Chimera -> Quoting a Post in sweeter than heaven, hotter than hell

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Foras Rosier	Posted on Jan 15 2012, 11:33 AM
	There was a dull but severe sort of pain from having the bandage placed on top of the wound, which he should really have anticipated, but flinched slightly from nonetheless; no matter how light the touch, it still irritated the less charred flesh. Digging his nails into his right palm in a gesture that was as masochistic as it was to prevent him from flinching too much, he found himself concentrating on the surprise that John himself had laid the bandage on his arm. It, like so many other things that had happened recently, really shouldn't have been so shocking, and yet it was; he tried not to be struck, yet again, by how charitable John really was. "Thank you," he managed, a moment later, after ungritting his teeth and taking a slight breath. Glancing towards the door himself, following John's gaze, he was silent for a moment, not quite wanting to be left alone, but also not wanting to say as much. "Whenever you want," he murmured, non-committally.
John Homme	Posted on Oct 5 2011, 12:34 PM
	"Oh," he said, surprised, uncomfortable with his absentmindedness as he finally let go of his hand. Feeling a little stupid and rubbing hard at his face as he opened the cabinet over his toilet. It was a long moment of looking around before he spotted the box he needed, and when he did, he realized it was probably a bit out of reach. Stepping up onto the seat for a moment, he had the box soon enough, one his brothers had left behind for him, full of Muggle medicines and treatments; it obviously didn't see much use, and was kept in what used to be a tackle box. Unlatching it, he opened it with clumsy but quick fingers, retrieving a bit of gauze and shutting the box afterward, he ran the tap with cool water for a moment or two before wetting the gauze. "Here," he murmured as he wrung it out a bit, holding out a free hand to touch the back of his left hand. Very gently and very carefully, with all the care that John normally handled others with, he laid the damp gauze across the burn without putting any undue pressure on it. "I should get that stuff soon," he said, sounding almost like he was speaking to himself, glancing toward the doorway as he wondered how long it would take him to get home.
Foras Rosier	Posted on Oct 5 2011, 11:44 AM
	"Sorry," he muttered, almost automatically, directing his eyes back to the wound and wondering absently whether it would ever look remotely normal again. Realising he should bandage it or something, maybe make some vague attempt to protect it from sight (for it was offence he worried about more than infection), he resolved to either ask or attempt the charm himself, as soon as the fear of his own wand had worn off. The fact he'd survived the night, he thought, was only encouraging; that meant that they definitely didn't know where he'd gone. Shaking his head just as automatically at the thanks, barely hearing him, he suddenly noticed he was still holding John's hand and was immediately caught in a dilemma as he tried to decide whether or not to take it back. Ultimately, he thought it was John's decision; rather than step away, he moved slightly, hesitantly closer. Looking at the wound again and thinking it really was rather gross, he covered it with a palm, feeling pain only in the outer rings and nothing at all at the centre - that was probably a bad sign. "I -- don't suppose you have a bandage?" He asked, quietly.
John Homme	Posted on Oct 5 2011, 04:23 AM
	Glancing away as Foras looked at him, even less keen on the idea of eye-contact than usual, he nodded. Almost ending up just inclining his head, which was a terribly serious sort of gesture for John, he remained mostly quiet. This first thing he managed to say was, perhaps predictably, a quiet, gentle protest to his scratching at his arm; just seeing him do it made John tense, and he almost flinched. "Don't. Be careful," he murmured, and then went quiet again. The question did catch him off guard a bit, and John was silent for a long moment as he gave it some thought -- he ended up a little uncomfortable, unable to come up with anything to ask for. "I can't think of anything," he admitted, scratching his head with his free hand and still not letting go of Foras's entirely with his other. "Thank you for, umm, offering."
Foras Rosier	Posted on Oct 5 2011, 04:07 AM
	Oh - of course. The thought of soothing the wound hadn't actually occurred to him, preoccupied as he'd been, and he felt a dull heat to his cheeks slowly rise. Rubbing his face harder for a second or two, he dropped his arm and took a breath. For all his embarrassment and general shame, he couldn't help but feel slightly heartened by the almost-normal speech pattern John was getting back to; he made a herculean effort to try to pull himself together, but only succeeded in standing straighter and opening his eyes properly again. "Oh," he answered, almost softly, glancing up at him again. "Thank you," he continued, faintly impressed and humbled by John's kindness, even now. Itching absently at the crook of his arm in a distinctly painful way, he withdrew his nails as the skin peeled back, unwilling to make it any worse now it seemed that he'd survive for at least another night. Face softening away from his dull frown, he felt an absurd and slightly obvious swell of affection for the other; it was powerful, like his body had suddenly realised that, yes, it did love him. Wanting to repay him for everything he'd done - already - he unconsciously neatened his own hair again. "Is-- is there anything I can help with?" He asked, perhaps jarringly, but desperately wanting to prove his worth.
John Homme	Posted on Oct 5 2011, 12:45 AM
	Raising his eyebrows, a bit like a deer in the headlights for this correction, John felt a swell of embarrassment. "I meant," he said, not withdrawing his hand but suddenly, awkwardly loosening his grip a bit. "I meant the, uh," he said, characteristically mouthing uselessly as the word escaped him. "The burn paste -- for, um, not healing. The orange kind," he said slowly, trying to work out the word he was looking for. As was usual when he forgot words, he was becoming increasingly nervous with the conversation, irrationally so -- it was only remembering the word that had his shoulders easing out of their rigid hunch. "Soothing," he managed, rubbing his eyebrow with a free hand. "Sorry," he said, and then felt uncomfortable with the normal (well, for him, anyway) cadence his speech had suddenly taken on again.
Foras Rosier	Posted on Oct 5 2011, 12:28 AM
	Shaking his head slightly, Foras turned his arm away again as soon as he felt it wouldn't be rude, bringing the hand up to rub at his brow ridge and resisting the urge to sigh. "It has to heal on its own," he replied, absently, knowing that all but the strongest remedies would be rejected by the ridiculously strong curse he'd cast upon himself. It was as much a slight act of attrition as it was a necessity; though he knew there had been nothing else to be done, he thought it possibly a good thing that he'd had to mutilate himself in order to leave. At least it precluded the possibility, however faint, that he'd be able to give up this foolish jaunt and return.
John Homme	Posted on Oct 5 2011, 12:17 AM
	It was harder to look at than John had even anticipated, and he flinched openly. It made his stomach churn in the same way that all injuries did, and there was another layer to it -- that of concern and disgust -- that only kept his expression even more blanched than it might have otherwise been. He returned the squeeze to his hand distractedly, though he guessed the reason for it incorrectly, not allowing himself to look away. "Foras," he said softly, willing away the tears in his eyes and releasing a sigh meant to keep him level and calm. Though many things died on his lips before he could get them out, he finally did speak -- and when he did, in a manner that displayed the nurturing quality to John, he was almost pragmatic. "I'm going to pick up some paste for that today," he said distractedly, finally tearing his eyes away in order to return them upward.
Foras Rosier	Posted on Oct 4 2011, 11:49 PM
	Surprised again by the contact and swallowing himself, having hardly expected acceptance or forgiveness or whatever this was, he tightened his grip slightly, glad it had been his right hand and not his left. He drew some comfort, however small, out of the gesture, and found that breathing came easier now, feeling less like a knot had been tied in his lungs; John's naivety didn't surprise him, as such, but it comforted him in a sick sort of way that he didn't want to examine too closely. The request to see his arm surprised him in an altogether nastier way, having forgotten the dull ache in it until this point, and he very nearly flinched back and refused completely. It wasn't a pretty sight, to be sure, and the implication of what had been there before a third degree magical burn was even worse. Still, he forced himself not to react like that - he had already mentally promised himself that he'd answer only direct questions, and this was certainly one of them. Hesitating a long moment nevertheless, he glanced away as he turned it palm upwards and gingerly held it out. He almost said something like 'it's not as bad as it looks', but that would have been a half-truth at best, blackened as it was, and he didn't want to accidentally imply that about the situation. Rather, he said nothing, but kept a tight grip on John's hand with his right one, as though afraid he was going to pull back again.
John Homme	Posted on Oct 4 2011, 11:37 PM
	Eyeing him as he brushed his hair back in a familiar and yet altogether odd gesture, given everything, John felt himself soften further. He didn't even have to think about taking hold of the other's hand, and he did so before he had a chance to talk himself out of it. Thumb brushing over the back of his hand, jaw clenched and expression slightly less hopeless than it was before, if only for the contact, he swallowed audibly. Though he was more than aware that he was being weak, even stupid, in forgiving and trusting him without much question or caution, he did not consider that point. He did not question for a moment why he had actually come, and perhaps that was a display of his naivety; he didn't wonder, even briefly, if it had been because Foras knew he couldn't say no. Even now, even knowing what he now did, he was still -- at least partially -- thinking the best of him. "Of course," he replied in a mumble. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't stop thinking about his arm; however, after all this, he was thinking about it in a different way. It had looked painful, inflamed and at risk of infection. "Can I see it?" he asked gently, not sure how Foras might react to this.

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