Re: Red (1c/?)
anonymous
September 26 2011, 04:19:12 UTC
Ivan watched him all the while, trying to collect his thoughts. “Matthew,” he began slowly, “Do you know where you are?”
His eyes flicked towards Ivan, but he tensed, curling up tighter, and didn’t make a sound. Ivan supposed that meant ‘no.’ “You are in Alaska. I have a house here. I found you at the door. You are injured.” As he spoke, he moved closer to the tub. Matthew’s eyes followed him, warily. “And you are very cold. I can help you, da?”
He made no sign that he understood. Ivan wondered if he should try speaking French. He hadn’t actually spoken the language in a hundred years, but he remembered enough. “Vous êtes en Alaska. J’ai une maison ici.”
Another not-quite-scream, and then Matthew hid his face against his knees and tried to bring up his arms to cover his head. The right one wasn’t working properly. This was not the reaction Ivan had hoped for. He stared.
He went up to the edge of the tub again, slowly. “I will not hurt you.” He wanted to know who had - oh, did he want to know - but that would have to wait. “Relax, yes? Uspokoytes’.”
Even more slowly, he reached out and grabbed the mug of hot water he’d set down earlier. Still warm, at least. “You are cold,” he repeated, and it out. “This will help to warm you up.”
Matthew moved his hand away from one of his eyes, but didn’t reach out. He eyed Ivan suspiciously.
“It is only water. I promise. You are too cold.”
Finally, after several agonizing seconds, Matthew reached out one unsteady hand to take the mug.
Ivan smiled at him. “Good.”
With that matter settled he turned away from Matthew, to rummage in the cabinets. They were well-stocked with supplies; he’d had need of them often enough, even here.
By the time he had that all arranged and turned back round, Matthew had drunk his water and set the mug down at the edge of the tub. He’d curled into a ball again, hiding his head. From that angle Ivan could see that his back was a mess, and wondered if he’d have to do any stitching. Before he could get to that though, the excess blood needed to come off, and give him a better view.
He approached the tub again, and had to reach over the edge to pull the stopper - Matthew noticed this, and shrank away from him. He started to cry out but stopped when Ivan reached away to turn the tap back on, and reached over again - a flinch from Matthew this time, but no crying - to grab the showerhead, and explained, “Your wounds need to be bandaged. I cannot do that until I can clearly see them, da? You have a lot of blood on you.”
He watched Matthew intently. Finally, he nodded his head, a fraction of an inch. Ivan leaned over him - another flinch - set the showerhead to its lowest setting, and began to rinse off the blood. Matthew shook, whimpering.
“It is painful, I know,” he murmured. “But it is necessary.” Gently he used his free hand to take Matthew’s arm and hold it away from his body, so he could get it clean. He followed suit with the other arm, and Matthew didn’t protest, though he tensed up like mad and Ivan could see him biting his lower lip so hard he was sure it would break the skin, and then there would be more blood.
When Ivan asked him to unfold his legs, he refused.
“I have already seen those injuries, Matthew. I will not touch you there.”
He didn’t move. It took several minutes of cajoling him - and Ivan found himself speaking Russian at the end of it, because he was tired and he’d never been good at this sort of thing in English, anyways - but Matthew finally stretched out in the bathtub, so Ivan could get to work.
His legs weren’t as bloody as the rest of him, but his hips and thighs were mottled black-and-blue. As Ivan rinsed them off he saw a red drop land on his arm and looked up to see Matthew crying. A thin trail of blood dripped down from his lip, where he’d finally broken the skin. Ivan stared at it a moment, before tearing his eyes away and resuming his work.
“Vsyo budyet khorosho, Motka,” he murmured, “Vsyo budyet v poryadkye, da? Shh.”
Re: Red (1d/?)
anonymous
September 26 2011, 04:19:50 UTC
He finished up as quickly as he could, noting as he did that several of the wounds would probably need to be sewn shut. Whoever had done this hadn’t done so systematically; there was no pattern to his injuries...whoever had done this wasn’t experienced with torture. But who? That would have to wait. “Now we just need to bandage you,” he said softly. Matthew didn’t give any indication that he had heard.
Ivan got up and grabbed a stool from the corner of the bathroom along with several towels. Lucky they were dark-colored, he thought, blood always looked more shocking on white. He took Matthew’s hand and after a minute or so managed to get him unsteadily to his feet. He held out one of the towels and handed it to him straight away - “You can put this on,” - and Matthew started trembling again and wouldn’t look at him, but he wrapped the towel around his waist. He sat down when Ivan told him to - flinching, and Ivan didn’t want to think about that - and Ivan sat on the edge of the tub, and patted off the excess water carefully with the other towels he had.
“It is almost over,” he explained slowly, as he put his supplies in order, and uncapped the bottle of vodka. He could do with some, right now, he decided, and drank, before continuing. “What I am going to do next will hurt. Your injuries need to be disinfected and bandaged. Some of them must be stitched, da?”
Matthew blanched and Ivan wished fleetingly that he didn’t have to do this. He drank, again, and a thought occurred to him.
He held the bottle up to Matthew’s lips. “Drink,” he said. “It will help you forget.”
Matthew drank.
-------------------------------
Translations: Shto dyelat’ - What should I do? (lit. What is to be done?) Kto vinovat - Who is to blame? Uspokoytes’ - Relax. Vsyo budet khorosho - Everything will be fine Vsyo budet v poryadkye - Everything will be okay
His eyes flicked towards Ivan, but he tensed, curling up tighter, and didn’t make a sound. Ivan supposed that meant ‘no.’ “You are in Alaska. I have a house here. I found you at the door. You are injured.” As he spoke, he moved closer to the tub. Matthew’s eyes followed him, warily. “And you are very cold. I can help you, da?”
He made no sign that he understood. Ivan wondered if he should try speaking French. He hadn’t actually spoken the language in a hundred years, but he remembered enough. “Vous êtes en Alaska. J’ai une maison ici.”
Another not-quite-scream, and then Matthew hid his face against his knees and tried to bring up his arms to cover his head. The right one wasn’t working properly. This was not the reaction Ivan had hoped for. He stared.
He went up to the edge of the tub again, slowly. “I will not hurt you.” He wanted to know who had - oh, did he want to know - but that would have to wait. “Relax, yes? Uspokoytes’.”
Even more slowly, he reached out and grabbed the mug of hot water he’d set down earlier. Still warm, at least. “You are cold,” he repeated, and it out. “This will help to warm you up.”
Matthew moved his hand away from one of his eyes, but didn’t reach out. He eyed Ivan suspiciously.
“It is only water. I promise. You are too cold.”
Finally, after several agonizing seconds, Matthew reached out one unsteady hand to take the mug.
Ivan smiled at him. “Good.”
With that matter settled he turned away from Matthew, to rummage in the cabinets. They were well-stocked with supplies; he’d had need of them often enough, even here.
By the time he had that all arranged and turned back round, Matthew had drunk his water and set the mug down at the edge of the tub. He’d curled into a ball again, hiding his head. From that angle Ivan could see that his back was a mess, and wondered if he’d have to do any stitching. Before he could get to that though, the excess blood needed to come off, and give him a better view.
He approached the tub again, and had to reach over the edge to pull the stopper - Matthew noticed this, and shrank away from him. He started to cry out but stopped when Ivan reached away to turn the tap back on, and reached over again - a flinch from Matthew this time, but no crying - to grab the showerhead, and explained, “Your wounds need to be bandaged. I cannot do that until I can clearly see them, da? You have a lot of blood on you.”
He watched Matthew intently. Finally, he nodded his head, a fraction of an inch. Ivan leaned over him - another flinch - set the showerhead to its lowest setting, and began to rinse off the blood. Matthew shook, whimpering.
“It is painful, I know,” he murmured. “But it is necessary.” Gently he used his free hand to take Matthew’s arm and hold it away from his body, so he could get it clean. He followed suit with the other arm, and Matthew didn’t protest, though he tensed up like mad and Ivan could see him biting his lower lip so hard he was sure it would break the skin, and then there would be more blood.
When Ivan asked him to unfold his legs, he refused.
“I have already seen those injuries, Matthew. I will not touch you there.”
He didn’t move. It took several minutes of cajoling him - and Ivan found himself speaking Russian at the end of it, because he was tired and he’d never been good at this sort of thing in English, anyways - but Matthew finally stretched out in the bathtub, so Ivan could get to work.
His legs weren’t as bloody as the rest of him, but his hips and thighs were mottled black-and-blue. As Ivan rinsed them off he saw a red drop land on his arm and looked up to see Matthew crying. A thin trail of blood dripped down from his lip, where he’d finally broken the skin. Ivan stared at it a moment, before tearing his eyes away and resuming his work.
“Vsyo budyet khorosho, Motka,” he murmured, “Vsyo budyet v poryadkye, da? Shh.”
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Ivan got up and grabbed a stool from the corner of the bathroom along with several towels. Lucky they were dark-colored, he thought, blood always looked more shocking on white. He took Matthew’s hand and after a minute or so managed to get him unsteadily to his feet. He held out one of the towels and handed it to him straight away - “You can put this on,” - and Matthew started trembling again and wouldn’t look at him, but he wrapped the towel around his waist. He sat down when Ivan told him to - flinching, and Ivan didn’t want to think about that - and Ivan sat on the edge of the tub, and patted off the excess water carefully with the other towels he had.
“It is almost over,” he explained slowly, as he put his supplies in order, and uncapped the bottle of vodka. He could do with some, right now, he decided, and drank, before continuing. “What I am going to do next will hurt. Your injuries need to be disinfected and bandaged. Some of them must be stitched, da?”
Matthew blanched and Ivan wished fleetingly that he didn’t have to do this. He drank, again, and a thought occurred to him.
He held the bottle up to Matthew’s lips. “Drink,” he said. “It will help you forget.”
Matthew drank.
-------------------------------
Translations:
Shto dyelat’ - What should I do? (lit. What is to be done?)
Kto vinovat - Who is to blame?
Uspokoytes’ - Relax.
Vsyo budet khorosho - Everything will be fine
Vsyo budet v poryadkye - Everything will be okay
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Very much looking forward to the next update!
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Or your capital will become Warsaw! XD
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