Stahma Tarr is no one's fool (noonesfool) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2015-09-25 23:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, kenya rosewater, nikolai luzhin, stahma tarr |
Who: Nikolai, Kenya and Stahma
What: An injured Stahma seeks help in the one place she feels comfortable doing so.
When: Directly after this log on September 14th
Where: Kenya's home
Warnings: Blood, stab wound, medical care for the wound including a needle
Status: Complete upon posting
After stumbling her way out of Svetlana’s apartment and making it back to her car, she ordered the driver to take her to Kenya’s house. She had to tell him twice because the first time she gave him the order in Castithan. The second time she managed it in Russian. She slumped in the back seat, keeping one hand pressed against the wound, doing her best to stop the bleeding.
“Shtako,” she cursed and hissed a bit. She was definitely starting to feel the pain from the wound. Stahma didn’t think it was life threatening, but even if it was, she sure as hell wasn’t going to go to a hospital. And she didn’t even know how to explain what exactly had happened. She wasn’t in her right mind and she was more unravelled than she’d care to admit. Her dreams had taken their toll, and she knew they weren’t done yet.
Stahma couldn’t quite handle her dreams, but she was keeping them to herself. She didn’t want to talk about them nor did she really know how to. And now that she’d killed Kenya in them? She really didn’t want to talk about them. As she sat there in the car, she actually started crying. It was partially due to the pain she was feeling and partially due to the feelings from her dreams. It had been years since she’d last actually cried like this.
“We have arrived, my lady. Do you wish me to help you to the door?” The driver asked, concern on his face and in his voice. He really didn’t know what to do with a crying and wounded Stahma.
“No,” she managed to respond. “See to getting the blood washed out of the car. I will be fine.” She opened the door and got out. Keeping a hand pressed to her abdomen, Stahma stumbled to Kenya’s door where she managed to ring the doorbell. Starting to feel light headed from the blood loss, Stahma collapsed on the front step, her red blood having stained her clothes by this point.
***
Kenya heard the bell and went to investigate. She hadn’t been expecting anyone. Nikolai was already here, and she didn’t invite people over. Rarely, anyways, she liked to keep her house hers. A safe haven for her and Nikolai. And she didn’t take to people breaking that. So she was prepared to read the riot act to whoever showed up on her doorstep.
The wind died in her sails, though, as she opened the door and saw who it was on her doorstep. She called over her shoulder in Russian, her words clipped. She didn’t panic, Kenya kept a calm head despite it all. “Nikolai! I need you to get the medkit from the bathroom!” she didn’t know what had happened but there was blood. She figured she’d need that.
She wasn’t a big woman, and she wasn’t terribly strong, but emergencies lent her strength as she leaned down to scoop Stahma up in her arms. It took effort, but she could manage to get her into the living room and deposit her as carefully as possible on her couch. “Stahma! What happened?” fingers moving deftly, trying to find what the cause of the blood was.
Her voice tinged with worry as she called out again. “Towels, too! Hot water!” she bit her lip as she waited for Nikolai, fingers moving to help press on the wound once she found it. “Oh Stahma.” she sighed out.
***
Bloody visitors weren't uncommon among the Vor; Nikolai Luzhin had seen to his fair share of wounds without assistance from any medical practitioner. He made certain to keep moving at a decent clip, not rushing, never rushing. He wouldn't run for help for anyone---except possibly someone precious to him. Who knew if anyone was precious to him any longer? It felt strange to him to think he had a precious person.
He collected everything he needed into a basin which he filled with water nearly hot enough as to be boiling. Nikolai also took care to grab a bottle of vodka from the bar while he strode over to the sofa. His eyes roved Stahma's body, taking in her pale -too pale- face and the way she was sprawled indelicately from a combination of blood loss and possibly pain. It took a moment for it to fully register she was hurt.
Stahma seemed as invincible as her father too often.
"No use asking how it happened. Does not matter now. Clean it first. Here. I will cut away the clothes from the wound. Easier to treat a wound which can be seen. Pointless to dab at the invisible."
He took the simple knife from its inside pocket of his shirt, making short work of Stahma's to reveal the abdominal wound. Stabbing. Close range. Inexpert. He'd have called it slipshod except that wasn't a word in his vocabulary.
Nikolai had not been in America that long.
~*~
Under normal circumstances, Stahma would have called first to at least tell Kenya she was coming. Though considering her current state, the thought had been the furthest from her mind. All she could think about was getting help, and she knew Kenya and Nikolai would be able to help her because of course a hospital was out of the question. She was not about to weave a fabricated story for some nosy doctor regarding what happened.
She didn’t even want to tell Kenya and Nikolai what had happened.
To Kenya’s favor, while Stahma was on the taller side of things, she was skinny and relatively easy to move when the proper situation arose for it. She whimpered as Kenya moved her, which turned into a cry of pain as Kenya applied pressure to the wound. Along with the cry of pain she also let out a string of Castithan that was very much unlady-like. If Kenya had dreamed enough to understand Castithan, she would probably think what Stahma had just said was more in character for Datak.
Once Nikolai arrived, she moved her hands away from her wound so he could get at it. She did, of course, look down at the wound once he’d cut her shirt away from it. And then came another curse in Castithan as she rolled her head back and closed her eyes.
“Letter opener,” she said, managing that in Russian. The wound was obviously not a very clean-cut one given a letter opener wasn’t as sharp as a knife would be. Though the fact Stahma had survived getting here was evidence that there was minimal internal damage done. No vital organs had been hit, so once the bleeding was stopped and the wound closed, she would be alright.
***
Kenya got down to work as soon as he cut away the clothing, she was quiet as she worked, wondering where she’d heard the language before. She wasn’t focused enough to think of her dreams, but she filed it away for later. Right now she was concerned with getting the wound cleaned, sanitized and closed.
She clicked her tongue at the letter opener comment, wondering just who and why someone had done this but not asking, because Nikolai was right. Talk later, fix now. Kenya would, of course, prefer Stahma to come to her with any issue over a hospital, so she didn’t mind in the least.
Things could be replaced - friendships and more cannot be.
“I know, I know.” She soothed in Russian as she carefully cleaned the wound. She didn’t think it was going to be a fatal wound, or really too dangerous as long as she could suture it closed enough. “I’m not sure if there’s anything to numb you, so this will probably hurt.” she looked up at her friend, and Nikolai, frowning a little.
***
Blood was not flowing from the wound freely enough for Nikolai to be worried Stahma was in mortal danger. She was in pain. She was not going to feel well for some days, possibly a few weeks depending on how much she irritated her abdominal muscles around the wound. She was not going to die however and that was all which mattered to him.
He slipped between her and the couch, cradling her body between his legs as he drew her up where her back could rest against his chest. The position allowed him to take the cap off the vodka to hold it to her lips. It wasn't much of a painkiller, but Stahma wasn't known to be a drunkard either. From the sound of her language, she was having a hard enough time staying focused to make him think he shouldn't need more than a bit to get her to a point where she wouldn't care what treatment Kenya had to give her.
"Drink this, my beautiful woman," he murmured, "Is not so good as general anesthesia, but we? We are more than our bodies. We are more than pain. We are Russians. This too shall pass."
Nikolai held the bottle to Stahma's lips, careful not to pour before she could respond. The last thing he wanted was to make her ill if she was nauseated from the wound. It wasn't near her stomach and her intestines couldn't have been compromised or there would have been more smell. He'd seen enough men lose their guts to know how it smelled, looked, how they acted as they writhed in pain before dying.
"Kenya, you are thinking you should have practiced more your needlepoint, yes? I would hate to think you leave her scarred."
Jokes were hardly Nikolai's forte, but he wanted to make certain everyone was as comfortable as possible if he could.
~*~
This had been the very last thing she would have thought would’ve happened tonight. In a few hours, she’d no doubt realize her own folly. Stahma knew better than act rashly, but with pressure from her father as well as the stress of her dreams, she wasn’t thinking clearly. She would need to remedy that once she moved past this.
She would also need to ensure no one told her father about her being stabbed. Actually she didn’t want anyone outside of Nikolai, Kenya and Svetlana to know what had happened.
She whimpered in pain as Nikolai shifted her position, but she didn’t have it in her to resist. She knew it was moving her for her own good and so Kenya could better stitch the wound shut. There were still some tears rolling down her cheeks, but she was holding her own.
The offered vodka was indeed welcome. If she couldn’t be numb, then she’d rather be somewhat intoxicated so as not to really care about it. She took a long drink as Nikolai held the bottle to her lips. It burned as it went down, but she welcomed it. Stahma didn’t drink much, at least not more than a glass here and there, but she would gladly drink however much Nikolai was willing to pour for her.
“Do it,” she said, just wanting it to be over. She knew it would hurt, and she knew she was going to be sore for a while. Not to mention the clothes she was wearing were a total loss. She’d either need to borrow something from Kenya or Nikolai, or send someone to her house to get her some clothes. But either way, she certainly wasn’t going to be moving much tonight.
Hopefully Kenya wouldn’t mind her staying for the night.
***
Kenya waited until Nikolai moved her around to a better position and gave her the vodka. She wasn’t worried or nervous, she drew on an inner calm so that she could manage this without trouble. Kenya was a resourceful woman, she could probably handle anything people threw at her with a strange calm. She had a temper, but she didn’t show it often.
She couldn't help, though, but laugh at Nikolai’s words. “I suppose I should take up needlepoint in case this becomes a habit.” she teased as she threaded the needle after cleaning it with an alcohol wipe. She looked to Stahma. “Try not to move, but I think he’ll be able to hold you still enough. I apologize in advance, I am not a surgeon.” she said honestly.
Kenya would give Stahma clothing and set her up in a room, comfortable, so that she’d have a chance to sleep without worry. Nothing would get in here without her or Nikolai knowing. She also had no plans to tell anyone about this, when a friend lands on her doorstep bleeding, it wasn’t hard to figure out that this did not need to get spread around. Kenya was good at keeping secrets, so there would be no fear of that happening.
She began to stitch, moving quickly but with great care. She didn’t want to scar her too much if she could manage. Kenya’s hands were still, working without a single tremor or twitch. She was no surgeon but she could stitch someone up. She’d done it before, although she’d never expected to do it again.
***
"Good," Nikolai declared after taking a draw on the vodka bottle himself, "Is good work you do there. Should not marr her pretty skin too much."
He brought the bottle back to Stahma's lips in case she wanted a little more to help with the pain. The sutures were neatly done. They would hurt however, ache, since she had nothing to numb the skin where it had been pierced, pulled taut, and pierced again. Nikolai hated dry sutures. One of his many complaints in life was how much the fucking things ached when placed followed by how much they itched while healing.
If he had it his way, Nikolai would close all his wounds with glue. Sealants existed for all manner of things. He'd seen surgical glue which could work wonders. Seemed incredibly annoying not to have it to hand for when he was sliced, shot, or stabbed himself. Vor men had to learn to keep their complaining to a minimum. No one would respect a man who did nothing more than complain like a child.
"Think we should rest here a bit before moving to another place. Stitching never a good thing even when blind drunk. Moving after stitching? Hurts no matter how the moving happens. I'll carry you to a room when you have settled better, hhm?"
Nikolai wasn't really asking permission so much as allowing Stahma to know his plans and agree she understood them. It wouldn't do to have her try to fight him in her state.
~*~
Even if she’d wanted to move she sort of couldn’t. Her abdomen hurt and she was certain Nikolai would keep her from moving if necessary. Stahma kept an eye on Kenya so she could grit her teeth and brace herself for the first time the needle went in.
And oh, it hurt. Stahma did take another drink of the vodka and dug her hands into the couch. She whimpered, and as much as she wanted to jerk away from the pain, she remained as still as possible. She could handle the pain. She’d made it through childbirth, she could easily make it through this.
Again, she uttered some curses in Castithan, doing her best to keep herself focused on anything other than the needle stitching her wound shut. It would undoubtedly scar, and at some point in the future she’d probably need to explain to Datak how she’d gotten a scar there. But that would only come whenever they were reunited and going to have sex. If he’d even notice, anyway.
But for now, as Kenya was finishing the stitching, Stahma leaned heavily back against Nikolai. She knew he was telling her what he planned to do, and she didn’t have it in her to fight him on it. Stahma wanted to insist she could walk herself, part of her pride, but she doubted that Nikolai, or even Kenya, would let her walk somewhere under her own power tonight. Or at least not very far, anyway.
“Fine,” she responded to Nikolai, letting out a resigned sigh. Her pride was rather damaged and broken at the moment, and she really didn’t like it. But all she could do was to lay low and lick her wounds until she’d healed.
***
Kenya set her needle aside and carefully cleaned the wound of the blood that had shed while she had been working. She made a mental note to pick up some new supplies for the medkit before anything happened again. She hated having to suture people up. It was taxing work for all involved.
She cleaned her hands and sat back down opposite them so she could see them both. “Rest for a few moments. We will get you settled and you will rest. We will figure out the next steps later.” she waved a hand to say that later was not here and now, and could be handled when they got that far.
Kenya dried her hands on a towel then smiled, getting up once more to prepare the room for Stahma’s recovery. She made the bed comfortable, but easy to get in and out of, and set up water next to the bed. She busied herself putting together something for Stahma to wear to bed that was simple and comfortable.
A few minutes later she’d return. “When you think she is ready to move, the room is ready for her.” she said, looking at Nikolai and tilting her head at Stahma. “I am glad you came here for help.” spoken softly.
~*~
Soothing sounds were all Nikolai could offer Stahma under the circumstances. He wouldn't patronize her with stupid sayings about how this too shall pass or what a strong spirit she had. Stahma was not the type of woman to need such platitudes. They were a proud people; Stahma deserved to hold onto her pride for as long as possible. She would need it more than ever while healing since retaliation was not going to be easy to attain in the near future.
Orange County was not the Old Country.
People noticed when stabbings took place and the police investigated if someone was injured.
Looking up at Kenya, he quirked a brow, "Where would she to have gone? We are her family here. She comes to us when the need is real. That is what is family. Everything else is for fluttery birds who flit in and out. We are the kind who stick around to pick the last meat from the bones of the enemy. We are sem'ya. Family."
He would fight to the death for Stahma if that was what it would take. Nikolai would do it for his own pride, his own virtues such as were left of them. Her father be damned; he did love the woman. Stahma was her own personal best which he appreciated more than he could find words to express to her. She wasn't the kind of woman to need the words so much as the action regardless.
One of her many virtues to raise her in his esteem, Nikolai considered while holding her firmly in his arms.
~*~
Stahma was more than happy when Kenya had finished the stitches. There were a couple soft whimpers as she cleaned around the wound, but after that she simply relaxed back against Nikolai. She gave a slight nod to Kenya’s statement about figuring out the next steps in the future. However, when it came to any potential revenge factor, Stahma would insist there would be none.
She wasn’t thinking straight, even before the wound that brought her here and the vodka. Stahma had far too much going on inside of her emotionally speaking, but she was doing her very best to keep it all to herself. She rarely spoke of her dreams, and now she most certainly wouldn’t considering what she had done to Kenya in them.
It was difficult for her to maintain eye contact with Kenya. She felt such guilt, and it was proving somewhat difficult to keep it hidden. When Kenya went off to prepare a room, Stahma simply rested her head against Nikolai’s shoulder and closed her eyes. She tried to focus on her breathing, anything that would allow her to calm down and get her emotions back under full control.
By the time Kenya returned, Stahma hoped she was in better control of herself. At least as much as the pain and the alcohol would allow her to be.
“Yes. We are family. I would always come here when needed.” And Nikolai was right, where else would she have gone? There was no one else here that she trusted, and Nikolai and Kenya at least wouldn’t ask questions. At least not at the current moment. Those questions would no doubt come in the future, but not at this moment. For which she was glad of that.
“Thank you,” she said. Stahma didn’t thank people lightly, but in this current situation, it was more than warranted. And she meant the thanks for more than just helping her injury. It was for the hospitality, the warmth, and the lack of either of them pressing her on what had happened right now.
***
“Indeed.” She murmured as she sat down to watch them for a moment. She folded her hands and smoothed out the cloth under them. “I would have it no other way.” she nodded lightly at them. “Family is there when you need it, it is important.” she said, quietly noticing how Stahma was avoiding prolonged eye contact. She stored it away for later, but she attributed it to the whole mess and nothing else.
“When you are ready, we shall get you tucked in safely.” and then, Kenya would go about cleaning the place so there was no single trace left. Kenya was a rather effective cleaner, if it was one thing she learned from her time under various Madams, it was how to get rid of blood and other such stains of life.
Kenya smiled softly. “You need your rest, and If there’s anything I can get for you, please let me know.” and she was serious - if there was anything the woman needed, Kenya would get it for her anyway possible. It was how she showed her loyalty.
***
"Family is what our Stahma needs and what she shall have. I will watch over her tonight. You rest yourself, Kenya. No need for all of us to be awake."
Nikolai waited until he could feel Stahma breathing evenly, slowly, her body relaxed against his as the pain was ebbed away courtesy of the vodka and Kenya's fine stitching. She would ache, but she would survive. They were the kind of people who could survive seemingly insurmountable odds on nothing more than pure bravado. Image was half of what being from the Old Country was about.
He lifted her in his arms with as little jostling as possible. It was one smooth move to raise from the couch with her cradled like a young bride. Nikolai could have carried her for miles if necessary, but they were thankfully quite close to the spare room she'd be using in Kenya's personal home. There was no doubt in his mind she would be made comfortable courtesy of Kenya and her thoughtfulness.
She was a good woman.
"Hush now. I have you. We are safe. We are whole. We are home."
Nikolai took her to the bedroom prepared to wait out the night while ensuring she had all her needs met. What else was family to do when one of their own was injured?
Love and loyalty.
That was the meaning of family.