortunately, Hiccup's eyes would be fine. Her sight had gone back to normal well enough without having to call for poison control, or anything. To think, a dragon-riding viking, defeated by a forty-something year old's bottle of expired discount blonde soap. But he needed it out of his eyes, most definitely.
Estrid nudged her sudsy TV guy towards the place where she was just standing with an elbow to the back. She looked around for the hand towel, which she'd dropped as she'd fallen. And she found a towel, that was for sure, just not the small one.
Hiccup had bent down on his good leg, the other out to the side as he struggled to stay steady on the wet floor, grabbing randomly on the floor for it, stark naked again. Estrid looked away fast, but wasn't lucky enough to miss his, well…
Dammit. She could still see gunge on his hair and on parts of his back. If she let him out now, he'd get wet whatever-that-was all over the apartment. Plus, she couldn't leave him here, half blind and legless on wet tile. It looked a lot like he hadn't wanted her gone yet, either. This apartment needed bathmats, she decided.
Estrid covered her face with one hand and pointed to the shower, face burning, "Just get in the tub. Please."
-Estrid pulled the drain and ran the faucet, washing out the bottom of the tub, using the shower head, which she'd pulled down from where it was mounted on the wall. The grime that'd been there before flowing down the drain. After she'd deemed it clean enough, she switched off the shower head and let the faucet run until it went warm again and plugged the drain, again, twisting the metal stopper until it fell down with a click.
She sat on the seat of the toilet, cringing uncomfortably as she felt her pants soak up the water Hiccup had left on it earlier. Hiccup sat in front of her in the water. The larger towel was floating into his lap and the hand towel, which she had had to search for -she'd dropped it during the fall- was folded and placed over Hiccup's eyes. It did well enough in keeping out any more suds.
As the tub filled, she ran her hand through hair, pausing when it met resistance. She over her hair brush from the counter- she would have to get a new one after this, but that was fine- and started brushing at the ends of his hair. Estrid picked out small fronds of hay, careful to be gentle.
She could see Hiccup's back muscles tensing and relaxing and she grimaced in time with them. There was a burn scar by his neck, barely noticeable but edging into the territory of his scalp. She was extra gentle around it, though she was sure the feeling in it was a lot less sensitive than over the rest of his skin, it being scar tissue and all.
Estrid wondered where he'd gotten it, if it might've happened during the animated series or the first movie. She turned off the faucet, tub nearly full, and resumed her slow move up to the crown of his head.
Hiccup hissed and started as she tugged a bit on a spot between his temple and the top of his skull, and she touched it with her finger lightly. Maybe that was where he'd hit his head?
She deemed him fine earlier but they were already here, so. With this better angle, Estrid figured there was definitely no lump. No suspicious lumps. She ran her hand over what she thought might be a zit once or twice.
There wasn't any blood mixed in with Hiccup's auburn and it still wasn't bleeding, which she took note of as Hiccup brought up one hand to guide her father up his head, huffing something out abashedly into the silence between them.
"Sorry," She mumbled and brought up her brush again, working at his knots until they'd been brushed out completely. It took a very long while, though Hiccup was compliant enough, leaning his head back further and pulling it back up when the need for it arose.
She urged him to turn to the side afterwards with her hands on his shoulders and after a moment he obliged, tilting his head back and she ran the shower head and used it to wash away some of the mess she'd been unable to get out with her hands. What was left of her mother's soap washed out with it. Hiccup looked very relieved. Estrid would have been too, it probably felt great.
Well, that was half the battle over with. Estrid once again put the shower head away and turned the back of his head so it faced her. She reached over Hiccup, Accidentally grazing his ear with her chest and picked up her own shampoo and conditioner. She flipped open the caps and poured a healthy amount into her hands, lathering up his scalp and repeated the process with the shower head.
Once again unplugging the drain, she watched as the old water was washed away and replaced with more warm water. His hair was probably the most important bit, being the most likely to keep grime and shampoo. Hiccup could deal with the rest another night, his shoulders only got a quick spray-down from her, and she just dampened the small towel and passed it over his face faster than either Hiccup could process, deeming it clean enough.
The new water came in clear, most of the whatever came off with Hiccup's clothes, which she regarded with distaste from where they were on the floor. They still smelt a bit, looked like she'd be doing another load of laundry soon. She tossed the hand towel on top of that pile and lifted herself up from the covered toilet seat.
With a short "Wait here," she walked back into the hall, feet sounding softly off the floorboards. She grabbed another two towels, careful to keep them away from her torso lest they get wet and slipped into her room quickly to pick up a hoodie that'd been dropped onto the floor when she'd ran earlier. She had a pair of oversized pajama pants in plaid which she picked up quickly as well. No underpants, so of course, Hiccup would have to deal.
She looked out at the city through her window, the sky bright and warm from what she could see. Estrid guessed it was maybe around noon. She sighed. The bizarreness of their situation was not lost on her. But she'd done enough freaking out, for now. Estrid re-entered the bathroom to find Hiccup right where she left him. She used one clean towel to wipe it off then threw it on the floor, soaking up what water was left there and placing the clean clothes on the newly dried space.
With the towel still in hand, she drained the tub, and sat it down on the toilet, then moved the clean clothes on top of it. She tapped Hiccup on the shoulder and grabbed his hand, placing it on the clean clothes.
"Here's your towel. And your clothes." Estrid said, patting his wrist before gathering his dirty laundry and leaving, shutting the door with a click behind her.
Hopefully he wouldn't mind her making off with his original clothes, but they smelt so bad. Without the added factor of adrenaline and panic, she wasn't sure she could deal with just leaving them around, in a trash bag or not.
Her stomach grumbled slightly. Soon, she promised herself, making her way towards the living room as fast as possible, nearly tripping over Hiccup's prosthetic in the process. I forgot about that stupid thing.
Estrid huffed to herself, kicking it away from the middle of the room. She'd come back for it later.
Unlocking the front door, she slipped out into the hall and pulled open the janitor's closet to her left. It was dim inside the room, it had no working lights and Estrid was pretty sure it was home to just about three different types of spiders.
She barely had enough space to stand, moved around mops and plastic containers, stopping in front of a washer and dryer which she and her father kept stocked for the express purpose of not having to buy their own machines. The ones downstairs were for community use and a lot nastier than the ones up here. It was a convenient little secret that Ms. Harris had let her father in on that they took full advantage of.
Estrid closed the door behind her with a clock and dropped her load onto the lid of the washer, feeling at it experimentally and trying not to breathe in too much of the musty air. She winced as she cut the tip of her pinky finger on something, very nearly bringing it to her mouth before she decided to change course and wipe it off on her shirt.
She pulled out a thin leather belt, holding it like it was diseased. Clasped to the side was a sharp dagger with a carved handle. It must've been hidden under Hiccup's tunic earlier, she thought with a shiver. Damn. If he'd really wanted to hurt Estrid earlier, then he definitely could've. She thought with some gratefulness that she hadn't gotten stuck with, like, Dagur last night. She would have been dead then.
She sighed, dropping the belt onto the top of the dryer with a small clink, the blade's metal rattling against steel for just a moment before going still. She lifted another piece of clothing, what looked to be a pair of underpants, which she hurriedly lifted the lid of the washer for, tossing them inside.
She shut the lid again, and reached forward with minor difficulty, the laundry pile having shifted down with the slope of the lid when she'd opened it. Estrid unraveled a pair of trousers, shaking them out slightly, looking for tears and then giving them a much similar treatment to the underpants when they were revealed to be fine.
It looked like the only piece left was his tunic. She reached for it, hesitating slightly, then spread it out in front of her. She looked it over, then turned it, just barely managing in the cramped space of the closet, giving it a much more thorough inspection than the pants. Hey, the shirt was iconic.
Something about it ticked her brain, and she gave it a closer look, running the tip of her thumb along a neat set of stitches along the side, following them down the sleeves and tracing the sleeve up to the collar.
There were small patterns embroidered into the collar, done in the same color as the rest of the tunic. Details which, if they had been in the movie, she was sure she'd missed.
They themselves were nothing special, just a few designs resembling celtic knots. It was a sense of intimate familiarity with the stitching themselves that drew her in, like a form of hypnosis. She was sure that she'd never done any kind of stitching of the sort, though she was thoroughly convinced she knew these specific stitches inside and out, just as if she had done them herself.
Estrid leaned forward, determined to find the source of her incredible deja vu. She followed one specific line of thread with her finger, scuffing it gently with the corner of her nail in parts where it'd been loosened.
The tips of her fingers buzzed, as if they'd fallen asleep, and with every scuff they went a little crazy. Despite that, Estrid's own brain felt fuzzy. And her eyes grew heavier and heavier, despite her alarm.
All at once it was too much and she fought a losing battle as her body went slack. She fell backwards, collapsed against the wall and her hands limply by her sides as her vision went dark.
-She brushed aside a lock of loose hair, working diligently with her needle, guided only by the light of the hearth and devotion to her work.
Needlework hadn't always been her strong suit. It was through persistence and suggestion by her mother that she'd improve by any and all the measures she had. She preferred charcoal to wool and pointer.
She didn't have the kind of thread that the others would have preferred to work with, the silver kind whose ösenstiches would stand out against the greens of the fabric she was working with. But that was alright. Really, she was only supposed to be doing a patch-job, but she wanted to give a little more. To show her affections.
…Also by suggestion of her mother.
She blinked confusedly.
Estrid eyed the tunic with no small amount of trepidation, snapping it up quickly and tossing into the washer with the rest of Hiccup's clothes. She waited for a moment then sighed in relief when she didn't collapse again. Whatever that was- she didn't like it.
She had certainly never sewn anything like that, never planned to either. It felt so real, though. She could still feel the phantom imprint of the sewing needle between her fingers.
Estrid pursed her lips and tried not to panic. Again. She was over this. She was.
She shuffled around quickly for a moment, rummaging around on a shelf just next to the washing machine where she knew there was a box of Tide pods. The closet was starting to feel much too small, the walls standing tall and looking as if they were trying to close in on her. She clumsily picked a pod out, nearly knocking it over in the process and tossed it in the washer, slamming the lid down shut with a clang.
Estrid double pressed the washing machine's start button, hurrying out of the closet, not bothering to make sure the machine started running like it was supposed to. The door slammed shut violently behind her.
Without looking, she made three violent strides towards her apartment before running headfirst into something unpleasant.
"Get out of my way."
With a face not unlike a rat and an unbelievably oily head of unkempt hair, donned in a relatively hideous Ancient Aliens T-shirt was Jeremy, who was peering down at her with a smug, pointedly stiff, smile. Hanging from one arm was a very official-looking black case, probably some artifact or another he'd decided would look better in his apartment than anywhere else of worth.
She wouldn't have thought he was the type to have ever had sex, if she hadn't heard it through the chipped, eggshell white walls. She might have, in another world, gotten along with him if it wasn't for the constant negging and genuine, purposeful passive-aggressiveness.
Estrid stepped back, nose scrunched at the scent of odorless body odor, gaping up at one of her across-the-hall neighbors.
"Oh. Estrid." Jeremy said, looking down at her from over his nose. His voice, much like Hiccup's, was in the nasal. Though unlike Hiccups, she found his very annoying. Maybe it was because she didn't like him and, as it typically goes, it is difficult to find anything likable about someone you are in hate with.
She grimaced back up at him, balling her hands up behind her back, trying to hide her shakiness. Estrid made an effort to look right into his eyes and Jeremy squinted right back like a cat who'd just spotted its first vermin.
"Anything I can help you with?" She said with apathy, smile almost resembling something amiable.
He peered around her, she didn't make the effort to block his view, though. He could always go check the closet for himself. At the very least, her laundry privileges were lost. This was really not her week.
"No, I shouldn't think so. Unless you'd want to sit around while I rearrange my coin collection, I can't think of anything I'd need your help with, unless it was maybe repainting my walls." Jeremy snorted, he took a moment to laugh at his own joke before staring back down at her again, "I would ask you not to be there, anyways. You would damage my spearheads. It would be very irksome. Sour, perhaps."
"I'm sure," Estrid said dryly, beginning to try and edge her way around him, "That that's not how you are supposed to use that word. Anything else?"
"What were you doing back there? If you were doing anything against code I will have to go straight to Ms. Harris. Who, I'm sure, would love to hear all about what I have to say."
Estrid had to make an effort not to roll her eyes. As always, Jeremy was in swift competition for the position of world's most obnoxious blonde. Dirty blonde, light brunette. Whatever he'd deigned to call himself that week.
Ms. Harris would know. Estrid knew they met up together every Sunday.
"Look, I wasn't doing anything. Can you move? I need to get back to my apartment."
Jeremy sniffed down at her, moving to the side.
"Maybe. But I would ask that you be more polite next time. I would rather foster a good relationship with my neighbors. But unfortunately as Rome is to me, you are… a viking. Don't be a viking."
Estrid wrinkled her nose, glaring at all the frayed brown hall carpet she could see just past Jeremy's torso. It was made in some eye scorching geometric pattern, and probably was some ungodly remnant from the seventies, just like her landlady. Maybe if she stared hard enough she could induce some form of hypnosis, then she wouldn't have to be present for this conversation.
"I'll try," Estrid responded in style, crossing her arms as she passed. Her hands fumbled with the lock before she opened her door a crack and slipped in. Stupid Jeremy, stupid Roman coins. Stupid arrowhead.
Jeremy eyed the short dagger with rapaciousness, face half shadowed by the darkness of the supply closet. Ignoring the rumbling of the dusty gray machine in front of him, he gently grazed his finger over the tip, sparing barely a thought for the small cut that formed after.
Finished admiring the craftsmanship of the blade and its handle, he picked up the leather belt from on top of the washer and wrapped it around himself, grazing the patterns stamped into it with his knuckle.
It wasn't his, but… Still, Yes, this would look very nice in his collection.