ione meliflua (ioned) wrote in raveled, @ 2017-02-27 06:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! decade: 1980s, ! log, fabian prewett, ione meliflua |
WHO: Fabian Prewett & Ione Meliflua
WHAT: Ione had a bad day at work
WHEN: Early 1980
WHERE: Fabian's flat
WARNINGS: Medical squick, blood
Fabian let Ione lean on him heavily as he opened the door to the flat. "You took a pretty hard backlash, Ione. Mrs Biggleswade was right; I should have taken you to Mungo's. Or at least I should get hold of Gideon and let him have a look at you. Merlin knows he's nursemaided me through enough hangovers and backlashes over the years." Fortunately for Fabian, he'd only been a secondary party to the contract and therefore to the working, and he'd managed to avoid the worst of the collapsing binding. Ione had been in the middle of the work and had taken almost the entirety of the backlash from the failure of the enchantment. To Fabian's experienced eyes, she looked a bit green around the gills and was moving as if she were drunk. Merlin knew what she was thinking or feeling. "Come on, one more flight of stairs. Up to the sofa and then you can rest." Technically it was a futon, and Fabian kept it upstairs because it also served as a guest bed when he needed one and because there was no room downstairs given the piano. He urged Ione round the corner past the loo and toward the stair to the loft, hoping she could make it and trying to think what he had that would serve as a basin if she were sick. This was precisely why she hated her job. Everything about what happened was the very worst parts of it. Enchantments shouldn’t belong in contracts. Especially not the ones that could scathe a person so wretchedly. As much as Ione would like to say that she was just acting noble, taking the brunt of the punishment, the truth was that she had just been quite unlucky. Maybe really horrible at her job. And now she was probably leaving a blood trail all alone Fabian’s floor, as he lead her into the house. Though she had her pride, her legs were quite wobbly, and so she was leaning on him heavily. Every inch of her skin felt like it was on fire, and not just because of the cuts and bruises and god knew what else. It just felt like she had been dosed with acid. It stung to be up next to him, but she definitely couldn’t have walked any other way. “I’m fine,” she muttered. “I do not want to go to Mungos. I can’t.” Her mother would find out that she was there, and then who knew what would happen. She was most certainly not fine. But at least she wasn’t passed out. With each step, Ione had to inhale as pain shot through her. It was a wonder her legs hadn’t turned to jelly. “I just want to lie down.. I’m so hot. Is it hot in here?” "You've got a fever, probably." Fabian didn't need to check her forehead to be fairly certain of that. "Come on, last few steps and we'll let you rest. I'll give you a pain potion and some feverfew and some tea with lemon--" and probably something stronger if she looked like she could tolerate it without being sick "--and you can sleep it off. And heal up some of those cuts and bruise paste for the bruises." The worst of it was clearly the backlash, as far as Fabian could tell. "And we'll send your robes to Mr Grumwhistle, my own tailor, who's a marvel of discretion." Mostly Fabian was talking to keep Ione moving and to keep her reassured. When they'd mounted the rest of the steps, he helped Ione down onto the futon, which was set up as a sofa for the moment. He had no intention of changing it; she could rest on it as it was. And if she was overheated with fever, she wouldn't need much in the way of bedding. He Accioed a pain potion from his own supply on the bathroom counter so he could stay with her. Also because he didn't want to chance her seeing exactly what was in his potions supply, which was far too varied and interesting for a mere journeyman solicitor. “Only you would have some .. tailor that fixes up your clothes when you tatter them because of rebounding spells,” she muttered. She was teasing him of course, but it was easier to just tease than to focus on how fucking awful she felt. Honestly she’d just as soon toss her robes into the trash. “Can he fix shoes? I think I broke a heel. Now that’s a part that needs to be fixed.” Once she was at the futon, she settled herself down and winced as she did. Maybe a few curse words under her breath. She toed off the shoes (of which one was most assuredly broken) and settled back, shutting her eyes. Maybe now the room would stop spinning. “You know what? Fuck people. I’m so fucking done, trying to be nice and doing the right thing. People are a bunch of assholes. Why couldn’t I have gone into a profession where I don’t have to speak or touch anyone at all? I could be a hermit. I’d be very good at it.” She didn’t know who would pay her for it, but it sounded nice. "He can fix shoes. Depending on how they're broken, I can fix shoes. If it's more than a simple mending charm, though, I send it out." Fabian started to offer her the pain potion but thought better of it because, first, her eyes were closed, and second, he needed a basin in case she was sick. "Do you want me to switch you into a pair of my pyjamas? I know you're not up to a bath, but we can at least get you out of these clothes. And then you can have a pain potion, all right? "And," proving that he had been paying attention, Fabian added, "Mysteries. You want to work in Mysteries. Which is not to say there are no arseholes in Mysteries, just … you wouldn't have to deal with very many." “I think just the heel is broken. If you can fix it, be my guest..” She wasn’t sure that it wasn’t more than just the heel snapping, but she hadn’t stopped to look. It hurt too much to bend over and look at it. The shoes were there by her feet though. “Only if you don’t mind me bleeding into them, because I’m pretty sure that I’m bleeding.” And blood was an awful fucking pain to get out of clothes, that much she knew. It would be nice to get out of her clothes, but she didn’t want to ruin his. And while a bath sounded heavenly, she was probably too messed up for that. She finally opened up her eyes, and sat up. She peeled her jacket off and sure enough, there was a giant blood spot on her shirt, in a line. It was the worst of her injuries, but it was pretty damn bad. “If I don’t have to talk to them, then I’m definitely applying to Mysteries. How bad is it?” she asked, turning around to show him her back. It was clear there was a giant laceration down it. When it had gone off, she had turned and put her back to it. It was probably lucky, truth be told. It was still painful as shit though. Fabian swore softly as he realised how seriously Ione was injured. "Nothing I can't close, but I'll have to bandage it up after, and I'll need to clean you up after, for sure. Don't worry about the blood. With the number of nephews we've got, Gideon and I have learnt to clean up after bloody gushers. Literally." It was the excuse he gave for being such a dab hand at first aid. though he'd learnt more in the Order than he had from Molly. It was handy with the nephews, but not nearly as necessary as it was after the increasingly bloody duels they were involved in with the Order. "Are you sure you won't let me call Gideon over? He's the healer, not me, and far better equipped to heal the backlash than I am." Her nose wrinkled at the word gushers. Gross. “All right, then I’ll take the pyjamas. Or however you want to do this.” As long as whatever was done, was done quickly. “I’m sure. The less people that know about this, the less wounded my pride will be. And there were already enough people there when it happened. I’m sure it’s getting around to everyone by now.” In fact, she was surprised that her mother wasn’t clamoring to get to her. Either that or sending her a howler for being so foolish. “I just want it done and over with. Though of course, if for some reason, I start to die, then you can call him. I’m not a total idiot.” She said with a small smirk, though really it was easy to tell that she was trying not to burst into tears. It really fucking hurt. “Do you need my shirt off for this? Probably right? At least for the bandaging.” "Yes, I need your shirt off. And probably whatever underthings you have on beneath. I promise to be a perfect gentleman, or at least as much of one as Gideon is on the job." It didn't look like Ione was bleeding out--Fabian had seen that kind of blood loss--so he bent to her will for now. "Let me," he said, and set about removing things and gently as he could, so Ione didn't injure herself further. "I blame the bloody Italians anyroad," Fabian groused, mostly so he could keep talking and keep her talking and distract her from what he was doing. "I know the glass is one of their native specialties, but even with strengthening spells, it's not a very enduring material. Too easy to break. This is why I always set that kind of binding in stone or jewel. They don't shatter nearly as easily." “You’re not the first man to say that to me. They always promise to behave,” she replied with a small snort of laughter. She dutifully stopped struggling with her shirt, and raised her arms so that he could get it off of her. Thankfully she also had her back to him, so that he couldn’t see how badly she was wincing and cringing at doing so. He was lucky (or maybe unlucky as the case may be) that she was wearing a bra today. Thankfully all he had to do was unhook it, and she could just slip it off her shoulders. She’d probably need a new one though, it was stained with blood as well. “Just throw the shirt away. I’m definitely not trying to get the stains out of that.” She wasn’t exactly covering up, but clearly not flashing him either. Mostly she just didn’t care, and honestly she was too much in pain to really give a shit. She mostly just wanted it to be done, so he’d give her the damn pain potion and then maybe a whisky. “You’ve got a point there. Blaming Italians is fine with me. I’d curse the lot of them right now, if I could.” Good grief. “At least you’re not digging this out of my stomach or something. I suppose I should feel grateful that I had the reflex to fucking turn around.” Fabian used a corner of the shirt to wipe away enough blood to see Ione's injury clearly. "I'm grateful you had the time, too. If you hadn't, we wouldn't be discussing whether I was going to have Gideon over. You'd be at Mungo's." He made a tsking noise at the size of the injury. "You won't be wearing anything low in the back for a while. I hope I don't leave a scar." It took him a few moments to be sure there was no glass left in the wound, by visual inspection, and then by spell. Gideon really was better at this sort of thing, but even a cut this large was just a cut, and Fabian knew how to seal them. Fabian did it gently as he could, the energy pouring through him to seal the long cut. He'd been party to the spell that had broken as well, so his resources were limited, and he knew it. There was another tsk as Fabian inspected his handiwork. "I won't say you're good as new, but I think if you lay off backless robes for the spring season, you can get away with calling it an old duelling scar." There was probably more dried blood than blood pouring from the wound. It wasn’t actually gushing or anything. Lucky for him. “I’ll wear whatever I’d like. Some people like back scars, I’ll have you know.” She gasped, when he started poking and prodding. Yeah, no kidding Gideon was better at this sort of thing. She didn’t actually want to be half naked around him though, truth be told. Gripping the couch as tightly as she could, she focused on the fact that he was healing her. As long as the cut was sealed, that was all that mattered. “Such a pity that my back was my nicest feature. And for the record, your fingers are a bit like tiny sausages. You could do with being slightly more gentle,” she said teasingly. “Really though, thank you. I’m not ungrateful. Your hands are just lovely. Now if you wouldn’t mind getting me a shirt.. Unless you’ve just decided to make your home into a nudist colony..” "No, but if you need me to, I can take off my shirt too." Instead of doing so, Fabian drew Molly's afghan, which was sitting over one arm of the sofa, over to Ione so she wasn't half naked or, more importantly, cold. "I'm going to get a cloth and wash your back off, and then I'll switch you into pyjamas. Fortunately that thing didn't shatter into slivers or I'd be picking them out of your back all evening." He handed her the potion. "I think you can drink this now." Taking the afghan, she draped it over herself and finally turned back to look at him, now that she was all covered. “Haven’t I suffered enough?” she asked, reaching out to take the potion. “I guess I’ll consider myself lucky. If I feel anything poking, I’ll let you know.” While he was gone, she tried very hard not to guzzle the whole thing down at once. It tasted like absolute horridness, but she managed to get most of it down. She settled back as best as she could, feeling the relief wash over her. That was much better. Fabian brought back a basin of water, an old flannel he was ready to give up, bandages in case the seal broke (better safe than sorry), and a towel. "Turn back round," he suggested, and settled back onto the table he'd been using as an impromptu chair, distributing the things he'd brought so he could use them as needed. "Do you think you can keep food down, or tea, after that?" With a sigh, she tugged the afghan down again and turned around to put her back to him. Right. She’d forgotten about getting cleaned up. But it was better than having blood stuck to her for the rest of the day. “I think so. Maybe start with tea, then work my way up to food.” Her stomach had been in knots all day, but she was hoping that it was starting to settle. The shock of it all, the pain, and really the worry that she was going to get fired had all been mixed together. Fabian dipped the flannel in the warm water. "I'll clean you up first, then tea and digestives, and if you do all right with that, something more substantial. Then sleep. Do you like piano music? I can play for you if that'll help you drift off. Or just stay with you." As he spoke, he was already at work, lightly dabbing dried blood off her back, more carefully after her criticism of his earlier work. “You’re a regular nurse. That sounds fine to me. I like piano music, but you can stay with me too. I mean.. If you want.” It wasn’t going to take much for her to fall asleep after all of this. She’d almost said something smart about him being gentle, but since he actually was being gentle, she kept her comments to herself. “Thank you.. For all of this. I’m not sure what I would have done, if you hadn’t been there.” Well she would have gone home, and then been tended to by her mother, or one of the house elves. “I really should have seen that coming. I don’t know why I didn’t.” "Because nobody expects the other party, or parties, to a contract binding to be bloody incompetents, Ione. And I don't mean you. Whatever you think you did wrong, if you'd done it perfectly that still would have blown up in your face. Your mum is going to hear about this but what she's going to hear is what my dad's going to hear when he asks about it: the problem was on their end. Not yours." Fabian made a disgusted noise; it took him a moment to realise that could be taken as a comment on her state and not on the failed working. "Everybody in this field has a few enchantments and bindings blow up in their face. Don't ask about the time I was blind for three days. Or do, just not tonight. Or better yet, ask Gideon sometime and see what he has to say about it because it was pretty funny from his end, I'm told." Had it really been incompetence on their end? Maybe it had been on purpose, for all she knew. Of course she didn’t know those people from adam, only in an official sense. Though honestly she wasn’t too worried this time about her mother being upset. This time it was her own pride that had taken a hit. She didn’t quite blame herself for it, but she didn’t think herself completely innocent of it all either. She just couldn’t shake the idea that she could have done something more. “I suppose that you’re right. I know it happens to everyone. I guess I just thought I was better than that. Apparently not.” It was humbling to be human. “You were blind? Oh dear. Not your pretty face.” Ione was going to ask Gideon though. No doubt about that. "Yeah, it was a backlash thing. No external injury, or at least none I knew about." Fabian shrugged, then realised Ione couldn't see it from their relative positions. "Anyroad, Ione, you're good at the technical side of this. You never get out of client service completely in our business, but you could do a masterwork and just do technical research forever after. Not as isolated as Mysteries, but you could do a lot less forward-facing work. What happened today happens to all of us, no matter how good they are, now and again." He finished bandaging up her freshly-clean back and summoned her a pair of his old pyjamas: soft and well-worn, and oversized on her person. "How's that?" he asked. “So it was purely a magical spell that did it? Not like pieces of glass slicing into your eye?” She wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be better or not. Once he was done cleaning her up, she reached up and took the pyjamas from him. “I can do that myself, thank you.” She was not having anyone dress her. It was bad enough that he had to clean her up. She would have done it herself, if it hadn’t been somewhere she couldn’t reach. Slowly Ione started to put on the too big for her pjs. “And by technical research, do you mean just looking into things needed for a case? Because I could stand to be in a library all day.” Her mother wouldn’t approve, even if she was a Ravenclaw. “Thank you, Fabian. I really do appreciate everything.” Fabian chose that moment to turn away, so he wasn't accidentally ogling her. "My pleasure. I mean honestly that's half my day at this point anyway. Half for reading up and planning bindings; a quarter for client relations, and a quarter for actual binding work. It rarely works out as 4-2-2 in a single day, but over several weeks it averages out. That's still a lot of client time, but I don't mind it as much as you, I think." Still carefully not looking at her, he added. "I'm going to go downstairs and get the tea I promised you now." Being ogled didn’t seem to matter much to her, though she probably would have given him a really good teasing about it, if he had. If only the world had been different, and she might have actually been disappointed that he didn’t take a peek. There were a lot of things, she would have wanted, if the world was different.. Ione settled back on the couch, and shut her eyes. “Okay. If I’m asleep, just wake me up. I really do want the tea, and I hate it cold.” But it was getting very hard for her to stay awake. "That," Fabian said from partway down the stairs, "is what warming charms are for." |