Solomon Djaevelen is the Walord Prince of Dhemlan (blackjeweled) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2011-01-05 20:57:00 |
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Entry tags: | daemon sadi, jaenelle angelline |
Who: Sol and Evie
What: He got a boo boo, she’s gonna give him a juice box, a band aid, and magic kisses.
Where: Warehouse A and back to her place
When: After his run in with Kayla and sort of during his phone call with Evie
Warnings: Little bit of blood, guts and snuggling yo
It wasn’t often that Evie got phone calls, though it was true when she did it was usually someone needing some kind of help. But this was different, this was Sol and he sounded badly hurt and broken and as concerned as she was she had learned that the best thing she could do was keep her wits about her. She would remain calm enough for the both of them.
She didn’t know what had happened to him, but she recognized that tone of voice, and she was filled with every bad emotion in the world imagining what might have happened to him to make him sound that way. She was ready to fight anyone who stood between her and making Sol better.
She was still on the phone with him as the taxi circled the area he said he was in, when she finally saw him she told the driver to stop and circle around to bring the car closer to him. She’d promised him a great deal of money if he just...Went with her on this. And because Evie had a tendency to get her way, he was more than happy to do it.
She jumped out of the car before it had even stopped moving and left the door open while she ran over to where Solomon was. She fell to her knees once she reached him and took stock quickly, she almost put her hands on him, but this was different than the last time they’d seen each other. She knew how … cautious people could be in situations like this and she spoke softly, but with a firm tone, “Sol, can I help you up? I want to take you home.” She could make him better, she had no idea what the extent of his injuries were, but she didn’t think she could fix them all on a sidewalk out in front of a warehouse in the middle of the industrial district with the clouds threatening rain at any given moment.
He barely noticed the cab stop near him. He was too focused on her voice, using that as a distraction from the pain. His heart pounded against his chest, desperate and fluttering, and he sucked in enough air for at least two people. Dizzy. He was dizzy. The world around him twisted and tilted like an amusement park ride gone terribly wrong. It was fuzzy at the edges, and his burned and watered. The cold wind stung his bare cheeks and cut through the light shirt he wore. He hadn’t expected to end up in the cold, but he couldn’t stay in the warehouse, not with Evangeline coming to get him.
It took him a minute to register her speaking, and when he did, he jumped, startled. She had approached when he hadn’t been paying attention. It wasn’t sneaking, it was his own inability to keep a steady grasp on reality. All he wanted to do was sleep.
“Evangeline?” There was no purr in his voice. He didn’t turn her name into a gentle caress. There was only desperation in his tone, only need and helplessness. He looked at her with wide eyes, hesitating for only a moment. She wouldn’t hold him down. She wouldn’t bind him and chain him and squeeze his heart to bursting. So he reached for her with both hands, and it wasn’t until the fingertips of his left hand brushed her cheek and pain shot up his arm, stabbing his chest and gut, that he remembered the damage done to it. “I-- home.” He swallowed, his mouth and throat dry. “Please.”
“Yes.” She answered easily, not phased by the start she gave him, but pleased that he came down from it so quickly. “This is probably going to hurt when I move you, but I’m not doing it on purpose, I promise,” she explained gently. She wasn’t trying to be patronizing, she was being the only way she knew how to be. She’d been through dark times, and she knew how scary it could be with even the slightest jostle. She had been there with perfect strangers, holding their hands through the hardest times of their lives, and she understood what it meant to be scared, and she knew how to deal with people who were scared.
She braced herself firmly with her feet from her crouched position, and wrapped her arms around him, shed bear all of his weight if she had to, she was stronger than she looked and about the most determined creature on the planet. Her legs would break and she’d still get him to the damned car. “Hold on,” she said as she breathed in, and used her knees to hoist the both of them up. Luc had taught her the best and easiest ways to lift heavy objects, Luc had taught her everything she knew about the lengths her body could go to if she needed it. In the end it was just a body, and bodies healed when they were meant to. She wasn’t one to mind hurting herself for a good cause.
But this didn’t hurt, she steadied them both holding onto him tightly, not even faltering in her grip. She didn’t know how much he’d be able to help her, but she was prepared for “no help at all” just in case. Steadily she helped him to the car and helped him into it making sure he was there and leaning against her before she closed the door. “Back home.” She said to the driver. “Hurry, but mind the pot holes,” she added for good measure.
Sol was leaning against her and her arms held onto him as her hand stroked his hair softly. She whispered gently to him, sweet things, nice things, telling him they’d be home soon. She was going to look after him, and that everything would be okay. She took all of her anger at what had been done to him and compartmentalized it. She did her best to turn it into the sweet somethings (never nothings) that she was telling him. It was still there though, if Luc could see her now he’d know. Papa would know too, she couldn’t ever hide it away completely, not from them. And probably not from Sol either if she was honest with herself, he seemed to know plenty; but she didn’t think he was looking right then. Her eyes were definitely the window to her soul, and as much as her soul was bright and joyous and most certainly focused on caring for Solomon, there was a very dark place inside of her and it was to that place she damned whoever it was had done this.
He tried not to drop all his weight on her. But even though his legs were fine, he was not, and the exhaustion creeping through his body turned his limbs to lead. He shuffled along side her, taking small steps. Each inch of forward progress was a struggle, as though he walked through thigh-high snowdrifts instead of across an empty parking lot. He kept his eyes on the pavement so he could watch his feet, unsure they would remain under him.
“Thank you,” he said softly, not cognizant of the words as he spoke them. He was far too focused on walking to notice something like speech. If she spoke, he didn’t hear. He stumbled along with her, trying very hard not to drop onto her and let her drag him. When they got to the car, he collapsed into the back seat, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. Blood smeared across his cheek, slick and warm, and he had to tuck his head between his knees to keep his stomach down.
The cab lurched forward and he dropped against her, not particularly concerned about getting blood on her clothes. Let Luc and her father think what they would. He didn’t care. Was too exhausted and strung out to care. The adrenaline was finally leaving his system, and in place of its rushing heat he shivered with cold. Shifting closer, he wrapped his right arm around her in an effort to get closer, and he cradled his left hand in his lap to keep it safe. She was talking to him, whispering sweet, kind things in his ear. He wasn’t sure exactly what she was saying; words were somehow beyond him, ephemeral things that grasped at meaning and definition but lacked substance. He wanted to respond to her, though, and tell her what had happened, but the driver’s weighty presence kept him silent. The man didn’t need to be given any clues as to what transpired in the warehouse.
The last thing Evie was concerned about was blood on her clothes, first she wasn’t squeamish, and second she didn’t even notice it was on her clothes. She knew he was bleeding, but the more blood she saw was less blood that was in his body. That wasn’t good.
The driver took them quickly back to Aubade and as difficult as it was she helped him out of the car, paid far too much for the cab ride and took him inside. The doorman was used to Evie coming home in all different ways, so he didn’t give them much of a look while he called the elevator for them. “We’re almost there,” she told Sol softly letting him lean against her as much as he wanted while they went up to the fifth floor.
This was not ideal, but luckily they didn’t have far to go to get into her house. It was late, and they managed to get back inside unnoticed (as best she could tell), Luc wasn’t there so it meant her Papa hadn’t discovered her missing and called out the guard. She didn’t care what he found out, he’d understand, but she didn’t want to waste time explaining either. She took him directly to her bedroom and kicked the door closed behind her and took him to her bed. “Lay down,” she said and helped him get there as best he could.
She didn’t waste any time brushing the hair off his forehead and she leaned forward a bit so he would look at her. “I can fix this,” she whispered. “You just have to tell me where to start.” She could assess the injuries on his hand, his face but she didn’t know what else might be wrong, and she hesitated to just start taking his clothes off to find out for herself. “Sol, I can fix you,” she said again. She knew it would hurt, and she knew it would be exhausting, but once it was done it would be done and she could rest it off. She wasn’t afraid of pain, she wasn’t afraid of hurting herself, she just needed to fix Sol.
The world around him was made up of fragmented moments. There was the moment in the cab that one of the muscles in his leg spasmed and, snarling, he reached out with as many phantom hands as he could to choke the life out of the vile bitch. But she wasn’t there, and the world fractures around him. The next snippet of life was the cab hitting a pothole. It wouldn’t have bothered him too much if he hadn’t been nauseous. Before he could grumble about it, reality fell away from him.
Most of the trek from the cab to the elevator was a blur, though he was left with the impression he may have hit the doorman. Maybe. He couldn’t be sure and didn’t care to be. Evangeline shuffled him into her apartment, and he was vaguely aware of Monsieur Fat Cat’s displeasure when Solomon nearly tripped over him. The cat hissed, and Sol hissed back.
Then he was in her room, the scent of peaches and cream swirling around him and soothing his frayed nerves. The sweet smell was intoxicating. And then she pointed to her bed. She couldn’t possibly know what that said to him or how he interpreted it, and he fought a brief, nasty battle with himself. For him, his room, and more importantly his bed, was a sanctuary. He didn’t share. Not unless the person was very special. In his long, long life, only a handful of people had been welcome in his bed, and that list started and ended up Luc and Cora.
Some traitorous part of his mind said he would let Evangeline into his bed, but he didn’t want to think about that. Couldn’t think about that. Swallowing hard and stomping down on the urge to fight her, Sol collapsed onto her bed. He didn’t bother kicking off his shoes, and it didn’t occur to him that the dried blood on his face and palms was flaking onto her sheets. Her hands touched his hair and he sighed, content. Her words didn’t make much sense to him, but he held up his left hand. It was puffy and red, with purple and blue bruises forming under the skin, looking like someone had shut it in a door. “She did something,” he said quietly, his voice wandering and distracted.
If Evie had stopped to think about it, which she didn’t, she would have realized that this was the first time anyone other than her had been in her bed. But it didn’t matter, she didn’t have to be that kind of careful with Sol. She was more sure about that than she had ever been anything. Between the two of them there were enough bad memories and painful experiences to break anyone. She knew she was broken, she knew she was different, and she knew that she was always walking a fine line between herself and...Well, her Papa called her feral when she had her bad days. He meant it in an endearing way, and she took it as such. She’d have laughed now just thinking about it if she wasn’t focused on moving her hands down Sol’s arms gently.
She didn’t like seeing him like this, she didn’t like seeing him hurt. She would save him, make it all better. No sweat. Her eyes narrowed just slightly when he said ‘she did something.’ Well, “she” better hope to never meet Evie. Evie knew Luc, and what he could do to a person. She assumed Sol was no slack in a fight either. She was aware it was illogical to think she could take the bitch who had done this in a fight, which is why she was resigned to just light her on fire if she ever met her. Or shooting her in the face. Evie wasn’t stupid, she didn’t care much about what happened to her or her damned body, but she also liked to win. There was no dishonor in shoving a grenade in that bitch’s mouth. She didn’t let her mind dwell too long on all the ways she’d kill her if she ever found her, she had her starting point, and that was all she needed.
Evie’s ability was special, she knew it was. It was painful and exhausting but she didn’t mind a bit. She didn’t particularly like her body all that much, it was a nuisance most of the time anyway, so putting it through a bit of pain to help someone out was a nice reminder that she could do with her body whatever she wanted. Evie’s ability required a starting point, and injury to focus on while it spread through the rest of the injured person’s body. In this case she was starting on Sol’s hand, she didn’t know how she did it, it was just like flipping a switch really. “I have to touch it, tell me when everything stops hurting,” she said softly as she put both of her hands on top of his injured one gently.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and she knew it was starting to work when she felt her own hand start to throb. His would be starting to feel better, and as the sensation moved up his arm, across his chest and shoulders, down his other arm, and his midsection, she felt the pain of his injuries, her chest tightened and her heart literally ached when she reached that part of him. She was in a fair amount of pain, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at her, her grasp on him was steady, her breathing even and her eyes remained closed. She wasn’t doing any harm to herself, she didn’t miraculously have his injuries, just the pain. She ventured that it wasn’t as bad as he’d had it, but she wouldn’t have mentioned it if it did. If she could help it anyway, the worst thing she’d ever healed was a little boy who’d been lit on fire by a vicious parent and that pain...That had been terrible. She’d rested for two weeks after that escapade. Evie gauged things differently than most, she thought of the worst thing that had ever happened to her, that image was clear in her mind, and if whatever she was going through wasn’t worse than that, she knew she could stand it.
Relief came over him like a cool wave. It carried him from the spiraling depths of his pain, pushing him back into a world that was solid and real and bearable. The throbbing in his hand diminished, fading rapidly, and the ache in his chest eased. Breathing became easier; filling his lungs with a breath no longer hurt like a merciless bitch.
Sighing softly, he stretched out on her bed, feeling whole and good again. At least physically. His mind was still turbulent, filled with thoughts he didn’t want to voice or share. Tugging his hand from her hold, he slid his fingers over her cheek in a gentle caress. “Evangeline,” he said quietly, feeling sleepy now that his body didn’t hurt enough to keep him awake. His fingers brushed through her hair and over the shell of her ear, and he slid away from her, patting the bed. “Lay down,” he told her, the command softened by a voice thick with sleep.
When he started to move she let herself open her eyes, and she looked at him, he looked better. Much better. She leaned into his hand on her cheek and gave him a tired smile. She wasn’t taking deep breaths, that hurt a bit, she hoped she’d be better tomorrow. Her hand was throbbing, and it was just a reminder of how badly he’d been hurt and she was livid all over again.
But he calmed her down, hearing her name, seeing him well again, it all helped mellow her a bit. He scooted over and she smiled just a little nervously and kicked her shoes off as she moved onto the bed next to him. This was all sorts of new for her, and she didn’t want to do it wrong. She didn’t want him to go. She looked at him, “All better?” she asked hopefully. “I can do more.” Just in case.
With a sleepy smile, he nodded. “You’re wonderful, it’s fine,” he told her, barely aware of what he said. As she settled beside him, he scooted closer, and it was then he noticed he still wore his shoes. With a frown, he toed them off, kicking them onto the floor. Then he settled her back against his chest. When he let his head hit the pillow, his nose brushed her hair, and he inhaled quietly, savoring the scent of her shampoo. Cozy and content, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
Evie was tense for about a second while she settled against him, he made it impossible to worry about doing things right or wrong. She couldn’t sleep, she wasn’t feeling well at all, but she was calm. And that was something. She was tired, she knew she’d drift off eventually, but right now her mind was racing, and she was relieved she was laying here with Sol instead of all of the other terrible things that could have happened. She felt herself scooting closer, if it was possible, and “helping” him wrap his arm around her tighter.