Can't feel a single thing from my head to my toes.

[troparion]

Who: Nicholas D. Wolfwood and Maya Fey.
When: Oooh boy... Last Thursday? Yeah.
Where: A street in sector 9.
Summary: When they say it's a crazy powerswap day, they really mean that it's a crazy powerswap day. That is to say -- Wolfwood loses it, and Maya's around to save the sector.
Warnings: Violence. Language. Heroine Mediums.

Comments

Timeskip two days lata!

[acemedium]

[He'd taken her home with him.]

[He'd taken her home with him, had his doctor roommate bandage her (he'd been nice. She'd been terrified - but Wolfwood had been nearby, so she stayed as still as she could, closed her eyes, and assured herself Wolfwood wouldn't let anything happen)

Her fears had been irrational, anyway. It's not like she'd gotten any urges to suddenly attack Tenma when he he was treating her, even though it hurt and she was scared. It had gone without a hitch and she'd felt a little better. It was still healing on its own, so....

After that, she'd quietly thanked them both, pulled herself (with difficulty) over to a little spot out of the way (out of his way; she was troubling him enough as is) against the wall in the apartment, had settled herself there in a sitting position, and hadn't moved since then (aside from washing herself - that she'd always do). Her hair remained down and she'd stayed in the clothes she'd been given, she didn't eat, (she was starving to death, and every minute she felt weaker, but-) she didn't sleep, didn't even think too much, just sat silently with her head down.]

[troparion]

[she was a stupid, stupid girl, and he was a stupid, stupid man, and together, without Tenma, Wolfwood was sure the entire place would have gone to ruin because of their combined stupidity.]

[or something similar to that, anyway. right now, right here, he'd just gotten back from a quick (no more than an hour) run to the local contact point with St. Mathew. there was another bounty within the price range that he needed, and the information was solid enough that he was reasonably sure he could catch the man in a week, if all went well-- but coming home to that girl still sitting in the corner of a room, just sitting there, well. that wasn't his definition of things 'going well.']

[but he didn't say anything about it. he dropped the Punisher with a clunk next to the door - kicked off his shoes, nudged them into a neat row, shoved his shaking hands (someone down the hallway was feeling anxiety, and it was strong enough that he was wondering if there wouldn't be an ambulance pulling up soon) into his pockets and craned his neck to look on over at her.]

[she hadn't budged an inch, he noticed.]

[she might not have had the strength to, he supposed-- still, it had his mouth turning into a deeper frown, eyes narrowing slightly. a second passed, then another, and finally, he started on over to where she was crouching - had his head tilted up and to the side, a half-greeting in itself. he'd made a point to always do this, yes, but maybe this time was different. (how much longer could she last?)]

Hey.

[acemedium]

[She heard him come in, as usual. He'd barely been gone, she didn't even know how long, but yet, even in the pathetic, lifeless state that she was in, it stirred up that elusive feeling of safety]

[(She'd feel guilty, too, if she could reach that, but she was just so, so, tired)]

[That crumpled little bundle of girl still didn't move even with him here, though. Not until he was drawing close and addressing her, and she lifted her head up to look at him, acknowledging his greeting and waiting to see if there was anything he wanted her to say or do.]

[(She'd wish she had the strength to greet him properly and welcome him back, if she could reach that, but she was just so, so, tired)]

[troparion]

[starving children. what did you do with starving children?]

[he'd seen his fair share before, of course - Gunsmoke had loads of them, of all shapes and sizes, and the fact that she was technically older than him made no difference. she was starving, and she looked like a child. that was all he needed to know.]

[she was responding to him still, though. that was good.]

[he jerked his chin up and over toward the general area of the kitchen, a questioning tilt to his head and a pointedly raised eyebrow. so long as she could focus on him and keep lucid, she wasn't gone yet. (how much longer was this going to last? he wasn't angry at her-- probably couldn't be, at this point- but at that damned Core. it was messing with all of them, and his patience was wearing out).]

[still, right. priorities. he was finding he couldn't wait for the Core, but he could sound beyond patient with this:] You drink anything today, girlie?

FUUUU I TENSE CHANGED

[acemedium]

[She started to give her head one little half-shake to signify no, and then instead made an attempt to speak. Her voice was hoarse and scratchy and small, but it was there-]

I'm not really thirsty.

[Having that said, she found herself lowering her eyes a little bit. What was the point, really? She'd probably survive until everything went back to normal, but that didn't change anything]

[Still a useless, worthless little girl in a city she had no place in. A city with no justice, with corruption and suffering and death everywhere and people that were too grey and too complicated for this little girl who just wanted things to be safe and simple and right]

[But that was just another naive wish of hers that would never be granted. Like Mother coming back. Like having a mother, any mother (Aunt Morgan...). Like not being so helpless (she'd just ended up a monster, instead)]

[If you could see what you died for, Mother, what would you think....?]

[troparion]

That's just your stomach talking. Y'need to drink.

[calm, steady, and even a bit quiet-voiced. there was a roil of emotions all around her, and as much as Wolfwood wanted to reach out, he also very much didn't. he'd had his share of brushing up against emotionally- volatile people over the past few days. he wasn't sure if he could keep calm and steady if he did it to her.]

[and calm and steady was what she probably needed. god knows he had no idea what else he could give her.]

[acemedium]

Hollows don't drink.

[She didn't sound contradictory or difficult or sulky. She sounded tired, beyond tired, exhausted, small, and weak.]

[Mother--]

[She moved then, slightly, curling a little into herself without even really realizing. It made her smaller still, but it was almost defensive, like she was about to hold herself. But she didn't, instead her head dipped down lower, until she was looking at his feet.]

[--She wanted to go home (That was just another impossible wish). She wanted to have hope--]

[(-But things weren't going to get better--)]

[troparion]

Don't care. You didn't say can't. [he hesitates, here, seems almost about to reach out to her (- she was full of so much longing, it was like his ribcage was being squeezed, all thoughts turning on to only his orphanage - the one on Gunsmoke - the one he wanted still beyond any reason -)]

[but then, but then, he pulled back, stopped, eyes on her for a second longer before turning away and toward the kitchen.]

If I bring it out, you'll drink it, yeah?

I'm sorry for all of this ;;

[acemedium]

[There was no response other than a half-hearted "mm". She didn't argue with him or give much of an indication either way, eyes still on his feet and then the floor as he started to shuffle away. Her stomach felt too shriveled and shrunken and the thought of food or drink just made her feel sick. But her thoughts were elsewhere.]

[Lost.]

[That was the word - that was the word that summed up everything. Eight months in this city, and she still felt as tiny and terrified and lost and alone as the day the Pull dragged her in]

[She had no place in this city. No place among these people- these people--]

[How could she believe in them? Any of them? Liquid. Godot (What if she'd been wrong....?). Grimmjow. The list went on---]

apologize for nothing!

[troparion]

Come on.

[if she looked up, there'd be a hand extended toward her. maybe she didn't have enough energy to stand by herself, but she should've still been fine with moving-- if she wasn't, then there was something bigger than starvation going on (which would be the emotional depression, but Wolfwood wanted to bet she wasn't suicidal enough to just die. ... would she? wouldn't he 'feel' it?)]

[he was hoping to cut through what he saw as her blank look - in that, he wouldn't be backing down. wouldn't be lowering his hand or his stare until she took the former, either.]

apologizes for everything.... including how tl;dr this comment is cries

[acemedium]

[It took her a minute or so to realize she was being spoken to, another few seconds after that for her to look up. And yet another minute for her to realize what he was doing. Her eyes flitted slowly between his face and the outstretched hand, like she didn't understand what he was doing (And she didn't. Why was he-- Why would he--)]

[He was refusing.... to turn his back on her? He was determined to take care of her, no matter what she.... No matter what she...]

[--That hand, she wanted to take it and never let go. (It had been so long since anyone had--)]

[(But he was one of them. Back there, he'd scared her. That side of him, bearing down on that man, ready to kill and snarling and bloody and dangerous, what if he--)]

[(--No, she couldn't even bring herself to even try doubting this man. This man, who held her when he cried and refused to turn his back on her. The truth of the matter was, she loved him too much to even consider the possibility that he was "bad" in any way. (But what was "bad", anyway? This city...). If anything, even skirting over the matter was sending her into another wave of guilt (even the thought was ungrateful. So, so, ungrateful, but she didn't--)]

[She took that hand without hesitation (she didn't want to ever let go) and the guilt faded. The world didn't make any more sense, but just like before, she already felt a little safer and steadier, even though her own hand was small and her grip was weak and she still wouldn't be able to walk on that leg]

[She spoke, too, finally spoke without having to be prompted, even though her voice was just as faint and fading as the rest of her] Mr. Wolfwood, can I ask you something?

stop apologizingggg. it's all fiiiine. also ahhh Maya. ;; bad side of Wolfwood.

[troparion]

[even if it did eventually fade, that guilt hit hard and strong. if he hadn't been trained to hold still, he would have flinched back from it- it was like a cold, wet hands all along his back, grabbing his neck and threatening to choke but never quite getting there--]

Yeah, sure. What is it?

[he hauled her up slowly, went with his other hand to help support her under the elbow. as always, he was sounding neutral, looking neutral, observing neutrally. she'd prompted her own question - he was happy for that alone.]

[(maybe. depending on the question. but he didn't have the emotions to feel worried himself.)]

NEVER sob don't mind her moral crisising for a little she'll deal

[acemedium]

[Fortunately, he didn't flinch back, and she was too preoccupied with her efforts to stand (though they weren't much better than they had been a few days ago) to pick up on any discomfort that may or may not have shown. She stumbled one-leggedly against his grip, silent for a minute in her efforts to keep upright and go along with what he wanted (in her mind, anyway)]

[Then, she turned her big dark eyes up towards him, and finally--]

Why are you doing this?

[It wasn't suspicious or mistrusting or questioning his intentions. She was looking at him the way a child would look to their parent for guidance; like the world didn't make sense and only he could make sense of it. Her voice lost even more of whatever pitiful strength remained, and:]

Back there, you told me you were a stranger to me so I shouldn't try to help you, but... isn't that the same for you?

[There was that lack of understanding again; not that he was doing it, but that he was doing it for her. She still struggled to comprehend any sort of real kindness or caring directed at her, especially now, and it had been so long since anyone had really taken care of her that she--]

[...The truth was, past not understanding, that she really didn't know how to handle it. (And how could he be "bad" when he'd sheltered her and refused to leave her and he was right there pulling her up and this felt so--)]

I-- I-I'm just taking up space here, and on top of that, I'm a danger to you, so I don't.... W-Why...?