Dayshift 22: Chapel

[claire_ity]

Claire woke up in her room just like before, with little idea of how she actually got there. This time, though, she noticed something different about the room. There was another young woman, a blond, sleeping in a bed across from her. Before questioning that, though, she made sure to hide the items she'd gotten that night in her closet, shutting

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[lustful_thing]

Lust had planned on going to the Sun Room. She'd awoken in bed, stitches pulling her skin tight and her torso swathed in bandages. There was a wooden crutch beside her bed, and she had no delusions as to what it was for. It was for her, and her weak, broken body. Her body which had failed her, finally. She hurt all over.

Her nurse had been clucking and fussing, babbling about some fall down a flight of stairs. Pure nonsense, and Lust knew it. But arguing did no good. She was alive, and she assumed Barret was, as well. And her room was occupied, she noticed. Her own private space, and how she had to share it? She left without another thought given to the other patient.

She didn't care for any surprise, and she wanted to rest. But she had seen Scar, and had decided to follow him. Knowing the faithful fool, he was headed to the holy place. And she needed to speak to him. She limped aong after him, standing awkwardly on her crutch before him. She wasn't certain what to say, or how to begin. Or how she looked - bruised and battered from her experience.

"Scar," she said, softly. "We need to speak."

[right_handed]

It had been a while since Scar had spoken with Lust, so it was without resentment that he opened his eyes and glanced towards her, wondering why her voice sounded so weak.

He stared, then immediately stood up, all thought of repenting and asking for answers gone from his head. Perhaps Ishbala would hate him for feeling such concern for a mere sin, but concern he felt nonetheless.

"What... what happened to you?" He asked, seeing first the crutch, then the battered and broken body that leaned on them. Without thinking, he moved to support her weight, gingerly easing her into a seat on the pew. He narrowed his eyes as he stood back up, looking down at her. "I knew I should have looked for you."

But instead he had gone along with Dias and been turned down by that bastard alchemist. Although Scar's ignorance towards Lust's peril hadn't been Mustang's fault, it was easy to find blame in him nonetheless.

[heavens_too_far]

That Dias had woken up to intense pain wasn't exactly surprising. Actually, he'd been more surprised to find himself waking up at all.

When he'd opened his eyes, he'd found his right arm securely in a sling; evidently it was to keep the weight of it off the wound in his shoulder. He'd almost been afraid to assess the extent of the damage - he'd taken pride in his ability to fight one-handed for years, had actually mocked other swordsmen on occasion at their lack of skill in not even requiring him to use both hands, and for a few horrible moments the idea of only having the use of one arm for the rest of his life haunted him. But, to his own astonishment, when he'd tried flexing the arm...well, there had been pain enough that he'd quickly resolved not to repeat the experience, but his arm had moved as he'd commanded it to. Muscles, bone - they seemed to be functional, if not exactly in the best of shape.

And he still had his sword, as well - lying by his side, still stained with his own blood. He'd cleaned it as best he could manage one-handed and just managed to get it squirreled away before the nurse came to escort him out.

Going to the chapel had been a foregone conclusion; Dias was relatively religious(especially for a mercenary), although he rarely went so far as going to church, but under the circumstances he felt it couldn't hurt. If nothing else, the fact that he hadn't lost the use of his arm was a miracle of Tria and she ought to be properly thanked...that, and he felt he owed some apologies to his family as well. Whatever fake family the institute had set up for him in this place, it wasn't exactly his fault, but it was still an insult to their memories.

He saw Scar and Lust almost immediately; the crutch Lust was leaning heavily on was enough to set her out from the crowd. Normally he would have studiously avoided interrupting them, but the fact that Lust was so obviously hurt demanded that he at least check on her. She appeared to have had an even worse night than he.

The mercenary walked up to them, glancing between the two. Hopefully he wasn't interrupting anything intensely private. "Are you both all right?" It was a rather stupid question to ask Lust, but, well, she was alive, which meant that she would get better, and that was about as all right as anyone could get in this place.

[lustful_thing]

Scar's reaction was, to put it mildly, surprising. His concern, his gentleness, how he reacted as though without thinking once more. She settled into the seat, a bitter smile curving up her lips.

"It's better you didn't," she said, her tone slightly harsh. "And I'm alright, Scar, a few broken bones and some gashes. They'll heal." She almost mentioned that Simon had seen to her, but remembered Scar's resentment of the boy. No need to make him angrier than he was.

"But we do need to speak. We can't keep going as we have, Scar. I realize that when I confessed to you, you rejected me. And I have tried to accept that. I have tried to move beyond you, to shake whatever hold you have over me. But I can't. I've...."

Her words were cut off, as Dias approached. She bit off her little speech immediately, cheeks flushing as her eyes dropped to the floor. Had he heard any of it?

"I'm fine," she said. Why had she even bothered? Talking to Scar was useless. He'd most likely tell her only the same things, or grow angry, or.... "You look as though you had a poor night."

[right_handed]

Scar was about to growl out how a few broken bones and some gashes were certainly enough to warrant concern, when Lust started to speak of wounds that were harder to make heal. He felt taken aback and a little betrayed that as he tried to help her, she tried to dig her nails into his psyche, but it was when he was about to growl something in response that he heard Dias' voice and looked up to see that although his friend had been battered, he wasn't dead. One small grace, at least.

"I'm fine." He said nearly in same breath as Lust did. He paused to let her speak her piece and was further reminded how he was only sore when two of his comrades had obviously suffered much more last night.

"Dias and I tried to help Sora--the boy who came with us into... the chapel, over a week ago." It was a memory he'd rather forget, but necessary for the tale, and a good distraction from Lust's near-confession of guilt. He shook his head, eyes narrowed. "He had me help his friend while Dias was left to take on some pyre-damned abomination."

The Ishbalan clenched a fist and looked to his friend.

"I thought the kid was all right, but... I guess I was wrong."

[heavens_too_far]

Dias hadn't caught much, if any, of Lust's speech, but the way she flushed and suddenly fell silent as he approached was enough of a sign that he had indeed interrupted something. It didn't take much to make Dias uncomfortable in a social situation, and this more than met those minimal requirements.

He gave Scar a questioning glance when his friend talked about the boy - Sora, evidently. "I told him to leave me," he informed the other man. "He couldn't have helped me, and his friend was too hurt to get away on his own. If they'd stayed, I'd have had to protect them as well as myself." With a slight grimace, he added, "And even without that hindrance, I wasn't much of a match for that monster. It barely seemed to notice my attacks, and it drove my sword into the wall so deep the wall cracked. I don't know if anyone could have stood much chance against it."

After another glance at Lust - at least she seemed as well as could be hoped, given the obviously extensive injuries - which he hoped communicated an apology for having interrupted, he dropped his gaze. "I should go find River," he said, in what he hoped was a convincing manner for excusing himself. Actually, although he did hope to find River, he mostly just wanted to relocate to anywhere that wasn't the tense space between his friends.

[lustful_thing]

Lust's lips twitched into a thin line. She didn't care that Dias was there, as much as she preferred to keep private matters private.

"Not a word, Scar?" she asked, eyes narrowing. "Not one word? I place myself out before you, expose myself over and over and you refuse to even acknowledge me? Scar, you contradict everything you tell me with your actions! You chase every man I speak to away from me, you look at me as though you want me, and yet you do nothing! You tell me you hate me when you look at me with....

"I cannot continue like this! I can't even let another man touch me because all I think of is you, and you refuse to even discuss our situation with me! If you rejected me, then reject me! But you cannot reject me and then...."

She trailed off, doubling over and gripping at her middle as her stitches pulled and pain shot through her chest.

"River is fine," she grumbled, angry and frustrated and finding words difficult. She finally acknowledged Dias, not caring what he saw and heard anymore. "She was with me last night."

[right_handed]

Scar's eyes widened subtly as soon as he heard Lust begin to speak again, and though the most experience he'd had with women had been their awkward night in Scar's room and a vague memory of handing a flower to a human who looked like her, he could already tell it wouldn't be good.

He didn't move his eyes from Dias even as Lust ripped into his negligence with harsh words, brow creased as he gave his friend a look that gave off the impression of something between a stewing pot and a kicked puppy.

He slowly turned when it seemed like Lust had finished scathing him alive, seeing that she was in a great deal of pain but not really knowing how to handle it. He blinked once, wearing the same look he had given Dias before narrowing his eyes, gritting his teeth, and clenching his hands at his sides.

"What the hell do you want from me?" He growled, too affected and too displaced to consider that he was swearing in a supposedly sacred hall. "You think I know what I'm doing? I don't. You're the one called 'Lust,' you shouldn't be so... so sensitive."

His words were markedly insensitive, but he had no idea how to react except to lash out at what hurt him most.

And that had hurt.

[heavens_too_far]

Forget the pain in his shoulder; Dias had never been more uncomfortable in his life.

The first thing, the obvious thing to do was to walk away, and fast. He was trying not to even pay attention to the words that were being said, not that he needed to decipher the content to understand the situation. Scar and Lust were having a serious disagreement and he was caught in the middle thanks to his own foolishness in interrupting them against his better judgment.

The only two issues with that plan was, one, the fact that moving would draw their attention. He half believed they'd forgotten he was there, or at the very least that he could hear them, and felt - inexplicably - as if drawing attention to his existence would embarrass them. The other issue was the way Scar had looked at him; never had Dias seen a more blatant, more miserable plea for help than just now. Not that he had any idea how to help, but the thought of abandoning Scar left a bitter taste in his mouth.

So, trying desperately to become deaf, he stayed where he was.

[lustful_thing]

Lust's expression softened some, and she sighed. She really wasn't paying any attention to Dias, nor did she care he was there. Scar had, essentially, told her where the problem lay. He didn't know how to proceed. Neither did she, truth be told. What did she know of love? Lujon? Her half-formed human memories? Neither were much help.

"Scar... do you honestly think I know what I'm doing, either? You said yourself - I'm called Lust. That hardly speaks of intimate knowledge of love and courtship." She sighed, knowing he would never make a decision. Perhaps he couldn't, couldn't bring himself to shoulder that guilt. She didn't know the reason, but he wasn't going to make up his mind.

She'd have to make it up for him.

"Perhaps we're going about this wrong," she said, struggling to her feet. "We act as though we're beloveds, and I suppose that's all there is too it. There's no point in arguing and confrontation and making such a fuss. You won't allow me near any other men, and I find myself unable to engage myself with another. I only want you, and you wish me to want only you. I believe our actions have said everything we truly need to. We'll simply allow it to be as it is."

Lust stretched up, awkwardly with her bandages and crutch. She didn't care for where they were. She only wanted this done. Steadying herself on Scar's shoulder, she brushed a kiss across his lips, as though sealing her words.

[right_handed]

Scar might have growled or stammered out some other angry rebuke at what was clearly just Lust trying explain what it was they had between them. He wanted it but didn't want it, knew it although it was unknown, and the fact that there were so many people talking and mingling around them made the moment that much more frightening and uncomfortable.

'Lust' didn't mean anything about love and courtship? Why'd she think 'Scar' could do any better?

His chest felt funny.

Scar wanted to break into her words, but he found he wasn't able to. He simply watched her as she approached, arms still tense although his face wasn't so angry anymore. As she steadied herself on his shoulder, he couldn't help but bring his arm under hers to further support her, and she felt something like a broken doll pieced together by glue as her lips met his.

Whatever that funniness in his chest had been, it now turned into something far stronger. He found he didn't want to let go once she'd made contact, and in fact wanted to hold her closer, strong hands on her back saying what his words could not. He kissed back, maybe harder than he meant to, as he eased them into some kind of mutual sitting position on the pew. A doll could break so easily.

So could he.

He pulled away, slowly. He'd completely forgotten that Dias was watching, though he had some vague awareness that whatever they were doing wasn't appropriate for the setting. He watched her face with tired eyes, tired of weight, tired of guilt, tired of running away from what he wanted. He brought his right hand to her face, putting it to her cheek and her hair.

"Okay," he said, as though his voice was hoarse. "Okay."

[lustful_thing]

It was all something new and foreign. Lust had expected a protest, expected Scar's guilt and anger to rear it's ugly head once more. But it seemed as though Scar was as tired of their constant contradictory battle as well. They were two opposite forces, forever pushing against one another. Pushing didn't get them anywhere.

It was strange. Scar wasn't the first man to touch her with tenderness. Even Barret, whom she'd been in bed with hours ago had touched her with kindness and gentle hands. And as pleasant a man as he was, it hadn't felt like this. It hadn't been wanted, hadn't been sought after.

Because Barret hadn't been Scar.

"Alright," she responded, nodding as she met Scar's eyes. Her torso protested all of it, aching and stinging her and reminding her of her weaknesses. And where they were.

"I suppose I could have picked a better place for this," she muttered, leaning against Scar and seeking his warmth now that it was allowed. She cleared her throat, aware that Dias was still there, hadn't moved.

"My apologies," she managed, though she truly wasn't sorry in the least.

[heavens_too_far]

Dias had, in fact, managed to block quite a bit of the proceedings between Lust and Scar out - not quite enough to completely fail to notice the gist of what was happening, but enough to give them at least the illusion of privacy and himself a measure of deniability in the matter. At first he'd distracted himself with fervent prayers to Tria largely of the "oh goddess deliver me" variety, but then he'd noticed someone a little distance away who looked...oddly familiar. As in Expel familiar. Granted, his face wasn't framed by dragons so Dias wasn't entirely sure it was the same man, but he could have sworn...

He was dragged back to Lust and Scar, however, by Lust's uncharacteristically awkward apology. "Apologize for what?" he inquired, less out of any genuine bemusement and more to illustrate that there was nothing to apologize for.