Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  DIDNEY WORL on Thu Sep 15, 2011 8:43 am

"Make love to me."

It was an order, to his ears. One he would gladly follow-- one where he wouldn't have to think. In a situation like this, not thinking for a man like him was most likely dangerous. Normally, he would be as gentle as he could, to make sure he wouldn't hurt her (after all, even if she couldn't see the bruises, couldn't other women?), and end up feeling decidedly unsatisfied-- like he was distant from her in a way he could never safely cross. But that wasn't so, this time. And it should have worried him. Then again, he wasn't thinking.

He only heard her breathing in his ear, more and more rapidly, coaxing his heartbeat to follow along with it. He tossed off his clothes when she pulled at him, and struggled to find the zipper pull at the back of her dress. When he couldn't, he found the place where the two small metal teeth joined, and pulled them apart-- only succeeding in ripping the dress down the back... Right next to the zipper. He barely pulled her out of it fast enough so that it was off by the time he had her back pressed to the wall.

And he made love to her there, in the presence of her infinite universe, in his way-- a forceful, smothering, selfish affection. The only one he really knew.

---------------------

Well, this strategy was working. Hopefully more to her benefit than it had previously. Somewhere she'd heard it only took 8 pounds of pressure to pull off an ear-- but she doubted she even had that.

Too soon to declare victory though. In surprise, she released Piter when Itakshir appeared out of the blue (didn't he always?). She hadn't even gotten around to thinking about how she would go about explaining this. And of course, she hated having to at all. To take advantage of his kindness-- maybe even his trust-- so completely just because she couldn't separate the past from the present. Some nights, she still cried for Auguste, and yet he would still be there. She never wanted to ask how he felt about it.

"Itakshir--" She wished she had some female friends. "...This is... My friend. His name is Piter." Then he wouldn't be so wary. She loved him, this time she really did think so. But how could he love her with all these men she just happened to know coming out of the woodwork? Reluctantly, she gave Piter a 'you better not move' look, and pulled Itakhir out near the tent entrance. Looking apologetic, she continued, "He got into some trouble and has nowhere to go... Actually he gets into alot of trouble. So I... I need to watch him. All the time. I was wondering if you might let us use your empty car?" Ugh. That even sounded suspicious. Trying to make up for it, she took his hands and added, "We can divide it... Somehow. He can stay at one end, and we can have the other."

Franze searched his expression for an answer-- at least something that would tell her he didn't think the absolute worst of her. That she wouldn't even sleep with him yet but he'd met 3 men she knew in the past few weeks (granted, one was her brother, but they didn't look it.). "Please... He ran away and I don't want him to wander off. He... Does bad things when no one watches him." As if he was a child.

---------

Surprisingly, it didn't bother her as much that the would soon have to leave. As long as she would receive things that he'd thought she would like. And when she was asked about them, she could smile and say, 'these are from a man I love. He does important things in important places but he always comes back to see me.' And if she never got anything, she could still visit post offices when she could, to see if anything there was addressed for her. She could ask them to check again, because 'the man I love said he sent something'. The thought made her smile. "I want to sketch you before you leave, dont let me forget." She just liked to say that, that she finally had someone she loved, and wanted anyone to know...

Though his taste in breakfast was lacking. But she wouldn't complain about getting food... she'd ask for a pastry next time. The way to the door, she thought about what she might want, and hadn't yet made up her mind, when he interrupted her thoughts. The door was open? She knew what it meant, but nothing looked any different, inside. She took a bite right out of the bread loaf as she took a decidedly calmer look around, and noticed something different about that wooden thing that made the noise. She hadn't heard it often, but she knew he used it when he slept. Picking up the metal rod, she tried to swing it to the other side and watch it go back and forth. It reached the other side... But only wobbled a bit, and then stopped.

She took another bite of the bread and chewed a moment before speaking, "Hey... Isn't something supposed to be here? I think it was knocked over..." yet she didn't see it around, or under the dresser. What even was she looking for?

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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Thu Sep 15, 2011 7:06 pm

She practically crumpled under the onslaught of his affection--and yet was so completely entranced by the euphoria of it ('ecstasy', in the true definition of the term), that she very well could have died and not noticed. She was broken and pleasured, broken and pleasured, again and again, her gasps and screams mirroring her coexisting pleasure-pain.

(It is strange that some humans will cry out just as much from great sex, as they will from terrible injury. Sonya was a shining example of this.)

The sharp etchings in the wood pressed into her back from pressure and friction, drawing blood, and embedding into her the secrets of life (a few words cut off here and there--her back was not quite big enough to bear such a heavy concept, after all). It was not entirely legible, in her skin, but read more or less thusly:

A human is:
65% Oxygen, 18% Carbon, 10% Hydrog
3% Nitrogen, 1.5% Calcium, 1.2% Phos
.2% Potassium, 0.2% Sulfur,
hlorine, 0.1% Sodium, 0.05% Magnes
3g Iron (men), 2.3g Iron (women), 0
obalt, Copper, Zinc, Iodine, 0.01% 
Selenium and Flourine.

There are 67,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000
atoms in the body. These make up molec
which make up cells. A fertilized
gg divides to make up all the cells in a 
human baby.

And then, in the small of her back, the unknown variable:

But what creates life?

(The secret being that we know nothing.)

Sofia Rostislavivna answered her own question as she slumped in his arms, love coursing through her in the form of sensory messages carried out by an interconnected system of pain and pleasure, congregating in a small cavity inside of her (that cavity which holds the secret of mankind, and which is sought by all men). It was here, in this cavity, that Sonya's bleeding, bruised, and burned little body began creating life.

--

Piter immediately straightened up, fixing the Ainu with the coldest, most judgemental stare he could muster. This must have been him: his new enemy. He didn't look like much, but one couldn't judge based on appearance.

Itakshir, meanwhile, was feeling slightly bewildered--if at nothing else, than at how much malice could be conveyed through such an expressionless expression. Right away, he felt there was something intimidating about this man he'd never met or even seen before. Perhaps he'd sensed instinctively that this person was his extreme opposite: all brains, and no kindness. And that he somehow held authority over the poor, brainless, kind Ainu.

The way Franze talked about him, though, he might as well have been a baby.

Confused, he agreed with his customary smile, albeit with a trace of uncertainty, "Sure, I'm not using it, anyways. Um...I don't have to be there, either, if you don't want..." It was hard to keep smiling when he allowed his true lack of self-worth to show.

He wouldn't have been so uneasy if he hadn't encountered Auguste in the way that he did. It had watered the seed of doubt that always lurked in his mind. After all, who was he, to her? He couldn't know, for sure, because he didn't think much of himself, to begin with. Maybe he was also just 'a friend', or a fling, or a nobody. Would she break his heart just as easily as she broke the Frenchman's fingers?

And to his dismay, he'd found that he still liked and felt tremendously sorry for Auguste, even after learning who he was. What did that say? About all of them?

--

Supposed to be where? He turned around to see what she was talking about...

And the color drained from his face.

Rushing over, he picked up the metronome gently, practically cradling it, and stared like he couldn't believe his eyes. One could almost see the gears turning angrily in his mind, as he began to piece together what had happened.

The door was open, which meant that someone had to have gone inside. It was impossible to knock the pearl off without upturning the whole metronome, so he doubted it was an accident. There was no way anyone from his crew would have done it, even as a joke, because they knew he would have skinned them alive. And the fact that nothing else had even been touched meant that whoever did it hadn't just been rooting around for valuables.

It all seemed to point to just one person.

Setting the instrument down without a word, he marched out the door and down the hall, hammering furiously on one of the doors. His voice could be heard clear throughout the whole building.

"OPEN THE GODDAMNED DOOR, PITER, YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT--"

When it didn't yield, he broke it open (another thing to pay for), and burst in furiously--only to find it empty. For a moment, he just stood there, letting it sink in. 

That Russian son of a bitch.

There was only one place left in the area he could have gone (or at least, one place left that he would have actually be willing to go to--and even then, it was a little iffy): the Ragtag carnival. Diederik fully intended to hunt him down and throttle him to death.

Those of his crew that had actually stayed in, that morning (most likely hung over), peeked out of their rooms in equal amounts of fear and trepidation as the captain stormed down the hall. It was clear that someone was about to get it. Ignoring them, the Dutchman went back to his room, addressing Vesna from the doorway, struggling to keep his tone down.

"Where do the ragtags stay?" 
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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  DIDNEY WORL on Thu Sep 15, 2011 9:30 pm

He could barely support her weight, and was relying on the wall for his own. Moving his arm from her leg to her back to get her back on her feet, he immediately retracted his hand in something between horror and confusion. Even in the dim light he could see the rich red that painted his hands... And the wall. Where before every nerve seemed to be electrified, he felt suddenly numb. Frighteningly numb. It was the worst he had ever done.

Still numb, he touched her face with bloodied fingers-- as if to make sure she was still alive-- after moving her to the crate. His first thought was to cover it all up-- like it hadn't happened. But when he picked up her dress, half of it fell limply back to the floor, barely still connected to the rest. So he was forced to face what he'd done. To him, it was infinitely worse than killing.

"I..." What was he supposed to say? He just stood there, with the darkness of it all closing in on him, unable to catch his breath with the blood of the only one he loved on his hands.

-------

Why hadn't she just sent Piter off on his own? Was she so in need of something familiar that she would ruin her current life for it? Or did she really care? She was just beginning to separate self-involvement from actual care.

One thing she did care about, one thing she did in absolute certainty, was the man in front of her who looked as if he'd just been told that he'd lost something immense but had to be gracious. That thing couldn't have been her... Could it?

"You don't think I want you to be around...?" She asked almost pitifully. Her heart felt like it was being pulled down into her stomach the longer she looked at his hopeless expression. "You know... I didn't think it was that important to tell you. I thought you knew." She smiled, taking his cheeks in her hands. "I guess you don't... That first night I slept beside you was the first time I didn't have to lie to myself that I was happy." Running her thumb along his cheek, as if coaxing him to smile too, she concluded, "So I want you to stay with me. You're staying, whether you want to or not. Because you're what makes me happy." Looking back inside the tent for a moment, she joked, "It's definitely not him. I'm more like his nanny. Don't let him scare you." It probably wouldn't work to just tell him that, but... If her ear trick had worked before, it would again.

-----------

If his gears were turning, hers had had a few more wrenches thrown in. It was just a little machine he put on when he slept. She slept with the gramophone on sometimes and when it burned she was nowhere near his level of distress (not about it, at least--). She just stood there, confused with a handful of bread, as he stormed down the hall. She visibly shook when he yelled-- she'd never heard something like it before. When his eye was taken out, he hadn't even uttered a word. It was frightening.

And then that frightening energy was focused on her, and she had to make an answer. Half choking on the bread she swallowed, she mumbled, feeling for the first time too small to be safe, "It... Down the road and... Then a right... I think... I know..." it didn't seem like a satisfying answer.

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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Fri Sep 16, 2011 1:09 am

Touching her fingertips to his when he put his hand to her face, she whispered contently, "That was amazing..." She couldn't tell what was on his hand, or what was trickling down her back; her senses were still regrouping. Her mind felt heavy and fuzzy--she assumed from exhaustion. A nap would be good. But why was he so quiet? She wouldn't let herself sleep until he said something.

"Cosim, what's wrong?" Her voice made her sound just as dazed as she was. "Where are you?" She reached out for him, but (unbeknownst to her), he'd turned to pick up her dress. "I think I'm going to take a nap...okay...?" Already, she was nodding off, but not before adding in a sleepy murmur, "I love you..."

Meanwhile, droplets of blood trailed down her skin, staining the crate and the hair that fell across her back. One would have never guessed it was really a shallow wound, the way her skin bled so easily. Only the burned patches that bore scars appeared untouched: being thicker, they had resisted injury.

--

She didn't have to coax him into smiling; he did it on his own. That was all it took, really. He just needed that little bit of reassurance, to feel better, to trust her. Some may have argued that he was too trusting. But he didn't think there was such a thing.

Leaning in, he kissed her once, tenderly, before saying happily, "I--"

But whatever it was he planned to tell her, it got caught in his throat as he stared with widened eyes at something behind her: easily the angriest-looking giant he'd ever seen.

--

Piter was, of course, eavesdropping from just inside the open flap of the carnival tent. He could have gagged at nearly everything Franze was saying--up until she equated herself to his nanny. Silently, he scoffed at that. No proper nanny (according to his definition) would have ever pulled his ear like that. He would definitely scare her little loverboy, though. He would do his damnedest to frighten the hell out of him, at the risk to his own ears, or not.

Unfortunately for him, though, he might have never gotten the chance to intimidate the hapless islander, for it was at that moment that a very familiar Dutchman stomped right into the tent.

--

As soon as she gave him the directions, he headed off that way, leaving her with the option to follow him, if she wished. With strides as long as his, combined with the drive to find and deliver justice unto the most obnoxious person on the face of the earth, he made short time in reaching the ragtag's setup.

Almost immediately upon approaching the place, he saw a familiar face: the Austrian whore...getting snogged by what he could only assume was one of her boy toys. (Was she ever around other women?) Whatever, he didn't have time for that, nor did he give a damn.

Figuring the main tent was the best place to start searching, he let himself right in...and lo and behold.

Piter stood up straight, seemingly unconcerned and unsurprised, "Greetings, Ditya. I would guess that you're back for this?" Holding up the pearl, he tossed it to Diederik (who just barely managed to catch it, on reflex), "You may have it back. It tasted bad, so I can't say I really want it, after all."

(This drew a simultaneously disgusted and even more furious look from the Dutchman.)

"In any case, the greatest reward of all is finally getting to see what became of you." Gingerly, he tapped a finger to his own black eye, and said softly, malevolently, "An eye for an eye... You've no idea how wonderfully amusing I find all of this."

There was a heavy silence as the message was being processed.

Just as calmly, albeit through gritted teeth, Diederik informed him, "Piter. I am going to kill you, now."

"You know, Ditya, sometimes I believe you have an issue with morality, especially when you're--" But what he was about to say next was forcefully cut off when he was bodily lifted into the air and shaken...by his neck. It was just as well, anyways (well, besides the fact that he was being strangled), because what he was going to say would have sounded crazy to anyone else:

"--angry. Which makes sense, in a logically reverse sort of way, since I was designed after you."
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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  DIDNEY WORL on Fri Sep 16, 2011 11:56 am

He thought quickly as he pulled his clothes on. How could she bleed so seriously? For anyone else it wouldn't have been a problem, but she was so small... and it was the light of day, he couldn't very well just carry her out covered in red and a dress that really was no longer a dress.

He would leave to get a blanket and hopefully find bandages, and get her to the bath as quickly as possible-- as much for her as for him, to wash the guilt off his hands.

"I'm here," He finally mumbled. Kissing her temple, he told her, "Don't sleep yet, Sonya, wait a little bit. I'll be right back." He exited her universe and practically ran (he had exhausted most of his energy already) to the medical tent and more or less stole what he needed.

Returning, and after abandoning the idea of getting her dress back on her, he wrapped her up in the blanket so that she wouldn't be visible and draped her over his shoulder. It felt like he was carrying a dead body as he made his way to the bathing car... That was what he felt about it, anyways. Luckily the car wasn't that far away and he tucked the conspicuous blanket inside before getting in himself, and, opening the other side to get to the water pump, began filling up the tub just enough for her. Hopefully he could clean and bandage her up before she became conscious again... Whether she was awake or not. Carefully, he peeled her out of the blanket and sat her in the water. If she was awake (read: just barely awake) she probably wouldn't find cold water to her liking. But he couldn't take her anywhere without doing it. Now that he was wondering, how many extra dresses did she have, anyway?

----------

He was happy again, and then... What was he looking at? She followed his fearful gaze all the way to...

No.

No, no, no, no. Not him.

She was too late to stop him from going in, and only heard some words spoken by Piter, in his usual style, and then... Nothing. Finally going in and pulling Itakshir with her (she was too afraid for her own life to try and stop him) she nearly screamed. Well, she very well might have-- it wasn't what she was most focused on.

Clutching Itakshir's sleeve with white knuckles, she joked through oncoming sobs, "D-do something...!" Somewhere deep in her mind was the feeling that something like her child was dying... Which felt more familiar than it should have. "He's going to kill him, Itakshir, please...!"

Vesna, however, had not gotten there so quickly. Before she had even started to follow him, she had paced along the street nervously-- did she really want to go back to Mystique? In the end she had rushed after him uncertainly on the grounds that he could be hurt... Somehow. And she couldn't be absent for it again.

She had trouble locating where he was until she heard a high-pitched scream and stumbled to it... And had the same reaction Franze did, only a bit different. "DIEDERIK--!" She shrieked in horror. But there was something else in her voice-- something like chastisement. She couldn't be sure if it was directed at him, or herself, for assuming he couldn't do wrong. It wasn't as if Piter didn't deserve it... But all this for a pearl?

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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Fri Sep 16, 2011 5:08 pm

What she really needed was the doctor. The bleeding was a result of her skin being damaged by the radiation, and without proper treatment, would likely become infected. But she couldn't know that, because she didn't know that her skin was just as internally burned as it was externally.

All she knew was that she'd gone from being pleasantly warm to suddenly cold.

Whimpering, eyes closed and barely cognitive, she complained tearfully, "I don't want a bath...right now..." Head resting on the side of the tub, she wept gently, trying to sleep. Why was he being so mean?

And she would have wept harder, if she'd known what had become of her dress. The only other one she had (besides a night gown) was the one she'd been stuck in at Mistique.

--

Even if Franze hadn't begged him, he probably would have stepped in, anyways. But her distress served to encourage him even more. Without giving a second thought to the consequences (as far as his own safety went), he took a few bounding steps up to the giant and leapt onto his back, latching on and causing him to drop the Russian in surprise.

Piter fell to the ground rather unceremoniously, coughing and gasping for air. He sounded like he had pertussis.

Diederik stumbled and very nearly fell over backwards (which wouldn't have been good for him or Itakshir), but managed to land a backwards punch on his attacker's face. Yelping, the Ainu let go and landed on his back, clutching his mouth, from which a stream of blood was flowing. Scrambling to his hands and knees, he spit out something white and bloodstained into the dirt. It wasn't a pearl.

The Dutchman turned his attention back to Piter, grabbing him by the front of his collar, resolving to just beat him to death. That is, until a familiar voice screamed his name.

Pausing for a considerably long moment, he muttered a curse in his mother tongue and threw Piter aside like a rag doll. The Russian was slightly battered, and his neck was badly bruised, but he would otherwise live another day. The bastard hadn't a clue how lucky he was. Diederik should have told Vesna to stay in the room--no doubt, this reflected poorly on him. ...But really, this was the kind of man that he often was. Bitterly, he wondered if maybe this would make her understand the truth of his nature.

Giving one last glare to Franze, as if to say 'keep your brat away from me' (he'd known the both of them long enough to know that she got bothered by Piter just as much as he did), he took Vesna's hand and left.

It wasn't until they were halfway down the road that he let go of her. He walked ahead in a brooding silence, frustrated with how the whole situation had turned out.
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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  DIDNEY WORL on Fri Sep 16, 2011 7:41 pm

He should have taken her to the doctor. Could have. But doctors asked questions, doctors had to know what did it. Who did it. And he had done it, and no one would know.

"I know..." He agreed quietly, putting her hair over her shoulder so he could rinse the evidence out without it tampering with her back. "It's going to get colder, but afterwards you can have all the warm blankets you want..." This was more difficult than he thought it would be. Getting a block of soap, he moved her so she wouldn't slump over the side, and cleaned up the marks on her back as he sought fit. He knew that her condition made her bruise and bleed easily, but that was the extent he worried about it.

Once he didn't see any more blood on her, he dried her off with a nearby folded (hopefully clean) towel and bandaged the marks of his guilt. Finally putting her undergarments on her (it was like trying to clothe a rag doll), he was at a loss for how to get her out again.

In the end he just smuggled her back out in the blanket she'd come in with, back to her special place (the place that he'd most likely effectively ruined for himself and her, in varying degrees) and wrapped the blanket around her like a cocoon, falling asleep while holding her to make sure she slept. And that, he hoped, would be the end of it. He had no idea what would lie ahead... Or what would lie even farther ahead.

----------

Franze was intelligent. She was sharp. But in matters like these she had no place, when she desperately wished she did. She just had to brace herself for two things held in the balance with unsure outcomes. Piter could come out of it alright, and Itakshir be seriously hurt. Or Itakshir could stay unscathed, and Piter would be left with an uncertain future.

But it didn't matter. As soon as the Ainu hit the ground, she rushed to him-- what else could she do?-- and the rest flew by as if the two of them were completely outside of it all. She supposed she should have been worrying about Piter... But he wasn't the one with blood dripping down his chin. And, she supposed, he wasn't the one she really cared about most. Once Diederik (and was that Vesna with him?) had gone (what had stopped him?), she could take a better look at the damage he had done. Spotting something beside him (a trail of dark red), she followed it to... His tooth. Not really wanting to see where it had once fit, she wiped the trail off of his face, on the verge of tears from it all (when had she started to cry so much?) but still attempting a smile like he always did. "You really did that... Didn't you?" She told him to do something. Instead of throwing punches or kicks or any kind of futile thing, he had jumped straight onto the aggressor and disarmed him.

-------------

Vesna had never seen such a side of him before. She hadn't ever even imagined it. It frightened her even more when he turned to her in the middle of his rage, and dragged her out (didnt he remember her hands had burns?) before stranding her to walk on her own. She very nearly tripped at the sudden deceleration, but kept jogging to keep up with him, and even get ahead of him. She felt betrayed-- more by herself than by him.

"You're better than that." She muttered (again, at which party?), trying to retain an air of indignancy even while practically running. Being behind was being the shamed one. She wanted him to know that.

Still... He didn't seem to act for no reason. That pearl must have meant so much to him. Enough for him to kill. Vesna began to second guess herself, just as she had deliberating on following him, and it had been too late. She didn't want it to be too late for her. She loved him-- or she had fooled herself into it, and she couldn't very well smart herself out.

Slowing down to meet him, she strode along side him (with a little difficulty) for a while in silence. "Is it really a pearl?" She asked gently. It seemed too much ado about polished oyster spit. "Why do you keep it?" Then, even quieter, she added, "I'm sorry. I couldn't let you do that. If you went to jail, you could never come back to me. Or you would be on a poster, and some man would be saying you deserved it, too..." If he had killed Piter, she was certain Franziska would have sent police after him. And he was even more of an easy target than Cosim, and his ship, his escape, was nowhere to be found in this place.

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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Fri Sep 16, 2011 11:54 pm

Tired out as she was, she ended up sleeping for quite a long time--a couple of hours, at least. In that short amount of time, some microorganism had found it's way into her wounds, where it was given easy access to her bloodstream. That day, Sonya's body was playing host to all sorts of new life.

She woke up slowly, confusion clouding her thoughts. Her back hurt and felt somewhat swollen, and she was sweating and shaking from chills--despite that she was wrapped up in a blanket. And even though she'd just gotten plenty of rest, she felt more fatigued than before. Her whole body ached and shook, and when she tried to hug her arms to herself within her cocoon, she found that she was wrapped in bandages. They didn't mean anything to her. She didn't understand what was going on. She'd gone to sleep so happy, and woke up to a world of pain, for no reason that she could imagine--it was practically surreal. Not to mention frightening.

"Cosim... Cosim..." She cried feebly, to wake him up. "Cosim, I don't feel well..."

--

He attempted to smile along with her (he was just relieved it was over, to be honest--he still didn't even know why it had happened, in the first place), but it turned into more of a grimace. Laughing somewhat ruefully, he touched the new gap in his teeth with his tongue, wincing, "Yeah...that was pretty stupid, wasn't it?" At least no one had to die. He glanced over at the other man, who'd gotten up and dusted himself off quietly--the first thing he'd done was go to the opening of the tent, presumably to make sure the Dutchman had gone away.

(In truth, Piter was doing his best to ignore the other two, feeling both uncomfortable and sulky. This person had saved his life, sure, but he still disliked him. ...Especially for immediately stealing Franze's attention.)

Wiping the remaining blood from his mouth on the back of his hand, he tore off a little piece of his shirt (it was dirty, but he didn't know any better) and used it to staunch the blood. "Hey, Franze," he said after a moment of honest thought, "...What just happened?"

--

Better than that? He snorted and informed her frankly, "You're kidding yourself." Yes, he was indeed the shamed one, and rightfully so. But shame was the least of the negative emotions he was feeling, at the moment. He easily could have explained to her what else Piter had done to him, but he wasn't in the mood to make excuses for himself.

His countenance softened slightly, though, when she slowed down to keep pace with him, again. She kept coming back, and as much as it exasperated him, he couldn't deny...it was also making him fall for her.

"Ja... But it's not about the pearl. He wanted the metronome to stop working." Beyond that, he offered no explanation. How could he explain that without the rhythmic clicking, he'd wake up in a sweat, yelling, or even in tears? It would have been hard for even the most talkative of men to admit. No, it was never about the pearl. Sure, he could have gotten a new weight made for the pendulum, but it could have taken days, or even a week or more. Diederik knew that, and so did Piter.

Sighing, he put a hand around her waist. Her somewhat misguided way of thinking (if he were on a wanted poster, it would be because he did, indeed, deserve it) was endearing in a way, but his nerves had been shot by that point, leaving him too tired by everything. And the day had only just begun.
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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  DIDNEY WORL on Sat Sep 17, 2011 11:36 am

"Cosim..."

He groaned. He should have gone to sleep when she did, but had worked to make sure she was okay before he could, leaving him still tired. Very tired.

"Cosim, I don't feel well..."

That woke him up. Taking a look at her once he'd opened his eyes, he realized she was right. He had cleaned the cuts and bandaged them... What could he do now except take her to an expert? Maybe the doctor wouldn't ask any questions. And if he did... He would get Sonya to answer, or something. Her incoherence would just make it all irrelevant. Nothing could explain away her lack of most of her clothes, though.

"Okay," He agreed, struggling to pick her up in the blankets and stand himself up at the same time. "It's time to see the doctor." He would work his magic or whatever he did, and everything would be back to the way it was. It was a little early in the morning... But doctors had to treat anyone, right?

He noted gratefully that it was too early for many people to be out-- it was quite the trek to the supposed doctor's (was he even old enough?) tent. Not thinking much of politeness (when did he ever?) he walked right into the tent, only remembering the courtesy to adress him professionally. "Doctor?" He wondered if he ever had any other patients.

----------

"Don't say that," She chastised softly, "You saved his life and you hardly knew him." She would have said more, had he not sought fit to stop the bleeding with a ripped up piece of cloth. Pulling a monogrammed handkerchief out of her sewing bag (it wasn't especially clean, but alot cleaner than his shirt) she swapped the fabrics and half-smiled apologetically, "What just happened was Piter making trouble. He stole something from that man." And had done a whole host of other things. "And that's why I need to watch him, so he won't do it again."

Looking over at the Russian standing outside, she called out tiredly, "Aren't you going to at least thank him?"

------------

"You're kidding yourself."

"Keep your opinions to yourself." She replied curtly. She could very well fool herself if she wanted to. So far, no reality had been gracious to her, so fantasy was the next best thing. She could say he was anything she wanted.

"Okay." For the first time she decided not to inquisition him about his vague answers. The metronome had been on when she first had gone there after the fire, so she'd put it on when she left to see her sister. It helped him sleep. That was all she had at the moment, but realized she wouldn't get many answers out of him by then. Besides, hearing him sigh so tiredly had her resolved to try and get answers out of the crew while he was asleep.

"Is that how you punish yourself for having a job like you do? Invving yourself with people like Piter?" She half joked. In a way, she did the same-- but her penance were the people involved in her job.

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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Mon Sep 19, 2011 8:59 pm

Allen was catching up on some much-needed sleep, at the time. He was usually an early riser...despite also turning in late, every day, due in no small part to his late-night stargazing. When it came down to it, he just didn't get very much rest. The night before, he'd lost track of the time, and had stumbled back into his tent at an ungodly hour--he hadn't even had the energy to take his clothes off, before collapsing into bed.

That said, he jolted awake (nearly falling to the floor) immediately, upon hearing the magic word. It was an automatic reflex.

"Who is it--" He tried to ask through a stifled yawn, fumbling around for his specs. Adjusting them on his nose and blinking blearily, he immediately straightened up when he saw what he was faced with. Ushering Cosim over to the 'examining' chair, the very first thing that popped out of his mouth was not 'What happened?', but rather, "What's the problem?"

Sonya answered for him, weakly, "I took a bath...and don't feel well..."

It didn't make any sense to the young doctor. Clearly, he was going to have to figure out what was ailing her, on his own.

Giving her a thermometer, he put on some medical gloves and eased the blanket off of her shoulders--only to drop it in surprise. Not only because she was practically naked (of course, as a healthcare professional, he had to put aside nudity taboos, but it was still kind of shocking when it was so unexpected), but also... What in the world had happened to her? It was hard not to exclaim in surprise when the bloodstained bandages on her back were exposed.

Checking her temperature before tackling the mysterious injury (a daunting prospect, if he had to be honest), he noted that she had a low-grade fever. He didn't want to think the worst, but...knowing her medical history, the evidence was stacking up. If she had an infection from whatever happened to her back, then her immune system was likely nowhere near strong enough to fight it. The weak fever was a sign of that.

Gently peeling away the bandages, he let them fall away one by one to reveal something that looked like it came fresh out of a horror story. And that wasn't even counting the bruises.

Trying not to think about what he was looking at (after all, at this point, maybe it would be most prudent to heal first, ask questions later), he opened his medical kit and swabbed a sample of blood from one of the still-oozing cuts. There was a notable lack of pus... It would be nice if that was a sign of no infection, but... Her bone marrow was burned: it couldn't make white blood cells to engulf bacteria and produce pus, in the first place. It was a sign that her immune system was failing.

It only took a quick peek under a microscope to see that microbes had, indeed, multiplied considerably, and... He squinted--a lot of them looked like freshwater organisms? The bathwater, he was guessing; most of the water here was never properly sterilized, even for drinking.

He took a moment to think. The wound itself was badly infected, and the fever meant it had spread freely through her bloodstream. It was too late to simply sanitize it or implement antibiotics, given her condition. With little time to spare, he made a hasty decision that he prayed wouldn't end up being the end of the both of them. He didn't want to be on the strongman's bad side because his girlfriend had died in Allen's care.

"Don't worry, Miss Rostislavivna, you're going to be fine," he assured her while wetting a cloth from a bottle in his medical kit, "Try to inhale this, for me? It'll take some of the pain away." Smiling vaguely, she nodded and did so...and subsequently slumped over, unconscious. The clock began to tick.

Moving quickly, he explained as he gathered together supplies, put on a pot of water to boil, and began clearing off a table. "It's bad--I don't have time to explain how bad, but... I mean, this wouldn't normally be a full-out surgical procedure, but considering the size of the wound--" He tied a cloth mask over his nose and mouth, and pushed one onto Cosim as well, "Well, you'll just have to trust me."

Dipping a sheet in the boiling water, he wrung it out just once before throwing over the table, and instructed, "Lay her out, facedown, but do not touch her after that. It'll be hard enough keeping things sterile."

Prepping a syringe, he added, voice just slightly tinged with uncharacteristic nervousness, "I'll need you to stay in here, too. Do you know your blood type? She might need a transfusion. ...Or a skin graft."

--

He thought about it for a moment, and was about to ask quite seriously if knowing someone ought to make a difference when saving their life, but Piter chose that moment to speak. His voice was slightly raspy, after nearly being choked to death, but he otherwise sounded like his usual self.

"I haven't seen most of this place, yet. I believe I'll take a walk--surely, you trust me to be able to do that much, on my own?" Probably not. And not without good reason. So before she could object, he went ahead and left, rubbing the purpling spots on his neck. He needed time to think, and consider his situation and options. And how he was to deal with this new competition.

After he was gone, Itakshir, still looking just a little bewildered, commented, "...I don't think he likes me very much." (If only he knew.) "Did I do something wrong?" Pulling her handkerchief away momentarily to see if the bleeding had stopped (it hadn't, but it was getting there), he smiled apologetically, "Sorry, I'm getting this all bloody--I'll wash it, later. I guess I should rinse my mouth out, too." He flashed his once-flawless grin, now with a bloody hole in the upper corner, "Does it look as bad as it tastes?"

--

It was almost ironic, in a way. Because normally, he did keep his opinions to himself. But not in this case; he would continue to insist his stance until she recognized that he was just no good for her. Then she could leave him, and he could love her guiltlessly. Needless to say, it was a confusing moral dilemma, for him. And it didn't help that Piter's words kept ringing in his head like a particularly annoying fly.

"You know, Ditya, sometimes I believe you have an issue with morality."

So even someone like Piter, who lacked a conscience entirely, could see it? Or was it because he lacked a conscience? Because they were similar? But they couldn't be... Surely, Piter didn't think this much about right and wrong... And yet, how could Diederik know that?

He snorted, still half in thought, "The only reason he has anything to do with me is because I knew his father." Otherwise...given the choice, he'd go back and nip that relationship in the bud, before it could cause him any grief. Quietly, he added, "So no, that's not how I punish myself." If he were a decent person, he'd have never gone back for that pearl. He would have tossed the metronome out the window, and let his subconsciousness punish himself, at night. That would have been fitting. Instead, he hid from his dreams and agonized over his own decisions in life, while simultaneously keeping up a gruff, no-nonsense persona. If any of his crew had a clue how much he damn near hated himself for his job, they might have been shocked. Whether he had a true conscience or not, he certainly didn't let other people think that he did.

Slowing down, he came to a halt, and his hand slipped down to take hers. There was a tinge of melancholy in his tone that went beyond his years. "There's nothing like the ocean around here...is there?" That was where he needed to be, when he didn't want to think--when he just wanted salty air and a boundless sea.
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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  DIDNEY WORL on Mon Sep 19, 2011 10:15 pm

She was put under his care immediately-- it was more worrisome than it should have been. She wasn't going to die. She wouldn't. Because he was taking care of it. But didn't the fact that a doctor had to take care of it so... Seriously mean that she would have died otherwise? He felt like he could die, himself. Right there. He had done it to her, after all, because he couldn't control himself. There were bruises all over her because he loved her, and she was slipping away because he loved her. It would be best for her to just be rid of him altogether.

But he didn't have that option, at the moment, as he was thrown a medical mask (which he hastily put on) and asked what his blood type was. Blood type? "No... I don't... Know what that is..." Surgery? Graft? Still he did as he was told (order was always more comforting than none) and barely stopped himself from stroking her hair, as if she was just asleep. What had he done to her, anyways?

Just trust him. Trust a kid who was barely twenty. "I don't understand--" he stammered uncharacteristically. "You got rid of a bruise before-- get rid of this!" He quieted down as he looked down at her as if he was already looking at a dead body. "She's all I have..." And even more than that, now-- though it wasn't like he knew.

--------------------

Franze was about to catch Piter, but he had already gone. She was worried, sure, but would only worry herself more by trying to figure out what went on in his head. Whether he was afraid, or sad, and wouldn't say so. Even if he was near her he still felt distant. She knew somehow he hadn't been that way always. "Don't stay out too long..."

So she turned her attention back to the one who was always ready to show his emotions, regardless of what they were. Shaking her head at his apology, she smoothed down his hair and smiled. "It's yours, okay? I have others."

His grin seemed even more simple, now, but... Somehow it made it more genuine. If she had lost a tooth, she would have never smiled again. But he was back to his old self practically already. "He doesn't really like anyone--Come on, sit up so I can see it better..." She couldn't really lift him, but she took his arm and gestured until he was in her sewing chair. Handing him a half glass of water she hadn't finished that day, she kissed him lightly before deciding, "No... I don't think it looks as bad as it tastes. But you should really even them out." Her smile went away to only be replaced by a slightly melancholy one.

"You're so wonderful, it makes me sad to think about, you know?" She wouldn't have jumped on a larger opponent's back just to save a stranger. She would just have the courtesy to not look as they died.

-------------------------

She had begun to love that snort-- it was the closest he would get to a laugh. It only encouraged her to stay, if she knew she was making him laugh. Morality wasn't something she concerned herself over-- or, at least, she had severed parts off to make her feel better about her life. It was working effectively for her so far, but whatever system he used, it wasn't working. "I think you deserve an award for knowing two generations of Piter. 5 minutes around him is bad enough." She had tried to be nice. But the man ran circles around her mind and she couldn't get the knots out of her thoughts for weeks.

She thought they'd go back to the room, and she could hold him as he fell asleep. Feeling the weight of a man's head against her chest, hearing his breathing come slow and even was something she wished for, sometimes above most everything else in life. It was a gesture of "this is enough". Reassurance that that was all they wanted from her and she didn't have to give anything else; if she had, she would, until she had wasted herself away.

Thinking carefully, she responded gently, "Not here, there isn't. But we'll all get to it. We'll see it sometime." As if it were some unreachable place, like heaven. For her, it was. It was the place her life could change. "And you can go back to it... And then come back to me." Laughing silently while continuing to pull him along, "People say my head is so empty you can put your ear to it and hear the ocean. You can try, if you like. But you need to eat something and rest. Please?"

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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Tue Sep 20, 2011 8:40 pm

"It has to be the right type, or else it can't mix with her blood. We'll have to take samples from each of us," he mumbled, cursing under his breath, "Dammit, we're short on time, as it is..." Of course, he knew his own type, but the only way to test others' was to mix different samples together. The problem here, of course, was that there were only three of them; to do a proper test, they should have had samples from all four types, to work with. But given the circumstances, they would just have to go on what they had, and hope for the best.

He began to clean up the area, working quickly as he talked, "It's not that simple, to just make it go away. It's infected with bacteria and parasites, from the air and the water." And likely from contact with Cosim himself, not to mention whatever had ingrained those chilling letters into her back. "They've spread through her bloodstream; that's why she has a fever, and feels sick. But because of the radiation, her body isn't able to just fight it off, the way ours would." After pulling a few nasty-looking metal instruments out of his bag, he steralized them with a bottle of equally nasty-smelling liquid, and set them on the table. He selected his first weapon of choice, warning Cosim, "You may not want to watch. I'm going to have to remove the infected tissue--there's no other option, right now."

Wasting no time, he cut directly into her back, methodically removing the skin around the wounds, one by one. The cuts were shallow, but with the size of the area being damaged, and given her condition...

"...Don't panic, but like I said, I might have to take some of your skin and use it to help her heal. I can't take it from somewhere else on her own body, because her skin is already so damaged. If you're not comfortable with it, I can use my own, but given that I'm the only doctor here...I'm not really keen on incapacitating myself in the middle of surgery, you know?" At least her immune system was faulty, so there was little chance it would be able to 'reject' the donor skin, even if it wanted to. He wasn't fully equipped to harvest and mesh a graft, really, but...as with the possible blood trasnfusion, he would have to make do. There wasn't a whole lot of choice, in the matter.

--

He allowed her to coax him into the chair, and took a swig of the water, to wash the blood away. Presenting her with a cleaner smile, he laughed, "How about now?"
It still hurt, physically, but it was easy for him to bounce back. What was a tooth, after all? It wasn't that big of a deal, was it? He could still eat...he could still smile... Maybe if he'd lost multiple teeth, he'd be upset--he liked smiling, after all.

But he felt that smile falter with hers, as he struggled to understand what she wanted. Uncertainly, but with total conviction, he offered, "I can try to be worse, if that makes you happier...somehow."

He said he could try, but there was little chance he could be any different. He was too simple to know how to not be himself, unless he legitimately did not feel like himself. He didn't know how being 'wonderful' (Did she really think that? It would be a lie to say that didn't excite him, a little--) could make her sad. But if it really did...well, he didn't know how not being so wouldn't make her sadder still, but he would try anything to win her over.

--

"Someone dropped him on a head, as a kid--probably that Austrian whore," he grunted, "He's nothing like his father." Pyotr Senoir had been a man much more to Diederik's liking: hardworking, a fellow lover of the sea... 'Disappointed' would have been a light term to describe how the Dutchman had felt upon seeing that the offspring was a scrawny, obnoxious, spoiled little brat. He had to wonder if Piter himself realized how little he was like the man he worshipped. And if it bothered him, or if he was incapable even of caring about that much.

He was quiet for a long, long moment, after she spoke. There was the sound of his shoes scraping against the dusty road, and his clothes swishing slightly...but for all his size, he was amongst the quietest of men.

Finally, he leaned over and put his ear next to hers for a moment. "I hear your heartbeat. That's all you hear, when you listen to the inside of a conch." A smooth, steady rush--the tide coming in and going away, the heart pushing out blood and pulling it back in... It was probably poetic, in a way, how the heart sounded the same as the ocean. Straightening back up, he mumbled, "You're beautiful, you know...like the sea." And maybe (no matter how much he told himself he shouldn't) he would fall for her, like he had the sea.

As they made it back to the inn, he shook his head, "I'm going to lie down; I'll eat later." He was exhausted--too much had happened in the course of only a few hours. Unlocking the door, he produced the pearl from his pocket and washed it off in the bathroom sink. After cleansing it of Piter's spit (it was good that Diederik was not a squeamish person, or he might have felt slightly sick), he repositioned it carefully on the metronome, and turned it on with baited breath.

Click... Click... Click...

He exhaled, relieved that it worked. Pulling his shoes off, he sat down in the bed and pulled the eyepatch off, along with the room key from his pocket. "I'm going to sleep for a while," he placed the key on the nightstand, "If you want to go out, here's the key...just make sure to lock the door." No need for someone to break in again and take out his other eye.
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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  DIDNEY WORL on Tue Sep 20, 2011 10:11 pm

While he was talking, Cosim was scanning the room for... Something. Anything. Something, some way he could help. Unsurprisingly, everything in the room looked unfamiliar to him. Sonya would know. She knew everything. But she was on the brink of something awful and he had only himself to blame. It didn't help at all that he couldn't touch her, or comfort her-- it was more for himself, really.

Gagging when the young doctor started working, he also had to surpress his anger. At the moment, someone was hurting her and damaging her-- though all for a better end-- and he was forced to do nothing. No matter if he saved her life, he still wouldn't like the man by the end of it all.

"Take anything." He immediately offered, but wasn't sure what to put forth. "I don't need to be out, if it's faster." He wasn't a stranger to pain. And really, it was a kind of retribution for him.

He reached out and almost touched her hair before reminding himself not to. He just wanted to see her eyes open, and a smile spread across her face, and hear her say "You know I love you?" To which he would say that he didn't know alot of things. And she would tell him it was the only thing he needed to know for her to be happy. Burying his face in his hands, he blinked away the moisture in his eyes.

------------

She took the water and set it aside, but not before touching her fingers to his lips lightly. "I don't want to make it hurt more." Turning to put away her supplies (because really, what else was she going to accomplish that day?) she paused when he proposed a solution.

"Be worse?" She couldn't help but smile as if a child had made an innocent conjecture, that to everyone else's knowledge, was wrong. Silently, in thought, she propped herself up on the table in front of him after clearing off pins. "I've had the worst, and you are much better. I'm... Just not the one who's better, yet." And he would do it just to make her happy? "You find me things to be happy about every day."

He had already won her over-- it was practically overkill. But she was still cautious of her words. She wasn't about to tell him how she really felt unless he felt the same. She wasn't good at deciphering fabricated emotions... But then again, he didn't have any, did he?

"Itakshir... On a scale of..." She tilted her head. Men didn't like questions like 'how do you really feel about me?', so she would need to get creative. "...let's say one to twenty. When you're around me, how would you rate... How you feel?" It still didn't come out right. But if he didn't really feel the same, she would see it on his face.

-------------

She clenched her fists as much as they would go, but couldn't keep them that way-- making her point seem a bit weak. "If my hands were better, you should have sent me there, instead. She's afraid of me-- Piter too, I think. I could have dropped them both on their heads."

It was her turn to be the silent one, though, and practically held her breath when he was so close. But she began to breathe again-- though not as slowly as before. He'd called her beautiful-- like many faceless men had before-- but this time, it hung heavy in the air and seeped into her mind like sunlight and water to a flower. Her smile bloomed like it hadn't before. Diederik had never called her beautiful. She'd never gotten a compliment. Was she finally getting to him, or was he reaching out for her, first?

Looking every which way but him, she grinned breathlessly. "Thank you..." ...And then proceeded to frown again when he refused to eat. Due to the values hammered into her head from her family, if someone that tall wouldn't eat anything it wouldn't take long for them to waste away to nothing. Not that she believed it would happen, but she didn't want to find out.

So, when they got to the room, she took the keys and pushed the eyepatch aside to put the bread in its place. "I think I'm going to go see how my friends are doing," It had slipped her mind that maybe they all assumed she was kidnapped, or missing. "When I get back, I want this bread gone, okay?" Leaning down, she placed a kiss just above his stitches before leaving (and had walked halfway down the hall before remembering to go back and lock the door--).

She exited the building, making sure to inform the man she knew to be his brother (in retrospect, maybe it wasn't a good idea) quite emphatically that she didn't want him skipping meals and to wake him in a few hours and remind him to eat. He seemed to understand (but why did he look like he was about to laugh?).

Vesna knew the way to the ragtags like the back of her hand by then, but it seemed more difficult to make her way to her actual home. When she got there, she saw that cars were being brought in and constructed-- even some girls were helping-- but they were hardly livable yet. So, she headed to the main tent. "Hello...?" Seeing the state of everyone wasn't what she looked forward to.

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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Wed Sep 21, 2011 8:19 pm

He worked carefully but quickly, little by little. And being so absorbed in his work, he wasn't paying attention to Cosim. At least, not until he finished and looked up, ready to take the graft.

And he paused, catching the older, bigger, stronger man in a rare state of weakness, head in his hands.

Allen was a slightly detached person, especially when working. You couldn't let emotions rule you, when people's lives and health were depending on you. He was a heart specialist, but there were many wounds of the heart he hadn't a clue how to heal.

Clearing his throat lightly, he picked up the bottle of antiseptic and a clean cloth, "I can numb the area, so it won't hurt. It'll just feel a little weird, having your skin pulled away. Otherwise...it could be pretty unbearable, and you should be as calm as possible, if you're going to donate blood, too." Always a reasonable answer for everything. He didn't know if the strongman really wanted to be numbed or not, but for Allen's sake, if he could avoid causing pain, he would.

He began cleaning a spot on his upper arm, and selected a long, flat blade from his instruments. Prodding the area beforehand, he dimmed down the nerve endings and positioned the knife. He hadn't told Cosim this, but...this was not usually done by hand. It was hard not to sound nervous.

"Ready? One...Two...Three--"

--

How did he feel about her? Well, that was an awfully easy question.

"One hundred," he answered earnestly, right off the bat. But then, something occurred to him, "Or...is one the best, and twenty the worst? Because in that case..." He had to think about it. "Zero. Is there a number lower than zero? One-half?"

(For the record, he had no concept of negative numbers. Adding and subtracting was hard enough in itself--he only had so many fingers.)

Smiling, he took her hands, and kissed her fingers, "But if you wanted to know, you could just ask: I love being around you." He didn't fancy himself a clever man...but he did like to think that occasionally, he got things right.

--

Diederik waited, listening to her footsteps down the hallway...and then returning, with a click of the forgotten lock. Sighing, he relaxed (though, if he could hear her talking to his brother, he would have groaned in mortification) and tore off a hunk of the bread while lying down, chewing carefully before giving himself over to sleep.

--

Hanako hated this country. She was beginning to contemplate suicide, for she was seeing no other way out of her situation, without compromising her dignity. She'd honestly rather die than shame herself. Shame was one of the only things she had left, after all.

Perhaps the most terrible thing was that she was alone, here. For as long as she could remember, even when she was a slave, she'd always been surrounded by the community of the hanamachi. They could be cold, they could be cruel...but they were something. She'd never felt as isolated before as she did in this place.

But perhaps the worst thing of all was the men. She was the biggest celebrity in Gion, back home, and she'd only taken high-class customers. Rich, respectable men, who knew how to treat a work of art. 

The men here were brutes--impossibly forward, when they weren't outright harassing her. They'd even had the nerve to touch her, sometimes inappropriately.

This was one of those times.

She was just outside the main tent, hidden from the general view by a car. It had been a complete mistake when she'd glanced into the carnival customer's eyes--and a terrible one.

"Please...please don't--!" She was struggling to retain the polite speech that had been drilled into her tongue, but it was difficult, when translating from Japanese. ...And when a crazed stranger was holding her down by the arms and forcing his mouth down her shirt.

She tried to scream, but it was caught in her throat. She'd been trained to be quiet, composed, elegant...screaming didn't fit into that mold. Even the first time a man--more monster than man--had forced himself on her. Of course, she'd agreed to it, but she didn't have much of a choice, at that point.

"Please...!"

She'd been a teenager, and a virgin, of course.

"Stop...! Stop!"

She hadn't screamed. She'd just cried, it hurt so badly.

"S-STOP! HELP! HELP!"

Had she ever yelled, in her life? She wasn't sure, but perhaps it'd built up over the years, for her cries for help merged into one long scream. Her attacker, drunk from her accidental spell, went on, unfettered. So she just kept screaming, until someone in this terrible place would notice her.
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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  DIDNEY WORL on Wed Sep 21, 2011 9:55 pm

Cosim was about to tell the man not to numb it-- that he deserved it, and it was the best option. But he worked too quickly, and his upper arm was numbed and the countdown was set. He still couldn't bring himself to look up-- he didn't trust this guy with his emotions. And of course... He didn't want to see what was happening. The counting was too slow. She would die because he decided to count down for a man who (on the surface) shouldn't have needed it. "Get it over with!" He finally barked.

And it was done-- but not over with, as if it was a shot. Possibly worse than bearing the pain was feeling a sensation incongruous to what it actually was, and wanting to see, not knowing if it was over or not. Was he taking it by sections, or one large piece? How much would be gone? But it all was for her.

--------------

She pursed her lips and stared intently at him. Did he not understand? "You heard what I... One hundred..." What was that supposed to mean? There was a considerable difference between 20 and 100. In her mind, 20 meant that he loved her. Did he register the meaning, or....? She kept opening her mouth to say something, but wasn't sure what it should be.

All the words went away when he kissed her hands... And used the word 'love'. Perhaps she was being too careful, but it wasn't the context she had waited for, and not the one she would use. Suddenly all the stress of trying not to be sucked in by love like usual, and fall into it gracefully, came crashing down on her. For all her supposed new found strength (which she only made a point to use around him), she was still relatively the same-- needy and selfish.

As soon as he said those words, tears gathered in her eyes and quickly fell on her cheeks. She didn't make a move to take back her hands while her lip trembled and she shook her head like she no longer wanted the words there. "I... I don't want that...! It's not good enough... I..." She paused to sob-- it was even worse an episode than when Auguste had arrived. "I want you to love me...!" Maybe it had been her fault for giving him such an obscure question. Finally letting her hands slip from his grip, she hid her face in them doubled over. She was barely audible through her fingers. "I love you so much... I-- I tried so hard...!" Too hard to simply be passed over for time with her. If she thought about it... There was no real difference in 'I love you' and 'I love being around you'. But, as evidenced, she wasn't.

-----------

She didn't see anyone in the tent. Maybe they all had gone to help work? The thought made her smile-- they made more money than their families, traveled all across the country, and yet many of them still considered themselves farm girls. After going to speak with them (some did really think she'd been kidnapped by Piter-- in hindsight she shouldn't have laughed at the idea while they were crying over it--), she was told Crina had gone to live with her mother. Feeling quite depressed (they were like sisters, after all) she went to find Dimitrie, or if he was nowhere, to see if any of Crina's things (or, what she'd had after the fire) still remained in the temporary sleeping space.

But before she could, a scream met her ears. It shouldn't have-- they didn't have the resources to restart the business yet. And it wasn't exactly a faked scream of pleasure. More often than not, though, it was she who dealt with men who didn't want to pay or be nice. She'd had to at the docks at her home, and it had fit in naturally here.

So, without a second thought, she ran toward the noise, and found it (hopefully) just in time. Was there even a woman under that man? Without a word (more noise would cause more panic), she lifted her heeled foot (hadn't he noticed her presence yet?) and slammed it into his head, near his temple. Not enough to kill him, but overly incapacitate him? Yes. (she held a certain grudge against people like that). So there she was-- tiny thing.

"There you are!" She exclaimed as if she'd been looking, and had even known her at all, pulling her up and wincing when her burns were squeezed. "Some people just can't wait, can they? Oh--" She gently reached over and pulled the smaller woman's blouse back up. "There. Like it never happened." That was what one had to do, here.

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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Thu Sep 22, 2011 11:31 am

He nearly jumped and stabbed Cosim by accident when he was barked at. Nevertheless, he managed to get one considerably large strip of one or two layers of skin off--leaving a pink rectangular patch on his arm. Now...he would really have to work quickly. The graft would have to be applied fast, given the conditions he was working in. It would be pointless if it just got infected all over again, from being mishandled.

But applying the graft first meant there was nothing he could do to clean up Cosim's freshly bleeding wound. Hopefully he had done a decent enough job on the nerves that the pain wouldn't set in, in the meantime. It would eventually, though, and he wanted this whole procedure to be over with before dealing with that.

"Don't touch your arm," he ordered, as he rushed to get the graft cleaned with saline, "I'll get to it in just a second--"

Using a different knife, he made numerous cuts in an almost brick-like pattern--'meshing' the graft so that it would cover a larger area. Carefully, he draped it over her back, leaving no space for air pockets. Threading a surgical needle with hands that were beginning to tremble slightly, he began to stitch her up like a rag doll. One last cleaning, and then some gauze, fluff, pads, gauze wrap...pretty much everything he could afford to dress the wound with, he did.

It was over. The first part, anyways. There was still no time to relax, or even pause to draw breath.

Grabbing a microscope slide, he took a sample of blood from Cosim's arm, and another from the scalpel he'd used on Sonya. This would not be the most accurate test ever, but... Well, but nothing. He found himself praying for a miracle.

A minute... Two... The seconds passing became agony. But finally, he heaved a sigh of relief. He didn't know exactly what their respective types were, but they were compatible.

Rinsing out a long, thin tube from his kit with the boiled water, he hooked both of their inner elbows up to it in a matter of seconds. "Try to keep your fist clenched, and don't move your arm." Cosim was a large man, so there was at least next to no chance that he'd pass out. And besides the red blood cells, he would also be transferring white blood cells and platelets to Sofia that would help cleanse her system, close up the wounds, and heal the bruises. Of course, Allen would aid in all of that, too, but still. For such a spur-of-the-moment plan, it had ended up being a little brilliant.

In the meantime, he began wiping up and sterilizing the donor site on Cosim's arm (he wouldn't be using either of his arms to their fullest extent for some time, after this). He'd broken out in a cold sweat, and he looked ready to collapse, but the gauze and bandages went on neatly. The worst was over.

What a morning.

--

That certainly took him by surprise.

He blinked a few times in total confusion, drawing the biggest blank of his life. Opposite to her, he'd never been in love (or anything close to it) before, and was thus trying his hardest to get sucked into it. Without stumbling along the way too much. But it was more difficult than he'd expected, and he too, in a sense, was afraid of being hurt or rejected.

He didn't know what to do, so for a moment, he did nothing. Then, slowly, he reached out and curled a bit of her hair behind her ear. Working with the only experience in love he'd ever really had--when he'd comforted his younger siblings--he spoke soothingly, "I'm sorry, you've been working so hard--you've done really well. Don't you know why I love being around you?"

Standing up, he kissed her forehead and murmured into her bangs, "Do you really love me, even though I'm poor, and not very smart, and not even a little important?"

--

Someone had saved her. It was a first.

It was also the first time Hanako had ever seen a woman of that height, before. She didn't even know what to make of it, initially--maybe she was losing her mind? The blonde woman was easily a foot taller than the Asian, made all the more apparent when the latter was brought back to her feet.

Can't wait? Never happened? What was she even talking about? Her mind was having trouble processing the English, and her entire frame shook like wisteria in the breeze.

Nevertheless, she straightened herself up, adjusted her obi, brushed the dirt off with a flick of a trembling wrist, made herself elegant again. But she could not make her expression demure and unruffled, as it should have been. Her black eyes, which to men contained a deep and enigmatic world, revealed to women a fear and a self-consciousness.

The man on the ground stirred slightly, and she uttered a small cry, despite herself. Automatically, she positioned herself behind the tall woman, as though she were one of her guards-slash-escorts, back in the hanamachi.
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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  DIDNEY WORL on Thu Sep 22, 2011 3:29 pm

It would be a lie to say that clenching his fist wasn't difficult-- all hs tension left him when she was finally wrapped up. The rest was all downhill, and she would wake up and be fine. He wondered how much blood she was getting-- he figured he could give enough to completely replace every ounce in her tiny body and still have enough to live off of.

"Thank you," He finally breathed, slumping in his chair and exhaling the stress. It didn't matter the state he was in, so long as she was still alive. "I don't have much money, but... I'll get you what I can." The doctor usually worked for free but... This situation deserved some kind of monetary reward.

"When is she going to be awake...?" He likely had to think of a way to explain, and then apologize, and then make an agreement to... Not get in the predicament again.

-----

And there were those words again. 'Being around you'. She let out another sob. "It's not the same...!" She didn't know why, but somehow it wasn't. Why didn't he, if he really meant it, just say 'I love you'?

Calming down as he tried to comfort her, her crying subsided into sniffling. Did she really love him over all of that? It wasn't like it could all be skimmed over. She'd tried the rich, smart, and important and none had ever been good to her. She mirrored the emotions of who she was connected to. And since she'd been with him she'd been the happiest she'd ever been. Sure, she'd felt she was happy before... But then she hadn't really known it. Or was it that with him she was happier than happy? Either way, she didn't want him to leave her. She pressed her face into his shirt and pulled at it to get him closer.

"I love you... I love all of that, too..." Her resolve was already weakened, there was no way she could stick to her plan now. She had already told him. Her hands curled into fists around the fabric of his shirt, and she mumbled desperately, "Please love me... You don't have to do anything... Just say so, that's all I want..." Hadn't she said the same thing to Auguste? And he had only said so. So how would she know to believe Itakshir? Some dark place in her mind she found herself saying that it didn't matter if he meant it or not. And it scared her. "Please..."

-------

She seemed foreign. Very foreign. "You don't understand?" She said slowly, steadying the smaller woman with a hand on her shoulder. "It's alright, you're safe." Was she a new girl? Where had she come from? "My name is Vesna."

She knew how it felt, to be scared and alone somewhere new. And to have a mammals it even worse-- though, to the small woman's credit, she had the smarts to realize she was being hurt... Not helped.

About to embrace the girl (perhaps over her own sadness than the other's), she heard the man shift around, and certainly noticed the Asian's fear. Separaing herself, she kicked the man in the stomach with good force, and, despite the burns, pulled him away by his feet and rolled him under the car. It would be a shock when he got up-- and he probably wouldn't be able to get out on his own.

Returning, she smiled gently. "He's out of sight and out of mind, honey." Taking her hand, she led her away from the scene and to a bench, where she more or less pushed on her shoulders to make her sick. She seemed like she belonged here... But where?

"What's your name?" She asked, calmly and still slowly. "Do you need more help? Where do you live...?" Surely this would set her return to the inn back for a while. She wanted to get there before he woke up. That's when men were sweetest. She didn't understand why, if she was new in the brothel and so small, why no one was escorting her. Where was Dimitrie?

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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Sat Sep 24, 2011 1:10 am

"I don't work for a profit," he declined right off the bat, as if Cosim didn't already know. It was his personal pledge that he'd taken--or technically, it was his interpretation of the Hippocratic oath. That he would 'experience the joy of healing those who seek my help'. Joy. Not monetary reward.

He wouldn't ask what had happened, or why. Respecting the patient's privacy was part of the job--and Cosim's behavior had offset whatever uneasy thoughts he might have previously had. He even smiled, just a little, as he gave her a morphine injection, "The best thanks would be to not have to come back." He loved saving people, but if would be best if they never had to be saved, at all.

Finally allowing himself to sit down for a moment, he exhaled and removed his bloodstained surgical gloves before replying. "After the transfusion's complete, we'll get her situated on a more comfortable bed, where she can rest. Then I'll wake her up."

After a few minutes, he disconnected the makeshift IV (before pushing a large glass of water on the donor--strongman or not, he needed to replace his lost fluids) and bandaged them both up, taking one last pulse and temperature check before declaring that she was ready to be moved. There was unfortunately no spare cot in the medical tent, and he didn't consider the women's car a hospitable place for recovery, but...given the options, perhaps it would be best for her to wake up in her own bed. If somewhere more private became available, they could move her later.

"I know you probably want to do it yourself, but you need to not overextend your arms for a while," he cautioned, "So I'm going to get someone else to carry her, okay?" After covering her up as much as possible in a clean sheet, he called in two stagehands, had them put her into a sheet to use as a makeshift stretcher, and deliver her to her bed. She still had to lie on her stomach, but her head was on a pillow, and facing towards the edge of the bed.

With a few more checks, the young doctor decided she was ready, and brought her back with a touch to the temples. Nodding to Cosim, he stepped out for a moment to allot them some privacy, warning before shutting the door, "She's going to be a bit out of it, for a while."

Sonya came to very slowly, and groggily. Her head was foggy, and she didn't know what was going on, but she also didn't question it. She knew her back felt heavy, but she didn't care why. She knew she'd been sick, but it was inconsequential. Rather than bliss, she was in a sort of induced obliviousness. Smiling absently, she stared vaguely into nothingness.

--

Just as when she'd pulled him to the seat, he embraced her easily when she tugged on his shirt. He was nothing if not compliant. She was clearly distressed, but if he was going to be honest, a sort of serenity mixed with euphoria had washed over him. Peace because his feelings of inadequacy were eased, excitement because of what had put them to ease.

Rubbing her back lightly, he kissed her forehead again and replied, "Shh, it's okay--let me tell you a story." He smiled into her hair. "Once, a hunter was out in the woods, and stumbled upon a mysterious, beautiful woman. He was weary; his people often told tales that warned against strange encounters. But he approached her, anyways, and she told him something: that he'd be wearing the shoes he had on when he'd fall in love. He didn't like that idea, though, so he threw the shoes out, thinking to thwart fate. But every day after that encounter, he kept thinking about the woman, until he became sick with unhappiness. Just when he thought he'd go crazy from misery, she appeared again, suddenly. And he was happy again. Her prediction came true."

Whispering into her ear, as though to reveal the secret moral of the story, he confessed, "I love you."

--

Great. Another name she couldn't pronounce.

But it seemed she had found an ally, at last. She was sat down on the bench--and though she felt like curling up into herself, she retained her posture, hands in her lap. Taking a few steadying breaths now that her attacker was out of sight, she bowed low, nose only inches away from her fingers. A quiet sign of gratitude. (Though she did wonder what honey had to do with vision and the mind.)

Upon straightening back up, she returned the introduction. "My name is Hanako Yanagi... Please treat me kindly." She murmured, listlessly, eyes lowered. Politeness became somewhat depressing when no one returned it. "I live in Ichiriki Ochaya, Gion-Kobu hanamachi, Gion district, Kyoto, Kyoto-fu, Japan," she said automatically. That was where she lived. Not here. "I was left here...and I am unsure what to do."

Had she really once lived a life where if someone had to ask how much it cost to have her serve them tea, then they couldn't afford it? Where it took generations of good family connections before a man was even allowed to look at her face? It all seemed like a distant dream.
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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  DIDNEY WORL on Sat Sep 24, 2011 11:05 am

He still felt he owed him something-- and he couldn't guarantee they wouldn't be back for something. But if he wouldn't take money, then he wouldn't offer it. He had to pay for a new dress for Sonya, most likely, unless she had another.

Patting the younger man's back (really, more like a heavy slap), he laughed, finally relieved, and warned jokingly, "With a job like this you're gonna go gray before I did."

Giving him another thank you, he caught up to the crew to make sure they wouldn't drop her. He was breaking the rules again, going into the women's car, but no one would blame him. But how would he explain her injury? How would she? As soon as she woke up, though, all his worries went away.

Pulling the covers over her, he moved her hair out of her face and off of her back, and stroked her cheek. He supposed she wouldn't understand most of what he wanted to say, so he only kissed her hair and said. "You'll feel better soon..."

He walked around her bed until he found the trunk that someone had put her name on. There wasn't much in it but some clothes... And only one dress. The white one she had came there in, which, for the life of him, he didn't understand why she hadn't gotten rid of yet.

--------------

She was about to tell him that she didn't want to be distracted by another stupid story. However, the story became too familiar to neglect. Her sobbing quieted down to sniffling by the end of it.

"You..." She could hardly even say the words. Pulling away, she wiped the black streaks that were running down her cheeks away, her lips formed into a shaking smile. "You mean it...?" Letting out a small laugh, she added, "Even if I look like this...?" But of course, a simple man like him wouldn't care about that.

She figured this would happen differently. She shouldn't have been in the state she was. Still, she couldn't help but feel the same euphoria he did. Taking his face in her hands, she kissed him, and murmured, "Say it again, for me..."

----------------

She seemed fairly over the mess, the way she was acting. Most women would be a crying heap. Or maybe she was just putting up a front. The latter seemed even sadder, to Vesna.

After she was told where the woman was from, she stood there in silence for a moment. She couldn't necessarily get someone to take her back to... Wherever that was. She looked exotic enough-- chances were she belonged to Auguste before he disappeared. (And since then, Dimitrie's 'whorehouse on wheels' idea seemed alot more plausible--)

"I... I'm not exactly sure how to help you." She admitted with a frown. "But I think I know someone who might. You'd just have to stay here a little bit longer." There was always the chance Diederik would agree to take her back to that place she couldn't really pronounce or remember.

"Do you remember how you got here?" She seemed to strange and out of place, as if she'd just shown up with no recollection of how she came.

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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Sun Sep 25, 2011 11:02 am

The 'pat' nearly knocked the wind out of Allen. He was unfortunately all brain, no muscle, these days (though he got the vague feeling that he used to be more fit). Struggling not to cough, he smiled painfully and gave a rather forced laugh. ...Though actually, he wouldn't have minded a few streaks of gray. It would have made him look older.

Having escaped the women's car with the rest of his spine intact, he returned to his tent and began preparing things for her next check-up, which would be more thorough (and more frequent, for the next week or so...rather, for the next nine months or so, but he didn't know this, just yet). Not to mention, he had to clean up the remains of the surgery--which were looking like the scene of a very gruesome torture session or autopsy. Foot tapping rapidly as he began washing things, he lit up a cigarette to alleviate the stress and caught a glance at his frazzled-looking reflection in the silver tray he'd laid his instruments on. Maybe he really was too young for this...

And if he thought so now, he would really think he was getting in over his head, here, soon.

Sonya smiled blearily at her beloved, wondering what he meant by that. ...Where was she, right now? Hadn't something just happened? She racked her brain, but it was like sifting through sand in the middle of the desert, trying to find something that had been buried long ago. She knew there was a reason why she'd been sick--vaguely, she remembered throwing up, and feeling like her skin was too hot, all over. Smoke, loud noises, the world ending, exploding, crashing all around her...and a fire that didn't go out. Was that when she'd lost consciousness?

It didn't occur to her that she was confusing the history of her own life. And only one thing really stuck out in her mind. "Cosim," she said dreamily, still smiling, "Cosim, why...why is it so dark in here? Is it night? I can't see anything..."

--

He laughed, "Even if you look like what? The most beautiful woman in the world?" Pretending to think about it, he tilted his head slightly, "Yeah, I think so." He didn't see her for the makeup that was now being washed away, or the fancy clothes, or the jewelry--they enhanced her, but they didn't encompass her beauty. That was purely inherent.

Kissing her back, he obliged her request, "I love you." It felt strange in his mouth, but not bad. He figured he should, and would, get used to saying it.

Moving his hands to her cinched waist, he kissed her again, with more feeling. If he'd kissed like a starving person before, he was now like a man who'd finally gotten a taste of satiety, and wanted more. Much, much more.

--

"I'm a little unsure if I can be helped, anymore," she noted cryptically, with next to no indication of what she meant. Hanging herself...jumping off of something...fatally stabbing herself... These were not dishonorable ways to die. If things truly could not be helped, then it was perhaps more graceful to quietly succumb, rather than attempt to audaciously fight fate.

But then there was an offer of hope. And a question.

Her expression did not change, but her hands twitched ever so lightly in her lap, and her tone grew ever more distant, "I arrived some short time ago, on a Dutch ship. And I was sold to this place, by it's captain." There was something left to be desired, in the way she ended her sentence. She forgot to mention how much she loathed the man, how he was a complete monster, how he'd dealt her such an injustice. It could have been rude to say as much.

And he could bet she'd been dreaming night and day of how to extract revenge on the him, should their paths ever cross again. Never before had she looked into a man's eyes for more than a handful of minutes at a time. She wanted to stare so penetratingly into his soul (or lack, thereof), and for so long, that it dragged him too deeply into the ukiyo to ever return. So that he'd be trapped in her world forever, and would know what it was like.
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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  DIDNEY WORL on Sun Sep 25, 2011 6:59 pm

What was she saying? Frowning, he went back to her side, making sure she didn't have a temperature again. Nothing. What was he supposed to tell her? The whole story would be too long for her present state, and... Well how much could she process if she didn't even remember she was blind?

"Sonya," He began carefully, grasping her hand. "You just got back from the doctor... You hurt your back, I'll explain later. It was in your special car, remember...?" With some trepidation, he added, stroking her cheek again lightly, "You're blind... You can't see..."

How had it even come up? "I know it's confusing. It's because of the medicine, everything'll be fine later..."

---------------

She sniffed (the last of them) and giggled lightly. "You're stupid..." But if he didn't realize it, then she wouldn't push it. Not as long as he kept saying that, anyways.

Taking the kiss with the same fervor, she vaguely realized that even in the same situation with any other man, it was just going through the motions. And the same thing after that, and after that. But this felt new, exciting, even.

Smiling into his lips, she curled her fingers in his hair, but was blocked by his headband. With a muffled noise and a frown, she pulled it over his head pulled him closer. "Tell me again... So I won't forget..." She murmured into his lips.

-----------

"Of course you can be helped." She comforted, taking a seat next to the shorter woman. "I used to be just like you, and now..." Maybe she wasn't the best example. "I was helped, too!" She couldn't decide if she should introduce the woman to Dimitrie or not. He likely had too much on his plate as it stood, anyways. It seemed she didn't know what to do.

Or did she? Dutch ship? Captain? Granted, it took a moment for her to put two and two together, but when she did the solution was clear. "Dutch captain?" A grin burst on her face. "His name is Diederik, I--" How was she supposed to explain whatever it was they had? When in doubt, tell the truth. "He slept with me and now I live with him."

If her meeting with her sister and what happened to Piter taught her anything, it was to be careful around people who said they knew him-- one could never tell what they thought. "I'm sure he would take you back, if you asked." She didn't see it, how people thought he was some sort of horrible person. She was afraid, however, that she might hear something that wouldn't let her be close with him again.

"He's a good person... People and their jobs are two different things." She'd long been saying that about herself, and she was sure it translated to Diederik, too.

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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Mon Sep 26, 2011 11:54 am

She nodded along with him. Of course, that's right, it all made sense. It all few over her head.

But then she stopped, and paused for a moment. It was difficult to tell how well she was processing what she'd been told. The blackness was not a result of bad lighting, or a lack of sun? It was permanent? Difficult as it was to wrap her dazed mind around this concept--this concept of never seeing light or color again, and yet knowing that she had not seen light or color for some time, now--the permanence of it was what struck her.

Weeping gently, she murmured, "Why am I blind, Cosim? I don't want to be blind..."

And then, mind jumping to and gripping onto another vague notion from somewhere in the depths of her subconscious, she asked, "Where is she...my sister..." Her head nodded slightly to one direction, as if she were trying to turn it to see, but either didn't have the strength or the coordination. "Where's Lidiya?"

--

He grinned, "I know."

Plunging himself deeper into the kiss, testing how far he could go, he was just barely able to mumble between breaths, "I love you..." He rested his hands on her hips, holding her against him, fingers playing with the fabric of her dress anxiously. Eyes peeking open, he wanted to see her expression, to judge if she was willing to--

"GAH!" He yelped, jumping slightly in surprise.

When-- How-- It must have been because he'd been so preoccupied, but he hadn't even sensed the other man (Piter, was it?) walk right in. Right up behind Franze. Leaning over her (it was easy, with the height difference), staring at Itakshir. The look on his face said a lot of things, and none of them were very friendly.

"Oh, so sorry to interrupt," he said dryly, as though he'd just then stepped inside, and hadn't been standing there for...God knew how long, "Don't mind me, I was merely looking for something in my suitcase..." Marching over to said suitcase, he opened it, pulled out his 'favorite' book and a stubby pencil, and proceeded to march right back out of the tent again. "Carry on."

He left the Ainu in a state of temporary shock, and it took a shake of the head and a few shaky breaths to rid himself of the unsettling feeling that had suddenly come over him. Still slightly bewildered, though, he looked back to Franze to get any clues whether to continue or not.

--

At first, she was drawing some faith from the towering woman's warm promises of salvation... But at her next words, like the crack of a whip, the geisha snapped back into her highly-polished outer shell. Standing up, slowly, head held high, drawing her hands lightly to her elbows as though she were wearing a shawl, she took a few floating steps around the Ukrainian. Her expression had become one of proud disdain.

"Is that so? That is truly a lovely story...I am quite touched to hear that Van Aemstel-san is capable of such kindness," she said silkily--the same voice she used with men... But with women, it was certainly not for seduction. Giving a sidelong glance to Vesna, she looked her up and down, before taking another few steps, her back towards her. "I wonder if it's possible you might know who else he has shared a bed with--for surely you must guess there have been others."

She tapped a single finger to her chin, once, in thought, "How many years did I have... Ah... If my memory was correct, I was certainly no older than thirteen years, when I met Van Aemstel-san. He was...I would like to say, inbetween two and three decades."

The day was permanently ingrained into her memory, and as she turned to face Vesna, there was a bitterness in her recounting of it, "Thirteen--I'm sure you can imagine how small I was, at the time. He was still the height he is today, of course, but I had just barely begun to grow into a womanly body." She'd been a tiny girl, stunted even further by years of hard labor and scanty meals, and subsequent grueling training to be a maiko. It'd been a woman's world, and a harsh one. Having been sold at an age too young to even recall her parent's faces (or had she blocked them out?), she had never in her life been embraced, or kissed, or even comforted. There had been a lot of beatings, a lot of punishments, a lot of scoldings for not doing things perfectly. Prior to her mizuage, had she ever been touched tenderly? She wasn't sure.

And then suddenly, this gigantic stranger was allowed to push himself onto her, in a way she was unfamiliar with. To touch her in ways she'd not been touched before. It was more frightening and painful than any corporal punishment.

Her volume rose slightly, as her pitch trembled with blatant sarcasm, covered with the thinnest of veils of polite speech, "But I must say I am grateful to that person, because he helped me to lose the last piece of my girlhood ever so quickly! What does it matter that he practically tore me apart, that I thought I would bleed to death? He turned me into a woman, did he not? And the money he threw to me for it afterward funded my career, did it not? I suppose it wasn't enough, however, as he felt the need to trick me into coming to this country in promise of a better life--so he could get his money back by selling me, I assume! What a 'good' person, indeed! A truly wonderful man!"

Taking a few moments to control her breathing, she spat, "You are correct that a job and a person are different things. His job, however evil, is a better thing than he."
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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  DIDNEY WORL on Mon Sep 26, 2011 3:45 pm

To get closer to her, he had to kneel on the floor in front of her bed. Clearly there had to be something done about whatever was going on in her head.

Taking her hand, he coached softly, "I don't know why... But it doesn't matter, remember...?" She held her fingers on the bridge of his nose and then lightly brought them to the rest of his features. "You can see just fine with your hands... Remember, my nose broke there, there, and there...? My eyes have three lines..." He kissed her palm. "You remember... Don't cry..." He wondered if this was how she felt all the time, but never told him. It made his heart ache to think of.

Lidiya-- he knew he heard that name from somewhere, but it wasn't in waking life. He remembered it vaguely in his dreams of that massive structure, with that little woman inside it and... A smaller girl? He was silent for a while, before tucking the sheets tighter to her. "You'll find her in your dreams, if you sleep..." She needed it, anyways.

---------------------

Piter was in the absolute back of her mind at the moment... Unfortunately he was also at the literal back of her. She didn't realize it until Itakshir had been staring for several seconds. Following his line of sight, she didn't say anything, only stiffened when she met those lifeless eyes.

And she followed them with her irritated gaze until he finally left. Since she didn't see that he'd been there, most likely long before she'd seen him, she only smiled apologetically at Itakshir, once again making an excuse for her Russian companion. "He doesn't know when to stay away... He doesn't like things like this anyway, so don't worry." Again she pulled him closer, this time with her legs around his waist, saying before kissing him again, "So we're in love... And alone."

-----------------------

"I don't know... It doesn't matter to me." She mumbled, guarded and not understanding why she had changed so much. She knew that look of disdain from other women before. She knew she didn't like it.

As her story progressed, Vesna found herself even more confused-- though, not about the facts. For the first time, she was afraid that she couldn't convince herself of his goodness. She wanted to, sure. But she was as stubborn about hating men who did such things. But she mentioned paying for her? Then Vesna's woes were solved.

"I'm sorry it had to happen that way." She nodded somberly. "But if you work in a brothel at that age then you should expect a certain amount of trouble." As convicted as she tried to make herself seem, her voice still wavered with a measure of disgust she wouldn't allow to be let out.

She was easily a foot taller than Hanako-- she could always be threatened, or dragged to Diederik to hear the answer she wanted. "He's a sailor. There are no women on ships, you know. Men have needs." A poor excuse, but she was trying to convince herself more than the other.

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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  nahn-SEK-wuh-tuhr on Mon Sep 26, 2011 6:42 pm

She nodded again, remembering vaguely, and forgetting again, and slipping back into complacency, and was then perturbed again.

"Cosim..." She mumbled, eyes closed, "I can't see..."

He was saved from having to explain again, however, for it was at that moment that Allen knocked at the door, before peeking inside. The faint smell of cigarette smoke clung to him, but he otherwise looked a little less stressed. With him was his medical kit.

"Sorry," he let himself in, "I need to do a check up." It would be happening frequently--they could expect to not be getting much privacy, for a while.

Giving her a thermometer first, he asked, "How are you feeling, Miss Rostislavivna?" She mumbled something that sounded like 'fine', as he checked her pulse, and listened to her breathing and heartbeat, via stethoscope. Everything was looking normal, and her temperature was back down. He'd have to administer another dose of morphine in half an hour, but everything was otherwise going well, for such a hasty operation. He did want to do a little check on her bloodstream, though, for which he placed a few fingers on her side--where he could be closest to her back without actually touching it.

It took a minute or two--in which time, she fell asleep again--to meticulously check her entire system, but to his great relief, it was starting to get cleaned up. It would be a while until she was relatively germ-free again, but in the meantime, she was getting there--

Then, something wasn't right. Forehead creasing as he detected something...off, he took a closer inward look...

And blurted out in shock, "She's pregnant...!" He clasped a hand to his mouth, as if to hold it in, but it was too late. The secret was out as soon as it'd been discovered.

--

Itakshir didn't understand what she meant when she explained that the frightening man didn't 'like' things like that--that wasn't possible, was it...? To not like-- But her leg was around him, and he quickly let go of whatever confusing thoughts were bothering him.

Moving to her neck, he kissed her feverishly around the dainty little pearls strung in circles on her neck--so much more lovely than the one he'd lost a tooth over. That now one-tooth-less grin, now not so goofy-looking, revealed itself again, to her collar.

"You're mine now," he (half-)joked, "So I'm not going to hold back, anymore, you know--"

Carrying her, one hand to her back and the other holding her thigh securely to him, he set her down in one of the nearby piles of fresh hay. (Probably meant for the show...but just for today, he would be commandeering it for his own purposes.) Lips moving back to meet hers, he began undoing the belt around her waist, with nimble fingers. The second it was gone, they went up her dress, up her legs, caressing her.

Perhaps it was because it'd been a while, but it felt different, this time. Because he actually cared about the woman he was sharing such an intimate moment with? Because he loved her?

--

Piter hated that man. Loathed him. Detested him. Abhorred him.

He didn't stick around to see what would happen, after he'd exited the tent--of course, it would have been all too easy to loiter around the entrance and sneak peaks inside, if he'd wanted. But it'd been hard enough to stomach what he had seen. (He didn't know that such a thing could be counted as voyeurism--it seemed ludicrous that anyone would actually enjoy having to watch that.) That level of physical touching was repulsing. He would have turned away the moment he first caught a glance of them, but an idea he'd come up with on his little walk had convinced him to just take a look.

And of course, what he had seen had made him feel even more strongly inclined to terrorize that stupid little man. Now, he wasn't so sure of this idea, but...it was a good plan, if he was capable of pulling it off.

Jotting some notes down in the blank-paged, red hardcover book he tended to carry around (hence being thought of as his 'favorite', by those who didn't know it's contents), he sat down on a crate, which had a large mirror propped up next to it. It was badly cracked and likely to be thrown out, but it was still good for just looking at the face, rather than the whole body. This was what he used it for.

He tried purposely smiling. A nice, 'genuine' smile.



...No, far too difficult. Perhaps something easier. Frowning was easy. Looking angry was not that hard, even if he wasn't feeling particularly enraged. Those, he could do--but it wasn't what he needed. He tried to think of something 'sad'. He'd read things that were supposed to be 'sad', but they didn't particularly strike him as upsetting, one way or the other. What was 'sad', to him? He thought of his piano being smashed or misused by those Mistique flunkies. It only made him angry. He prodded the bruises in his neck, hard, and observed his eyes.

Yes, they were watering up, but not for the right reason. There had to be some sort of trick to this crying business, and he was going to replicate it, no matter how much practice it took. It was all part of the plan.

--

If she'd been tall enough to reach, she would have slapped the woman across the face as hard as she could.

"I am not and never was involved in that business," she replied coldly, trembling with anger, "I am a geisha, a performing artist. I endured many hardships to be this, so please do not call me anything else. The reason he gave me the money is because it is part of the ceremony--I do not expect a foreigner to understand."

Outsiders were all the same: ignorant, close-minded, quick to assume and slow to consider their words before speaking. Some might seem friendly, like this girl, but it was easy to offend while still being kind. Perhaps it was even worse when they were kind.

"There are any number of prostitutes and poor, nameless women in Japan, the same as this country," she snapped at the cover-up, "He could have had any girl--but he knew he could get a high price for me, and revenge for 'taking' his money. As if my deflowering wasn't worth it--" Her voice cracked slightly, at this point. She was a proud woman, and it was certainly not easy to think that someone would try to get their money back for the most precious gift she could give--even if it was just because he was a cheap bastard. Sure, he might argue that she had 'hypnotized' him into doing it and that he'd been tricked out of his money, but she'd only been thirteen, and didn't understand what she was doing. Or what she was in for.

She'd just wanted to look into his eyes, even though it was forbidden by etiquette. She wanted to see if they were really green. She'd never met a foreigner, before then--needless to say, the encounter left the impression she bore to that day.

"Thank you for saving me from that man," she said dryly, nodding her head towards the scene where she'd been attacked. Her tone implied she was intending to take her leave, rather than be subjected to more lukewarm defenses of the person she hated most in the world, "But if you think it such a normal thing, for men to act on their needs, then perhaps you should have let me be."
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Re: Judgement Day [Vesna\Private]

Post  DIDNEY WORL on Mon Sep 26, 2011 8:55 pm

Cosim audibly breathed a sigh of relief when he was interrupted. But did this kid ever sleep? And did he smell smoke? He would have mentioned how bad it was, but then again, he was a doctor, he would know. ...And he didn't want to be left alone to take care of Sonya where his knowledge had clearly been lacking.

Suddenly he began to doubt this 'doctor', though.

The color drained from his face. At first he laughed-- of course, because he'd never heard anything so preposterous in his life. But Allen wasn't laughing. His eyes went from him, to Sonya, as if she had somehow betrayed him (really, she was least at fault, even out of the both of them-- the man who'd done it and the man who'd admitted to detecting it--). "What...?!" His voice had an uncommonly high timbre. "No-- that's not..." He wanted to refute it but... he didn't really know how it all even worked. Which most likely meant he hadn't done something he should have. "A-are you sure?!" He looked down at Sonya, blissfully unaware of the news (or anything, at the moment), and tried to keep his shouting down to raspy whispers. "Does she know?! Did she tell you?!"

Jumping up, he began pacing around the car, half in the dark, tripping over this and that, but hardly noticing. "Oh, god... OH, GOD... What am I supposed to do?!" Grabbing Allen by the shoulders, he lightly (to him, at least) shook him. "You're a doctor, tell me what to do!!!"

---------------------

He had effectively prevented her from being able to protest not being in a bed, so wrapped up she was in making sure she didn't faint in her corset from the gasps she was trying to control. It wasn't working so well-- yet, she hardly took it off for anything. Did that make this another kind of special?

Letting out a breathless giggle when his hands snuck up her dress, she barely could respond with a, "Why are you warning me...? Should I be worried?" as she undid the buttons on his shirt, tracing the black tattoo lines with her fingers. Maybe she should have-- this was the first time she hadn't a clue what to expect (although, ultimately of course she knew the end result--).

Pulling away from his kisses for one small, minuscule moment that somehow meant so much to her, she held his face in her hands, and smiled as if they both knew a secret that no one else had a clue of. "Where in the world did you come from...?" She whispered sweetly before her words were silenced by another kiss. It was a question she had been asking herself-- not literally, of course; she was confused by that even more-- figuratively. Of all the men, in all the world, how was it him who happened to be swimming in a river while she was seriously thinking about her choices-- she still remembered his words: people should only be where they're happiest-- or how it was him who had waited for her, and wiped away her tears, and taken her in? It seemed unreal that she'd gotten such a second chance.

-------------

If this woman wanted to be believed, she really was making a hard time for herself. Vesna only scoffed. "We're all performing artists, honey. Before it all burned down, I had about nine different costumes in my closet. And I 'performed' in all of them." It was insulting to be seen as lower by someone who seemed to figuratively spit on everything she currently held dear.

"But if you think it such a normal thing, for men to act on their needs, then perhaps you should have let me be."

Vesna sucked in a breath. That was it. That was all she could take about this. She would make her see.

Grabbing the much smaller woman by the upper arm (it seemed no one would miss her if she was gone for a bit), she began to march out of the carnival and onto the road.

"You know, I was going to pity you," She muttered through clenched teeth-- she couldn't keep composed when angry. "Because I saw myself in what you were saying, I really did. But there's no room here for you pompous... pompous poviya!"

Dragging her along, she finally made it to the inn, and pulled her down the hallway. "Wait here." She muttered darkly. "Or you won't get far." Remembering to pull out the key, she unlocked the door and closed it behind her, pausing to breathe and collect herself. She wasn't sure what she was feeling then. Anger, yes. Pity? Well, still a little bit, yes. Some kind of sentimental depression? Mostly.

"Diederik...?"

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