// Poka zhiva ya mogu starat'sya na letu ne upast'...
Ivan was used to pain.
He'd been used to looking after himself for a while now, though the prospect of surviving in the Nexus without help had been daunting at first. It was relatively simple now for him to do simple tasks, although sometimes it was quite painful. Showering, for instance, was painful, but it was preferable to the agony of getting in and out of the bathtub. At least while showering he could lean against the wall.
Following his encounter with the other Raikov, he'd found himself distant, thinking about the past. Even at his most healthy, he'd never truly been like the other Raikovs. He'd never been happy. The Colonel had changed that, but the fact remained that there had still been bitterness and anger inside of him back then. As he towelled himself dry following his shower, he lost himself in memory. Thinking about it, Hal had told him his deepest secret - and he had never even told the man the reason behind his condition, the reason he was in agony, that he was confined to the chair because it just hurt too much to get out of it for long.
He drew his trousers on awkwardly, sinking down into the chair with relief once it was done. As he did, his attention was caught by a small mirror that lay beside his bed. For a few moments he simply sat there, before reaching out to take it. His reflection was not something he admired. His once-beautiful body marred and twisted by deep scars, some raised, stark white against his skin with a hint of redness, some a deep and angry crimson still, indented against his flesh. The worst of them sliced straight over his chest, from shoulder to a few inches above his waist, thick, raised and white. He was slightly thinner than he should be due to stress and refusal to eat as much as he used to. A low growl of distress slipped from his lips and he threw the mirror, hearing it smash without looking at it.
How had such beauty become so damaged? He hated the men who had done this to him, even more so for the fact they'd escaped punishment through death. Scars like these never faded and he knew that even if he regained the ability to walk, the pain might never leave fully.
Why was he cursed like this?
He'd been used to looking after himself for a while now, though the prospect of surviving in the Nexus without help had been daunting at first. It was relatively simple now for him to do simple tasks, although sometimes it was quite painful. Showering, for instance, was painful, but it was preferable to the agony of getting in and out of the bathtub. At least while showering he could lean against the wall.
Following his encounter with the other Raikov, he'd found himself distant, thinking about the past. Even at his most healthy, he'd never truly been like the other Raikovs. He'd never been happy. The Colonel had changed that, but the fact remained that there had still been bitterness and anger inside of him back then. As he towelled himself dry following his shower, he lost himself in memory. Thinking about it, Hal had told him his deepest secret - and he had never even told the man the reason behind his condition, the reason he was in agony, that he was confined to the chair because it just hurt too much to get out of it for long.
He drew his trousers on awkwardly, sinking down into the chair with relief once it was done. As he did, his attention was caught by a small mirror that lay beside his bed. For a few moments he simply sat there, before reaching out to take it. His reflection was not something he admired. His once-beautiful body marred and twisted by deep scars, some raised, stark white against his skin with a hint of redness, some a deep and angry crimson still, indented against his flesh. The worst of them sliced straight over his chest, from shoulder to a few inches above his waist, thick, raised and white. He was slightly thinner than he should be due to stress and refusal to eat as much as he used to. A low growl of distress slipped from his lips and he threw the mirror, hearing it smash without looking at it.
How had such beauty become so damaged? He hated the men who had done this to him, even more so for the fact they'd escaped punishment through death. Scars like these never faded and he knew that even if he regained the ability to walk, the pain might never leave fully.
Why was he cursed like this?