| No Way Back [Genma & Raidou] | [Nov. 30th, 2010|10:53 pm] |
Takes place in the morning on April 9th, following Hit the Ground Running
The clock was still glowing when Raidou woke up, and the rest of the room along with it. Broad streaks of midday sun beamed through the blinds, cutting bright swathes across the floor. The whole room felt warm. Hot, even. Though that might have had something to do with the over-warm body pressed up against his right side.
As it turned out, two fully grown men tangled together in a nest of blankets and sunshine equaled a heat source that was approximately furnace-like.
Raidou licked his lips (when had he last brushed his teeth?), and lifted an unthinking hand to rub over his sweaty face. He expected rough stubble and the warped, plastic-like feel of old scars, like always.
The strip of skin that came away beneath his fingertips was a surprise.
Shock-calm, he lifted his hand and stared at it. Dangling from his fingers, white cloth glistened in the light, wet with serous fluid and streaks of old, jellied blood. He turned his hand. On the other side, a smeared row of black seals marched down the strip.
Bandage. Not skin.
That was still a problem.
Infection, infection, infection -- oh my god, my face is going to rot off.
With agonizing slowness, Raidou lifted his head from Genma's shoulder, twisted carefully out of the hand still loosely clasping the back of his neck, and sat up. Another strip of wet bandage peeled away and slid down the side of his neck, like rotten banana skin. He breathed through his teeth and put his hand against his throat, holding the rest in place. Then, without screaming or panicking or doing anything else entirely justified, he reached out and grabbed Genma's shoulder with his other hand.
Genma, being battlefield-trained and therefore primed to wake up on a hair-trigger, mumbled sleepily and turned halfway onto his side. Brown hair fell in long strands across his face, casting thin shadows. His unwounded hand pulled itself in tight against his stomach; the other was still trapped in its sling, which, mercifully, hadn't decided to spontaneously combust.
Raidou tightened his grip. Genma's eyes slitted half open, rolling tension sliding down his spine.
"Wha--?" he began, lurching upright, gaze darting around.
Raidou took another breath. Ten years ago, he'd gotten in a lot of practice at speaking without moving his jaw. The reflex came back now. "Little problem," he said tightly, as Genma's eyes fixed on his face and widened. "Could use some help."
It wasn't hurting yet, but it would. |
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