sticksandbones | reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated

[A line of ravenous flowers leads in from the forest, nipping at something on the ground. The odd behavior is explained as one approaches the inn—a trail of freshly spattered blood, starkly red against the grass and dirt, remains in the places where the flowers haven't reached.

Perhaps you don't see the blood first. It's late in the evening when the door creaks open. Two sets of footsteps, wood clacking on wood and someone trying and failing to move quietly. Muffled voices, soft electronic beeps. Another door is opened and shut with care.

... but despite his best efforts, the trail of blood and dirty footprints leads straight to Add's room.

Someone rummages within, still faintly muttering under his breath.]

[Elsword sees blood, and as Elsword does, he thinks: Someone is in danger. Someone was hurt by the flowers, and I should go check on them. It's a pattern he's repeated since he was a child. Someone is hurt. I can help. I'll go help. No matter how emotionally-removed he is from any situation nowadays, that part of him has never changed. One would doubt it could.

He follows the footprints, the blood splatters, all the way up to Add's room. To the hallway, where they were once neighbours, where the last time he saw Add was a goodnight given from outside this very door. Elsword has done a good job of telling the other people in the Grove to stay out of this room — it's not yours, don't enter it, someone important to me was there once, he might have left something behind. Elsword has not checked to see if that was the case, but he assumed so. To see someone now using this room?

Well. He wouldn't describe himself as easy to piss off, but there's a stirring from behind the cobwebs in his cerebral cortex. A spark, a flicker of electricity, and Elsword whips the door open with the resolve of a man who might just kill someone if he finds anything destroyed.]

Get out. This room doesn't belong to—

[—you. The word dies on his lips the moment he breathes out the first syllable, and Elsword lingers in the doorway with his hand on the knob, something horrendously afflicted in those usually-flat red eyes.]

Add...?

[There's no way. The forest has to be fucking with him now; even so, Elsword surges forth, fleeting anger forgotten in lieu of several things he can't identify. He knows better than to just touch Add — the good doctor had never liked random hugs, something Elsword's fractured memory had retained as a general fact about him through the years — but he can't help but fall into his arms anyway. Add is getting a bear hug, nevermind the blood that will inevitably end up all over Elsword's clothing.]

Add— what happened?! Where did you— why are you—?

[His coat is ripped and stained with dirt, blood down his sleeves, sticks and leaves and white flower petals tangled in his loosened braid of hair... but he's here, he's alive. The sudden shouting is enough to make Add jump in his skin, half-turning with a bloodied hand still pressed to his pale face before he's trapped in a hug.]

Elsword—! [the barest hint of panic in his voice. He tries to push away, wiggling uselessly in Elsword's arms.] Calm down! Everything's fine, you can let go of me—

[it's not a very convincing show. embarrassing. he should be better than this, he sounds so pathetic, it won't work on—

wait... Elsword has to calm down?]

... Elsword?

[His struggles cease. Quietly, cautiously, craning his neck to try and see Elsword's face... but he can't see from this angle. There's too much blood in his eye.] Elsword, are you...

[are you alright?]

[Elsword doesn't respond to that. Is he alright? He doesn't know; he hasn't been alright for months now, months that feel like mere days that feel like months all over again. No, Add will not be able to escape the bear hug, because Elsword doesn't intend to let the man out of his life again so easily. This could be a dream, a hallucination, anything else; the longer Elsword clings, the more he feels like things are finally settling. Like something is real, here.

There's a dam about to burst behind his eyes, and when he finally relaxes his grip, it's only so that he can cradle Add's face in his palm and really look at him through the gloom. The low light is offset by the subtle glow of his halo, enough to see something.]

You're hurt, [he murmurs,] let me see. Let me take care of you.

[Those words were one of the last things Elsword got to say to him before he disappeared. Unlike with most things that he doesn't have near-constant reminders of, that memory hasn't left him, even when Add's face was slipping out of his consciousness. Were it not for Felicity and Caoimhe, he might've asked Add who he is. What he thinks he's doing here, standing in the old room of someone important to him.

He supposes that he owes them thanks when tonight is over.]

[Being able to breathe again is a relief (why is Elsword so strong), but when he reaches for Add's face... there's a lot of blood streaming down his right side, soaking through the hair that's still sandwiched between his face and hand, sticking to his palm when his grip on himself wavers. When Add stares back, the mask is down—wide-eyed with a naked emotion he dare not name, a thousand dizzy thoughts spinning in his head.

(he wants to gather the tears building in Elsword's eyes and put them under a microscope, who put those there, he hasn't come close to this in years)

He flinches a second later, turning his injured face away—trying to, even if it means leaning further into Elsword's hold. He struggles to regain composure, fighting a losing battle against himself... he has to settle on a sour look, like the first time he bit into a demon lemon.]

... alright. That's fine. [he can accept help. it's easier if he does, sometimes... but he still feels the need to explain,] It's not as bad as it looks. Only about a liter of blood loss, so I'll be fine, really.

[you know, aside from the roughly gouged hole where his right eye used to be. it'll still take some prying to free his hand from covering it up.]

[A fucking litre— Elsword isn't sure if he should reprimand or just bite his tongue and take the comment in stride. "It's not that bad. It's a litre of blood loss."]

That's always what you say, [he settles on, crossly at that, as he backs Add up to sit down. Likely on the bed, that seems to be within reach.] "It's not that bad." Move your hand.

[Even if Add doesn't, which it seems like he won't, Elsword will pry that hand away thank you. And...

...

He flinches, exhaling a sharp "ah" sound. That's probably one of the worst injuries he's seen where friends are concerned. Yet again, Elsword has to bite his tongue. "Don't hide your symptoms from me," something Add had said months ago during their last conversation, and here he is trying to hide the fact that he's missing a damn eye.

They can talk about it later. Elsword blinks the tears out of his eyes, says "hold on", and then dips for a minute. When he comes back, he's holding a wet cloth in his hand, and he gently begins cleaning Add up. Only one of them is the medical professional here; Elsword doesn't know how to begin dressing a wound this awful, so close to the brain, but he can at least heal any open wounds and clean off what he can.]

[He wilts at those words, starting to feel a little guilty. Of course, he can treat his own injuries just fine. He'd be okay even if Elsword never found out... but he knows, now, so there's no point in arguing. He allows himself to be pushed gently onto the bed, his resistance minimal when the hand needs to be pried free.

...

it's not a good reaction, he thinks. he tries to think less on it.

... he came in here for fresh bandages, so despite the implied "stay put", he's up and rummaging again the moment Elsword steps out. Also, where is Nene? He is checking on Nene. He's assigning a dynamo to keep track of her... she can sit in the corner and hold the extra bandages for him if she wants. Sorry his not-boyfriend is ignoring you, introductions might have to wait a little longer.

When Elsword returns, Add is sitting again but with more supplies out... well, Elsword has two functional eyes for this, so Add decides to work with what he has. Add can be the brains, Elsword can be the hands. They have a clean cloth, bandages, some spare drugs and painkillers...]

Follow my instructions. We'll start with cleaning the injury, you should know that much on your own. [soft, steady, calm. he can do this. and if he flinches at contact with the open wound, he's trying his best to hold it in. sudden movements will only risk making it worse.]

[Doing this with some light is a good idea, and not just the soft glow of his halo. A real light. Which means the lights are being turned on, and yet Elsword still does not notice Nene, wherever she's hidden. Sorry, he's in full-blown crisis mode, he doesn't have time to notice anything else.

Elsword shuts up and does as instructed while they work on this together. It's helpful, to have the extra guidance, because otherwise he truly would've just washed it, healed what he could, bandaged it up, and left it. There's not much of a point to bandaging a healed-over hole in Add's skull save for keeping an infection out of the socket proper, but that's what they'll wind up doing. It helps with making him a little less scary to look at, if anyone else were to see him in this state.

When all is said and done, Elsword sits on the bed next to Add, resting his elbows on his thighs, letting his hands drop between parted knees. They're bloody, smeared and dried and needing badly to be washed just like everything else in this room. This is not the first nor the last time Elsword will be covered in blood in his life, so the cleanup falls low on the priority tree for him.

No, he wants to talk instead, and talking has never been Elsword's strong suit. Even when he had a full range of emotions, he always blurted out the first thing that came to mind, so why is he hesitating now? Where does he begin with this?]

...I'm sorry, [is what he says to break the minute-long silence,] if I'd known that leaving you that night would've had this ending for you, I wouldn't have left at all.

[Damn right they're bandaging it up. Despite his initial aversions, as soon as they've decided on teamwork he's giving his all to this operation. A thorough cleaning, disinfecting, application of medicine, multiple layers of bandages, preparing more bandages for later...

He relaxes, just a little, as they make their progress. Work like this calms him down. It's not as effective when he's the patient, but if he separates his mind from the situation... just a little dissociation is fine, probably. He's a great doctor. His student is doing well. Too bad about that patient, though.

Eventually, it's over. He stares at Elsword, slouched over on the bed next to him... he feels hollow, drained. The mask has long since been discarded, but his face reveals nothing. He searches for answers in Elsword's tired face, half blotted out by his blind spot.

Good work is what he should say. Thank you for your help. Something, anything...

Elsword speaks before he can make up his mind. A nonsense apology—no, no, that can't be right. Add furrows his brow, his tone patient but firm.]

What does that have to do with it? This isn't your fault, Elsword. You can't be expected to monitor my every move.

[but if that's true, then whose fault is it?

he glances away, the beginnings of guilt trickling back in. he wrings his hands in his lap.]

... I made a miscalculation. It's my error, not yours.

pardon the mess [closed]

👁️ 👄 👁️ also 1/2

2/2

no subject

no subject

cw: sorry if you don't like eye stuff, don't look in here

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

visiting hours are now [open]

Re: visiting hours are now [open]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

OK BUT THE CORRECT WAY THIS TIME

no subject

no subject

no subject

kawaii.....

no subject

no subject