[PRP] Unjust Virulence (Ganyma + Rasali)

[Sypon]

Day came and went, and Ganyma was out like a rock for all of it. His dreamscape was dark and murky, with occasional splashes of green and teal here and there. Shouts from the forest rang out far away and were gone. This was the sole extent of his dreams – none of which popped into his head when he dazedly awoke in the evening. Ganyma felt a sore stiffness in his arms. He was disoriented, immediately twitching awake when it occurred to him that he was in an unfamiliar recuperacoon. A soft grey shoulder was directly in front of him – hair caught in his mouth.

“Ppffaff!” Coughed Ganyma lightly. He squeezed his arms, finding Rasali nearby in the tight confines of the recuperacoon. The tealblood blinked awake rapidly and was now perfectly aware of the aches and pains in his body. In his perfectly untouched body.

Ganyma was sore, but his muscles felt different than before. They felt stronger and more resolute. Using his powers ripped apart his sinews and tied them back together. He was rebuilt. It was as though yesterday’s misadventures had been a very painful, but very effective workout. Ganyma felt his own arms, his shoulder, his clavicle. He winced with pain. Regrowing would take time still. But, he wasn’t dead. He certainly wasn’t.

“Rasali?” Ganyma whispered. He hoped she wouldn’t be irritated at him for waking her up… But he wasn’t sure he could get out of the recuperacoon without smothering her with his torso. Ganyma poked her in the shoulder, sheepishly wiggling in the confines of her sleeping space.  

[seekingCylem]

”Mmnff… Hn?” Rasali wiggled at the contact, but found herself stuck up against the wall of the recuperacoon. Unable to escape the poking, Rasali slowly opened her eyes. It clearly took her a moment to even see Ganyma, much less register his presence. ”Mnnymaa..? ‘NMA! Ganyma!” Rasali jolted into awakeness, pushing herself up on her hands and knees. The events of last night came flooding back to her as she took advantage of her position to inspect Ganyma for any remaining wounds. He looked perfectly fine. Rasali sat up on her knees dumbly. She questioned whether or not last night even happened. Ganyma had to have ended up in her recuperacoon somehow.

Rasali looked at Ganyma. ”How are you feeling?” The question was so simple given the circumstances, Rasali felt dumb for saying it.  

[Sypon]

Ganyma laughed and shifted around in the recuperacoon. Rasali's movement was better than her being a dead weight. He stretched his arms above his head and felt the pinch where he was shot just yesterday. With a hiss, Ganyma brought his arm back in.

"Uhh... Better. Feels like I got shot a few times, but... Like... Not yesterday." Ganyma smiled sheepishly. "Can I grab some pills and wash up? I, uh... I owe you an explanation ... 'N ... Yeah..."

He had already begun climbing out of the recuperacoon. Squelching out of the device, Ganyma stood appraising the room. He'd made quite a mess. "I'm sorry for all of this!" He mumbled. Ganyma scratched the back of his head and made his way around the pile of pillows and the discarded snuggleplane on the ground. There was very clearly a large bleeding man in here at some point. Ganyma sighed, more embarrassed than anything. Well, more in pain than anything, but embarrassment made a close second.  

[seekingCylem]

Rasali combed globs of sopor slime out of her hair with her fingers as Ganyma readjusted himself. She could hardly believe she was even having this conversation. Why should she even bother getting out of the recuperacoon when she was so obviously just going to wake up again?

Ganyma admitted to owing Rasali an explanation. Her expression flattened immediately as he trailed off. ”Damn right,” was all she could muster.

She followed Ganyma out of the recuperacoon. ”Meh—leave it for now. Last thing I want is for you to strain something and reopen your five-kajillion bullet wounds that you’re definitely going to tell me about while I get breakfast ready.” Rasali sidestepped the bluish stain on the floor as she passed Ganyma on her way to the nutritionblock. She put on more tea and pulled a box of pancake mix down from one of the cabinets.

Rasali turned back to Ganyma and leaned against the counter while cradling a bowl of wet pancake mix and a wooden spoon. She began swirling the mixture in the bowl and raised her eyebrows at Ganyma as far as they would go.  

[Sypon]

Ganyma rubbed off some of the slick goo from his skin and frowned. He would typically shower, but she seemed persistent. He owed it to her, at least. Cleaning off would have to wait.

“It was only, like… Three or four bullet wounds…” He mumbled. Ganyma slipped onto his knees in front of Rasali’s table and tried to get comfortable, gingerly pulling on his (Rasali’s) sweatpants and scooting around. The pain in his clavicle was making his normal bad posture impossible to maintain. Hunching over while sitting was a pain – leaning on his arm was a pain – Ganyma sighed and eventually just laid on the floor, head resting on one of Rasali’s many pillows.

The last thing Ganyma wanted to do was endanger his dear friend. He had to pick and choose the details carefully. He’d already let slip about the rebels (whoops, why could he have not said it was a hunting accident? Stupid Ganyma), so that was out the window. Ganyma tried his best to think of a crafty solution, clearly stalling for time to any outside observer.

“Well, um…” He began. This was tough. “I was, uh, involved in the rebels. We were in Old Hemisect, tryin’ to set up a good spot and stuff ‘n things got real hairy. You probably heard about it on the news… An’ uh…”

Ganyma bit his lip and rolled his head back to stare at the ceiling. It felt like he was talking with Dr. Resmem again. Lay on the couch, say everything, Ganyma. But he couldn’t say everything. He had to be smart right now.

“They did a lot of stuff I didn’t agree with. There was kids there – kids I knew, too, on both sides; kids used like cannon fodder n’ such, innocents gettin’ killed, n’ just… It got hairy. But, uh…! Afterwards, I went to rehab. The Old Hemisect Rehab Center. Proved I was thinkin’ straight and got me on the right path, and helped me to not feel… You know…” Ganyma frowned. The nights immediately following the struggle were dark. “But after that, one of ‘em, a dangerous greenblood, caught up to me. Ambushed me n’ tried to kill me. I got away, he, uh… I think he was—I think…”

Lightbulb. Ganyma’s poker face was terrible, but in his moment of perceived genius he couldn’t be stopped. “He died. Yeah,” he nodded solemnly. That would solve Rasali digging for answers and getting involved with the rebels! There’s no trail to follow if that trail is dead. Ganyma patted himself on the back mentally and cleared his throat, shifting on his pillow. Her safety was secured.

“So that’s where I am now. That’s all, really,” Ganyma tried to downplay his effort. Rehashing it was exhausting enough.  

[seekingCylem]

Rasali tried her damnedest not to snort at the phrase “only three or four bullet wounds.” She instead focused her disdain for the whole scenario into beating her pancake mix into a smooth butter.

Rasali’s stirring slowed as Ganyma mentioned the rebels. More than that, he was in Old Hemisect and clearly speaking of the construction debacle she had also partaken in. How had they not run into each other? As much as Rasali empathized with the strife that ordeal had wrought, she thought better about announcing her status to a now former rebel operative if she could help it. Ganyma obviously didn’t want anything more to do with the rebels, and considering the skirmish the put him in Rasali’s hive, it was probably for the best. Ganyma must not have picked up on Rasali’s mention of the Phoenix Initiative by name when she was helping him last night. Rasali felt a ping of relief and realized she probably should keep her mouth shut on these matters more often.

Rasali stopped stirring completely and set her bowl aside when Ganyma started reminiscing over Old Hemisect. It felt like another lifetime ago to Rasali, but as Ganyma spoke she could hear the echos of bombs and falling buildings like it was yesterday. Rasali repressed a shudder and pulled out a frying pan from a lower cabinet.

She wanted to spit at the name of the Rehab Center. That place was obviously such a front. Since when had the government ever tried to do anything good to the minds and hearts of its people? Rasali’s frying pan landed on the burner with more of a clatter than she’d intended. She looked back to Ganyma to make sure he knew she was still listening. As long as Ganyma felt like he was being helped…

Gray eyes flicked up from the floor next to Ganyma as he finally got around to mentioning the troll who’d shot him. “One of ‘em.” Rasali hung on every word of Ganyma’s, hoping for a description of the b*****d she could use as a point of reference…

“He died.”

Rasali’s face visibly fell. ”He… He wha…” Somehow the prospect of the shooter having kicked it hadn’t occurred to Rasali in the slightest. Had she been that caught up in the idea of beating them herself? She couldn’t help but feel rather dissatisfied at such an ending to the story.

”H-He died? Like, you killed him?” Rasali needed clarification. Ganyma did have healing powers, her mind reeled, with how bad he looked after the fight, she supposed it wasn’t too much of a stretch the other guy must’ve been left in an even worse state.

Rasali’s kettle started to rattle. Without looking away from Ganyma, she flicked off the burner before it could have a chance to interrupt the conversation.  

[Sypon]

Ganyma scratched his nose. Come to think of it, he wasn’t really sure if Kursha had kicked the swill-bottle or not after he had done quite the number on him in the forest. He had always just assumed that Kursha, like a cockroach, was a disgusting insect that just couldn’t be killed. There was the very real possibility that he was dead. Ganyma could only hope.

“Ye-up.” Ganyma confirmed. “Can’t imagine he survived after all of that,”

He reclined again and exhaled a huge breath out his mouth. Hopefully that would have been the end of that. His eyes wandered around the room and Ganyma became more aware of the little annoyances about his state. He smelled awful, he was dreadfully hungry (but his stomach pains may have been exacerbated by his wounds) and everything was either greasy, sticky or clammy. He rolled up Rasali’s sweatpants to his knees to let his legs have some breathing room and sat waiting for breakfast.

“Anyhoo, that’s about it. Thanks for lookin’ after me, you’re a real pal. I mighta not made it without you.” He smiled, and with effort, wrapped his arms around his knees.  

[seekingCylem]

”W… Well then…” That was that, Rasali supposed. She moved her kettle off of its hot burner and replaced it with the frying pan. She carefully poured a couple globs of pancake batter onto its surface and set the bowl aside.

What an anticlimactic ending, at least from Rasali’s point of involvement. She pulled out a couple of mugs, filling them with hot water and tea bags. No caffeine for either of them tonight. She brought one of the mugs over to Ganyma and set it on the table.

”Of course!” Rasali beamed, completely at odds with her frazzled terror from last night. ”What are pals for? Granted you seemed to have done most of the healing work all on your own. I just provided the clean pants and painkillers.”

Rasali spun around on her heel. ”Also, breakfast!” She peeled the completed pancakes off of the frying pan and onto a clean plate. She filled the frying pan with more batter and retrieved syrup and forks.

”Oh right—I hate to be a bother, but would you mind grabbing the newspaper? You can go ahead and just toss it in that pile over there with the others. I haven’t really been reading much lately, but I can’t just cancel the paper. Those paperboys work so hard…” Rasali trailed off into muttering while gesturing loosely at the overflowing crate of newspapers next to the back door with her spatula.

Soon enough the pancake plate had turned into a pancake tower. The frying pan and mixing bowl were banished to the sink to be cleaned later. Rasali and Ganyma had more important matters to be attending to. She set the tower down at the center of the table with plates and forks for her and Ganyma on either side.  

[Sypon]

Ganyma smiled. “Pancakes!” He repeated. Pancakes made everything better, and Rasali made the best, most buttery pancakes he could ask for.

“Not a problem,” Ganyma returned. With a loud grunt, he stumbled to his feet. The tealblood hobbled to Rasali’s door and opened it a crack, peering outside. It was a beautiful, clear night in the woods. The scent of the morning dew and freshly fallen leaves was an astounding smell to behold, and even the faint smell of the hot springs brought back memories. Rasali lived in a wonderful place. But it was dangerous. So, so dangerous. With a wry smile, he located the paper on the other side of the door and popped back into Rasali’s hive.

Nothing in the news today of note. Regina’s successful new restaurant line, some more improvements to Civisect, and another (empty) article proclaiming that the Alternian return to space flight was just on the brink. He tossed the paper into the pile. Suddenly, something caught Ganyma’s eye.

He blinked. The words DROUGHT clearly blotted out in black and white below him. “Rasali… How old are these papers?”

Ganyma took a step towards the pile and knelt down. The sensation was a numb one. He leafed through the top papers with his forefinger and thumb, and then brushed them aside. There was the paper: “CHITTENTOWN DROUGHT OVER”. The picture, in stark black and white, showed a young boy with bells and small antlers being hoisted by many troll hands out of an underground shaft.

Throat dry… Hands shaking. Ganyma stood up and pored over the picture before he scanned the caption below. “Regina Marian leads successful campaign to end drought. Pictured: Redblood and local Chittentown youth, Sinter Heilig, is lifted out of the disaster averted thanks to our glorious Queen.”

Now, Ganyma’s whole body was shaking.  

[seekingCylem]

”Hm?” Rasali wasn’t really listening to Ganyma as she sat down to pancakes. ”Oh, heh… Yeah, um, I’ve been kind of behind on my hivekeeping lately…” Rasali chuckled nervously. Her hive’s cleanliness levels took a bit of a nosedive after Old Hemisect. It was hard enough to get out of her recuperacoon. Recycling had not been at the forefront of her thinkpan.

Yeesh. That was a bad time. That said, Rasali still wasn’t really feeling like busting out the mop and broom at the moment. Maybe after pancakes and a nice long bath she’d do a little sprucing. She did need to take care of that big ole bloodstain, after all…

Speaking of—Rasali looked up from her half-eaten pancake to see Ganyma still hunched over the recycling bin, quivering.

Rasali immediately dropped her fork and stood up from the table. ”G-Ganyma!? Are you okay? D-did- Your wounds didn’t reopen, did they!?” Rasali’s mind jumped to the worst-possible scenario and she rushed over to Ganyma’s side.

She found him gripping an especially old newspaper. Rasali dully remembered the issues with Chittentown’s drought. She’d even received a note from the Phoenix Initiative about it—one she ignored. It was still too soon for Rasali to have hopped on board that train again. She’d seen enough lowblooded cities get shafted in the past sweep.

Had Ganyma been involved somehow? He said he’d turned tail after Old Hemisect, though. Rasali’s lips pressed together in thought. ”Ganyma?” She tried again, quieter, more cautious.  

[Sypon]

Ganyma kept staring. He bit his lip to try and keep the tears from welling up, but it was no use. Ganyma put a hand to his mouth and sobbed. “He’s…” Ganyma choked up and laughed through a dry throat and chapped lips. He clutched the newspaper with one hand and shook it vigorously, halfway between desperate sobbing and joyous laughing. Bubbling up inside of him was a feeling of relief so intense that Ganyma could hardly process it. A weight – three weights, perhaps! Were lifted from his heavy shoulders. It couldn’t be true, but it was here in black and white. Sinter Heilig was alive. His old friend, an innocent, the redblooded, the royalist, the miraculous Sinter Heilig was alive.

Brightmares played back in Ganyma’s head in vivid color, reframed. They would always be horrifying, but now they weren’t all consuming. As he snapped back to Rasali hovering next to him, Ganyma looked her in the eyes through a stream of tears that slipped down his face.

“S-S-Sinter… From… Old Hemisect… Bombing… Alive…!” He managed through hyperventilation. Ganyma sprung on Rasali. She was immediately wrapped in his arms.  

[seekingCylem]

Ganyma started crying and Rasali began to panic. Before she could fret too much, however, Ganyma started laughing as well. Rasali was at a complete loss. She knelt down on the floor looking up helplessly at Ganyma when he finally turned to face her.

”Sinter..?” Rasali had never heard that name before. Wait a second, was that one of the kids Ganyma had mentioned getting bo-

”EEEP-MPGH!” Rasali was suddenly smothered in Ganyma's shoulder. Whatever was happening, it seemed to have improved his mood tenfold. Or maybe he'd just snapped. Either way Ganyma appeared to be in significantly less pain, so Rasali let it go. Like how she hoped Ganyma would let her go.

After a good long moment of air deprivation, Rasali started trying to tap out on Ganyma's arm.

”Glad you're feeling better, Gan!” Rasali squeaked out in a small voice. ”Shall we celebrate with pancakes?” 'Please.'  

[Sypon]

“Yes…! Yes…” Ganyma’s chin wobbled and he released Rasali. Immediately a rush of pain slammed into his arm and he wiped some fresh tears out of his eyes. Pancakes, butter, ample amounts of maple syrup – that would make it better.

“Sinter was a buddy. Thought he got lost in… Old Hemisect…” Ganyma was still stunned. He held the paper in his hand as he wobbled over to the table, dropping down to the level of her table with it remaining in his sight. A shaky breath. Ganyma shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t… I can’t believe it.”

In his whirlwind of thoughts, he looked up at Rasali beaming. Sinter looked so much older! He was okay! He quickly flipped through all of the disasters, shady dealings and potential harm that could have befallen him since the horrid drought. Nope. Nothing in the news. He was alive. He was alive, alive, alive! Ganyma smiled dumbly, his brow shaking with relief as he steadied himself and tried not to keep crying over his now-ample plate of pancakes. He took a big bite. They tasted so good, he could cry.

“Nngh…” Ganyma sniffled. “R-real good, Rasali!”  

[seekingCylem]

Called it. Rasali felt herself getting caught up in Ganyma’s elation. It was something good to counter the bad that happened last night! Balance was restored to the universe.

Upon being released, Rasali wobbled over to her side of the table. Pancake time. ”Ha! Thanks. Can always count on the powdered stuff to turn out alright.”

Rasali perked up suddenly. She hastily swallowed the mouthful of pancakes she’d been chewing. ”Hey—you gonna get in touch with him? That Sinter kid? You said he was a buddy. If you’re getting so worked up after all this time you should go talk to him!” Rasali started cutting up more bite-sized pieces of pancake with gusto. ”Send him a letter or something! He lives in Chittentown, right?”

Rasali was always excited to see Ganyma excited. She wanted to ride this happiness train as far as it would go.  

[Sypon]

Ganyma paused short with a pancake hanging out of his mouth. He let it drop. “Oh, geez. I dunno about that; it was so long ago…” Ganyma mumbled. He flushed a deep teal.

As much as Ganyma had thought about Sinter in the time he’d thought he’d lost him, and even before that, he never thought he’d ever have the chance to see him again. What would he say? He was still absorbing the information, after all – and being on different sides, how would he figure Sinter wouldn’t turn him in? Would he end up blabbing about the rebels? Ganyma imagined the date beginning with Ganyma confessing his involvement in the explosion, and ending with him running for his life in Four Fronds. He gulped.

“I don’t know what I’d say. I wasn’t exactly… On his side for a long time… Plus, what if he doesn’t remember me?” Ganyma’s mouth twisted into a sad frown. He poured some more maple syrup on his pancake and shoved it into his mouth, deep in thought. This was a sticky situation. All of this.

It just seemed like it wouldn’t go right – even for the optimistic Ganyma. The whole “Sinter Situation” was always clouded in a kind of pessimism.