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 Posted: Mon Feb 23, 2015 6:51 am
And there is my answer, he thought disappointedly. Pain is the enemy.
He wondered if circumventing pain or effort was a commonplace mindset in this city - if most of his age chose to avoid certain tasks if they weren't absolutely necessary, or if getting someone else to perform their duties was an appreciable attitude. It might explain the instances of obesity I've been seeing. But there has to be more to it... Else why would a culture still exist if none of its citizens subscribe to work? I'm being too assumptive - this isn't an all-or-nothing affair. The city may have some under that impression, but it's impossible for this place to exist with the majority of its denizens avoiding all work. Additionally, I'm being too severe. It's possible only certain tasks are avoided, like her allergen to committing further pain on others. There lie some commonalities.
Shock read across her face unabated, mild as it was, which confused Shale marginally until she bashfully prefaced her acquiescence to his request with some self-deprecating nonsense. Shale quirked a brow, further puzzled by why she would voice that disclaimer entirely. Is she thinking that her own life isn't interesting or is she making that judgment for me? I don't know how much about others' lives is disseminated across social channels here. Maybe she instead chose to live vicariously.
"I hope you are not making that judgment for me," he commented coolly.
While she started to clean, Shale untied one of the leather bracelets fastened to his wrist and spread the strip out on the table. The tooled portions would retain their shape, he knew, but the bracelet itself aged plenty already and the leather lost some of its flexibility. Even well oiled, they never lasted beyond his years.
Pulling both strings apart from each other, he lifted the strip to his mouth and bit the leather lightly. There would be no need for further assault until more unbearable pains began by needle. In the interim, he listened to her words while he still heard them as portions of a tale - before pain reduced their content to simple white noise. Studying, school, friends. A very different life. I wonder if it's typical here. Is hosting others typical too? It is a strange world regardless.
A sharp and unexpected spike of pain stole his attentions from the vague reflection in the microwave. Glancing down, he noted a curved needle piercing through part of the wound and curving straight into the other side. She moved slowly, deliberately, which suggested her care and lack of experience in this venture. When the needle left his skin entirely, attached was a black thread that he felt pulling through the hole, and the tension felt no different than that of a piercing for him. Afterward she proceeded to knot it using the hemostats she held, not once but a total count of four, each time pausing or struggling with a knot she probably hadn't made previously. And given the length of wound, he would surely know most of her life before the task finished.
Shale only bit harder. Her words provided a focal point beyond the terrible pain of stitches, but only if he drove himself to concentrate liberally and visualize her stories as acutely as possible. It wasn't easy with the generalizations she seemed prone to, but that only lent to the challenge and demanded all the more attention from the wounds.
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Posted: Mon Feb 23, 2015 6:27 pm
His statement, delivered in cool reproach, brought color to her cheeks. Orah dropped her eyes as her lips thinned in embarrassment, putting away the water bottle with the last of the blood cleaned away.
"I don't really know what you find interesting or not... but people don't generally take an interest in me, so I assumed it would be the same for you." She said as she readied her needle and thread, following the instructions she read from her laptop screen. There was a stubborn, defensive set to her chin as she returned and readied herself to set needle to flesh, her fingers touching lightly to his skin.
It was at that point, finally getting a unblocked view of his wound, that Orah felt herself grow queasy. Her stomach clenched and rolled, the color that had risen to her face draining away just as quickly. Her hands shook and it forced her to pause, breathing deeply through her mouth. She could see herself taking that first stitch in her mind, see the needle going through his flesh... and it made her skin crawl. This was stupid... she had learned to overcome this reflex and she had done stitches thousands of times! She should not still be bothered by something so mundane.
Closing her eyes, Orah took a deep breath and forced her hands to steady, following through the motion of that first stitch. Needle through flesh, thread tugging it closed... the knots to hold it in place... the familiar motions came back as she performed them and the second stitch was easier, if not entirely comfortable.
"I was born in Ireland." She said suddenly, finding a need to distract herself from what she was doing. "In Dublin, actually. Its was where my Da's family was from. I remember living in a condo on the fourth floor of a complex, because there were large windows down one wall and you could see so much of the city from them and the balcony outside. I don't remember much, but I do remember how green it was there... and it rained a lot. Sunshine was like a treasure, when it showed. My mother would open the sliding door on nice days and a breeze would make the wind chime ring while she was cooking in the kitchen. My little brother would be in a baby swing making that rhythmic sort of thumping sound while I played on the hardwood floor with some dolls. I'd pretend like they were ice skating, or tap dancing..."
The memory was fuzzy edged and warm, full of more sensory information than any higher thought. Three years old, she'd been... there was not a lot that she remembered from that time. Maybe it would distract him, though... give him something to think about and concentrate on. She closed his wound with slow, careful motions, trying not to think about the feel of the needle through his skin and desensitize herself to it. She was only marginally successful with it.
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Posted: Wed Feb 25, 2015 2:57 pm
'If a handful of people dislike what they hear, then the rest of the populace must be the same'. That is what I hear, but I hope not what she thinks. Such conclusions so easily jumped are dangerous. She and Slate might have that much in common, though if she follows the same fate...
You need not decide for me, he wanted to say, with teeth chewing leather into deep ruts of pain and saliva. His fingernails bit into the counter's underside where the formica refused to touch. It felt good, then, to stress the muscles to such an extreme. To expend all the excitement built up from such deep agonies.
That's a lot to remember from a young age. From a condominium in Dublin to here. I can't imagine such a move when I've lived in the same area all my life. Even Destiny City was a short trip, though heavy on the mind. But to travel between continents... His thoughts fractured upon entry of a needle, each tug and jerk and twist evident from the surfaces of his skin. The deep tissue felt little, but the pain grew great enough to threaten his consciousness. Shale exercised one slow breath after the next, closing his eyes to try to foster some measure of meditation. Stop. Think. She said she was from Ireland, which would make her Irish by nationality at some point of her life. Without seeing her face right now, do you remember if she looks Irish?
She does not. Does that mean she is not Irish by blood?
No.
Shale continued questioning himself over her short narrative while she worked, both passively listening to the details of her life and then quizzing himself regarding the minutia laced into her stories. The flecks of detail present helped as an anchor point for his thoughts, but even toward the end of the exercise, his mind threatened to shut down on him as it had some time before. And to lose consciousness in a stranger's kitchen, to potentially jar her work by such a quick shift to the counter, might be considered offensive in this culture. Or inviting. Or any number of things that he lacked inventive imagination to guess at. The considerations for such outcomes, while another formidable anchor point, tired him entirely too quickly.
By the time she was halfway through stitching the wound, Shale shifted slowly to rest his head against the cool counter. His hands sported cold sweats in thin sheets, and his heart raced to accommodate the blood demand to the areas of injury, and what visuals he had of the speckled formica flattened in color while enduring strange textural alterations. Inwardly he wished for the analgesics to take effect already, though he knew there was little chance until a minimum of fifteen minutes passed. Until then, he would suffer through the brunt of the pain without desperately-needed mitigation.
Finally he removed the leather from his mouth, more out of fear of biting clean through the decorative bracelet than any need for speech. He would venture a comment regardless, if it meant further stories to concentrate on. "Do you prefer it here?"
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Posted: Wed Feb 25, 2015 8:13 pm
The sudden change of posture, the lean body bowing to touch forehead to counter, pulled Orah up short in worry and she paused in her work. She was not in terribly great shape herself, though she was not suffering to the extent he was. Her rounded features had a distinctly green edge to them, her lips pinched thin.
"Shale?" Her voice was questioning and uncertain as she hovered her hands over his wound, eyes searching for his face as he dropped the leather bracelet from his mouth. She could only imagine how much this hurt, but the only other option was to leave it as it was, and that would mean his wound half undone. He only asked a question though, and Orah gave him a break as she thought over it, dabbing at the blood that had run down his side with the rag she had kept.
"I... I don't know." She said, completely honest. Thinking on it, Ireland was a place of childhood memories and joys, tinged with tragedy. Destiny city contained everyone she loved, but held so much recent pain... "What I remember of it was good, but there isn't anything there for me. My Da was an only child and his parents are dead, I don't have any family there, or friends. We moved to Destiny City when I was four, after Mum died, so all of my life is here, everything I know and all the people I care about." And a war I never asked to be a part of, a life that isn't and will never be normal. If we'd stayed in Ireland... things might have been different. I might have had everything I dreamed of having when I was younger. I might have lived to see grandchildren.
"Da decided he couldn't stay in Ireland any more, there were too many memories of Mum, so his company transferred him here. He ended up deciding he wasn't happy being a programer any more though, which is why he quit that job and bought a flower shop." Orah said as she studied the wound, waiting to make sure Shale had recovered himself a little bit before she started in again. "He wanted to live more simply and do something he could still spend time with us during. Being a business owner agreed with him and I started working in the shop as soon as I was old enough to know what I was doing. I figured I'd spend the rest of my life working there, take over being owner once my Da retired."
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Posted: Fri Feb 27, 2015 4:46 pm
His side throbbed with the added agony of stitches pulling on the wound, and only Orah's thoughtful pause for consideration offered him a chance to catch up with the pain. Shale concentrated on breathing for a time to take his mind elsewhere. It helped, just as the cool countertop helped, but the taxing pains never fully abated.
Finally he straightened up enough to claw the sweat-damp black mane out of his face and his tired gaze settled on the budding nurse. The words ebbed and flowed no different than the ocean. Some phrases faded to white noise, while others came clarion and with relation alike. She wouldn't remember much then. I cannot remember the last time I needed to make friends... And now that the opportunity arises, I feel as though I don't need them. I wonder if it was hard, then, to move to such a city and try to make friendships. I imagine it was. She would have an accent. Are people here averse to those? Keen on them? Indifferent?
I can't even concentrate on simple questions. The pain is too great.
"A flower shop is an unusual choice. There must be significance to it." The words came strained, but steady. A glance toward the wound confirmed that they needed several more stitches before the damage was contained, which left a sore estimate for whether he would retain consciousness through it all. His mind drifted to time spent with Slate, when pneumonia claimed him so fiercely and feverish intentions forged far greater agonies than these. As he considered it, his sights drifted absently toward the set of utensils laid out on the table, mostly consisting of hemostats or other medical minutia. Inwardly he wondered how many of those Slate had used before, in their forays into the forest.
Why must you insist your life is boring when it's so different than mine. We cannot live each other's lives for comparison.
There are some parallels here. Her father changed career paths drastically for his own reasons. Orah effectively confirmed that she is changing career paths, but for a purpose she has not yet revealed. Finally he looked back to her, seemingly more in tune with reality.
"If I pass out, just keep going. I will wake in time."
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Posted: Fri Feb 27, 2015 7:44 pm
He seemed to relax with the break and she was grateful for it, glad that her choice to wait seemed to help. She dabbed at his skin again, studying the stitches she had made to be sure they were holding up. There was still some queasiness of her own, but the break helped her too, giving her a moment to steady her breathing.
"I don't know why he chose a flower shop, for sure..." She said as she fussed with the needle, making sure she had everything just so. "I never really asked. I should though... I'm sure its an interesting story and he'd probably enjoy telling it. He likes to tell stories and talk to people. Being a shop keeper agrees with him in that respect."
Pass out? Orah looked up in alarm, taking in the tightness of his features and how sallow his complexion had become. He was sweating too, a cold sweat. Damn it... she could read the signs there, knew how much pain he was in. She wished fervently she had the drugs to give him, but she didn't and there was no changing it... just working as fast as she could, as neatly as she was able. Reaching, she grabbed his hand and set it on her shoulder.
"Grip me and put your head down. I'll be able to feel it when you pass out and I don't want you to fall off the stool. Try to relax as much as you can so you don't just collapse... I'll try to be quick." She said as she steadied herself, her mouth set in a firm line. She could do this. She would do this.
Orah set back to stitching him up, her fingers no longer shaking and some of her old ease of long practice coming back to her.
"I spent most of my childhood in the same way... once I got old enough, I took over taking care of my young brother and eventually all of the little things at home. Cooking, cleaning, laundry and stuff like that. My Da had such a hard time with it... he was never really the same after Mum died, so it just became apparent that if I didn't learn to do things for myself, they just wouldn't get done." She said, falling back into storytelling to try and help them both. "He was never neglectful, of course, but it was better if I did it. Eventually I started working in the shop too and I learned how to do flower arrangements. They brought in a nice bit of extra income for us and sometimes we'd get larger orders, for things like weddings and fancy parties. I always enjoyed that sort of work."
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Posted: Fri Feb 27, 2015 9:57 pm
"I imagine as a programmer, he didn't encounter that opportunity much." A sharp grunt came immediately afterward when the needle pierced his skin. It pained him all the more than before, but a bloodless grip on the countertop helped displace some of the hurt.
"My brother..." He stopped to wince before resuming his own story. "He used to go to market frequently. He sold incenses - said there was an impressive marked for it out here in Destiny City. From what he told me of it, I learned that shopkeepers often get equal parts interested customers and interesting customers. An exchange of stories on both sides. It is an occupation truly meant for the personable." And that is why I've never been cast the part of a shopkeeper. As my mother reminded, I never learned how to interact. "I imagine your father had similar experiences with a much greater chance of returning customers."
Instead of gripping Orah as she requested, Shale maintained his grip on the countertop and shifted just enough to rest his head against the cool surface once more while his body oscillated between too hot and too cold. "Gripping your shoulder would just hamper your range of motion," he answered back against the counter, his breath a fog across its surface. And what would be the point of that but to sabotage myself.
Luckily her pace quickened while she adapted to the repetitive motion of suturing. Chancing a glance down, he noticed that she nearly completed the task - and likely, the puncture wounds on the opposite side would not require so much attention as the gash. Idly he wondered if flower arranging held any bearing on medical procedures - if such experience offered her decent exposure to the required dexterity. It felt feeble, but so did most thoughts when returning from the brink of passing out.
When the last suture was cut and no more assaulted his side, Shale chanced another glance at the handiwork left behind. Some of the stitches were of varying depths, but as none lingered shallowly, he figured it wouldn't matter. The earlier sutures certainly looked less practiced compared to the latter, but the quick learning curve remained evident in the final product. "Working with your hands suits these tasks, at least," he managed before he returned to leaning against the counter, the heels of his hands pressed against his eyes momentarily. The last of the lightheadedness faded slowly, but it faded nonetheless.
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Posted: Sat Feb 28, 2015 8:50 pm
Brother? That was an interesting detail. He hadn't mentioned family before... though, in all honesty, he hadn't mentioned much of anything about himself. It made her worry a little, putting so much of herself out there for him when she knew next to nothing about him in return. It was hard to be really worried about it, since he was injured quite severely, but still... there was a reason children were taught not to talk to strangers.
"I didn't say crush my shoulder..." She said as she worked. "I just want to be able to feel it when you go slack."
There was really no point in arguing with him over it right now... her attention was better spent on what she was doing. Hopefully she'd still be able to feel it, so she could keep him from tipping over and possibly hurting himself if he fell... or ripping out the stitch she was working on.
Focusing in on her work, Orah was cutting the last knot free before she knew it and she settled back on her heels as she watched him inspect her work. He seemed to approve, which pleased her. She'd done so many of these she'd gotten rather good at it, or had... she'd prided herself on neat, small stitches. Hopefully that skill would continue to come back the way it had tonight...
Blinking, the young woman glanced up as he spoke, confused a little about his statement until she looked back at the stitches and really saw the progress from start to finish. Crap... She'd been so concerned with helping him, she hadn't bothered to consider how it might look for a beginner to work the way she did... but he seemed to write it off easily enough, so maybe there was less to worry about than she thought. Pushing to her feet, she slid out from under his hand and headed to the sink to rinse her hands and start cleaning up. The rag she had been using, she tossed. It wasn't worth attempting to clean it... she had enough of them, she could spare one.
Running the tap till the water warmed as it slid over her fingers, Orah wet a new towel and brought it back to her strange guest, offering it to him.
"Here, if you want to clean up a little, I'm going to take a look at those punctures... hopefully they don't need stitches and I can just wrap them." A stretch pulled over the clothes she had dug out and she pushed them to sit by his elbow. "I have a spare set of clothes you can use, since yours are pretty beat up... I think maybe you should rest here for a while before you attempt to go home. I can call you a cab after some sleep, if you like. It would be better if you didn't go stumbling off exhausted and lightheaded."
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Posted: Mon Mar 02, 2015 7:28 am
Shale took the break to close his eyes a moment, allowing his thoughts to drift back to simpler times when a barter system took precedence over monetary gains and one concerned oneself more with what role to take to preserve the daily functioning of their lives. Closing his eyes, Shale remembered the smug grin dominating his brother's face the first day he came home from market, hand full of decrepit bills from wallets of the foreign.
You would be so much more suited to this task than I. I hope that you encountered a similar fate, at least; you would've relished the chance to leave. For a while, if not forever.
I can't go back anymore.
The offer of towel snapped him from his thoughts, and Shale took it with a short nod. Wordlessly he blotted some of the smears of ruddy red from his hip, mostly remnant from the stitching process. Blood still threatened to leak from the wound, even if stymied by her sutures, so he pressed the towel to his side in the interim while he watched her continue to wait on him.
I wonder if it's rewarding for her to do all this work. What if she commits to this because she feels she has to? A shame, certainly, if that were the case. I get the impression she doesn't just want to help things live. She wants to help them find happiness. Such is a bleak journey, rife with failures, but if she can nose out those few successes on the way... What am I thinking. It's none of my business. I've spent too long focusing on her to get past the pain and now it's become habit.
Shale picked through the clothes to find likely similar sizing, if not very dissimilar attire - more modest, more mature. Changing now begged disaster for these ones, so he left them folded at the edge of the counter. "If you are going to suggest sleep, you may want to suggest food," he returned while he folded arms against the counter and rested his head atop the nest. She knew full well that lightheadedness nagged his senses. The whole affair sapped most of his energy, leaving him fighting to stay awake save for the moments keen with hurt.
The punctures themselves looked glancing compared to the other side, where one appendage encountered the iliac crest so close to the surface that the wound amounted to more of a scrape than anything. The second wound, suggesting a walking of the appendage to get a better grip on the man, sought deeper territory but again encountered the iliac fossa and the wound did not linger deep. A handful of stitches might suffice, but the wound was deeper than it was long. Sutures were more an elective affair.
"I don't live so far that a cab will be necessary," he answered to the counter. Inwardly he prided himself on picking up that colloquialism, though he had not yet experienced a cab ride. He wondered if he should've accepted. "It is not a long walk from here. Provided nothing else attacks me, I will be fine.
"Have you ever encountered those creatures?"
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Posted: Mon Mar 02, 2015 8:12 pm
With him occupied with his towel, she shifted to his other side with the bottle again, bending low to wash out the wounds and get a decent look at them. What she saw was encouraging.
"Would you like something to eat?" She said as her lips quirked in a smile, fingers gentle on his red-marked skin. "Is there anything you can't have or don't like? I'll make you something, before you lay down."
She really didn't want to give him yet more stitches and cause him more pain, so she decided she was going to opt out of them this time. Some butterfly tape would do, if he wasn't too rough on it while he healed. It would be a lot easier if he didn't pass out on her. As she was finishing up and wrapping him in clean bandages, he spoke from the counter, distracting her from what she was doing.
There was a long pause as she finished wrapping, thinking about what to tell him. Encountered them before? I should think so... but how much can I tell without hinting I'm more than just a college girl he's met? I don't know him... and Alois proved no one can really be trusted. She wasn't good at lying... but maybe what truth she did have would be enough for him. He didn't feel like he was digging for information for more than curiosity and need for distraction.
"I've been attacked by them before. The first time was a few years ago. I was on my way home from school and one chased me a few blocks. I wasn't hurt though, because a man saved me. He was wearing white body armor and he was wrapped in caution tape. He said his name was Chaonis. These things... they're not uncommon in the city. Most people have learned not to go into the dangerous parts of the city at night, because of them." She said as she stepped back, heading for the sink this time for her final wash and to start cleaning up the used medical equipment. Anything bloody that wasn't metal, she tossed. The bloody cloths went into the garbage with the rest of it and she finished it all with a wipe down with disinfectant she snagged from under the sink.
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Posted: Wed Mar 04, 2015 2:09 pm
"I'm not picky, if it's real food." From frequenting the grocery store, he never gained any certainty about monosodium glutamate or sodium benzoate qualified as edible. Some of hte other processed foods and snacks didn't quite taste like what they claimed, either - from strawberry fruit snacks to watermelon gum balls. He never understood the attraction, even as a child.
To his welcome relief, Orah abandoned the stitches for butterfly sutures instead, which effectively held shut the wounds so long as he hadn't strained the material too terribly. Lack of analgesics should give him enough warning before he crossed that threshold; suddenly he regretted taking the ones offered. Instead, extra mindfulness would have to suffice for addressing the wound. He sighed through his nose as the only small indication of his disappointment.
"Caution tape and white body armor... Those are unusual dress habits." Chaonis? I wonder if that's one of our opposition. The ability to save someone from a youma suggests as much. That may mean that Orah already has colored views of the war - or what she knows of it. She could be many things in relation to it. While he considered the ramifications of her saving, Shale straightened up and tested the limits of his injuries before his body alerted him to potentially dangerous levels of stress. his range of motion decreased considerably, but he didn't complain; having survived the incident in the first place presented plenty of reason to be thankful for his current condition above the ground.
Afterward he slid off the stool. His pants sagged, and the wounds needed wrapping, but he managed most of that himself using the ace bandage from the walk here. Clotted blood still clung to its surface, leaving thick blotches broken into stripes where the bandage no longer aligned with its original position. "What qualifies as a dangerous part of the city?" His attention still lingered on the wounds, which he touched gingerly. He attempted a few short steps in testing his sutures, and walked slow rounds of the countertop. "It seems like everywhere holds some kind of danger. Are we supposed to stick to the more populated areas?" As a hunter I would say that's folly. Any animal of pack mentality could feast in such an arrangement.
His fingertips teased along the counter's edge before he came to a halt near Orah. His gaze wandered far, out to the door where she retrieved the supplies. The doorway twitched, shifted.
"I think I need to lie down," he said at last, while he watched the door unblinkingly. "I'm still lightheaded."
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Posted: Wed Mar 04, 2015 2:34 pm
The woman made a soft hum of assent as she went to dig in the fridge, considering what she had as she pulled things out and set them on the counter. This would be a strange meal, maybe, but it should help... See if she could get it done and in him before he passed out. At least it wouldn't take much to make.
Orah could hear Shale shifting around as she pulled a pan from the cupboard and set it on the stove to heat. She cut open the package of ground beef as she glanced over her shoulder, making sure he was standing okay on his own. If he fell, it was going to hard to move him anywhere. He was even taller than Alois, if memory didn't lie... and far more filled out.
"I... don't know for sure what areas to tell you to stay away from." She said as she formed a patty with some of the meat, a swipe of some spices from the pantry added some flavor to it. She put it down in the pan and dimpled the top with her thumb before she washed her hands again and tore open the package of spinach she'd pulled out as well. It smelled wonderful and fresh and she stole a leaf to pop between her teeth as she poured the round leaves into a bowl.
"Staying in places that are well lit and well traveled are a good idea, same as if you were trying to not get mugged." Orah turned to find him standing closer than she expected and she paused uncertainly before she pushed the bowl at him and fished a fork out of a drawer. "Here, eat this. I have some vinaigrette if you want dressing for it. You can take it to the couch while you eat, that's fine. And, um... how do you like your burger done?"
Already she could hear the sizzle as the heat of the pan hit the meat, sending up the first tendrils of cooking food smell.
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Posted: Wed Mar 04, 2015 2:58 pm
But you've lived in Destiny City most of your life. Surely you're aware which portions are dangerous, right? Or are you the type to bury thoughts into a cell phone while walking around? You haven't since I met you, but those frames of time are slim compared to your daily life. Perhaps you've just not explored all the area available. I suppose I will need to discover these on my own.
"Trying not to get mugged. right." Lacking that experience altogether, Shale was left in the same grey ground as before. instead he simply grasped the bowl in one hand and started toward the couch in view from the kitchen. After a time his steps came more quickly with some of the protests to movement abating. Well lit and well traveled are viable indicators at least, or somewhat. Everywhere feels well lit at night when compared to where I used to live. Only a smattering of lit birch sticks disturbed the grounds. The moon and stars took care of the rest. Now I live around man-made stars and their yellowed, dreary light. They catch in the smog and coat the streets in some kind of ubiquitous, greasy glow. I don't like it here.
Sitting just as carefully as he stood, Shale sunk into the couch cushion well enough and rested against the back. The bowl of spinach came to rest on one leg, temporarily ignored in favor of her question. "Medium, if you can." Beef is so chancy to cook. Bison flavors better, too.
The uncooked spinach tasted as expected, if a few days old by estimation. It still held a certain crispness, especially with the spare flecks of water from rinsing, that pleased the palate beyond its typical taste. The offer for salad dressing went unheeded.
After a handful of leaves, Shale set the bowl on a nearby table while he reclined to a less pressured position. Ultimately his pants became an inhibiting factor when comfort was concerned, so he stripped the pair away and folded them haphazardly for discard to the floor. Now his wounds found far more relief without constraining waistbands attempting to conform to his very skin.
It was only afterward that he realized that Orah may not be so keen on his decision, but the deed was done and the effort to reconcile was not worth spending unless he knew there was a problem.
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Posted: Wed Mar 04, 2015 3:25 pm
"There are too many small places to give you a whole list..." She continued as she flipped the burger and pressed it, juices running. "The city is huge and its not just in one area. I can only sort of... generalize, I guess."
Medium. She could do that. Turning the heat down a little, Orah retrieved a cup from the cupboard and the liter of orange juice from the fridge to fill it with, the tang of citrus hitting her nose in pleasant counter point to cooking meat. The smell wasn't terrible, but she wasn't particularly fond of it. Meat in general, really, just never tasted all that appetizing.
A thermometer signaled when the meat was done and she removed the whole of it from the heat. It might be a little on the pink side, she decided, but it should be okay. Either way, the point was red blood cell production more than anything. When the young woman exited the kitchen, she had ketchup and mustard under her arm and a plate in one hand, the meat between the halves of a fresh bun. The sight that greeted her made her stumble and she tightened her grip on everything lest she drop it, because her guest was not sprawled on her couch in little more than his underwear and bandages.
Orah's face colored as she put the plate and condiments down on the table before the couch, her motions quick as she spun to stalk down the hall. In moments she was back with a large, crocheted blanket in blues and greens that was dropped down next to Shale's hip before she was bustling back into the kitchen.
"Eat up and then take a nap, ok? I'm just going to... clean up. I'll try to not be too loud." She said over her shoulder, making a firm effort to keep her face turned away from the mostly-naked man on her couch.
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Posted: Wed Mar 04, 2015 3:53 pm
The stumble caught his attention but the otherwise tired man remained reclined and unperturbed. An arm found its way over his eyes with the crook meeting the bridge of his nose in a steady synergy that blocked out the sunlight that glinted off the table. Orah set the plate down with a clack and he hadn't yet found the energy to sit up and eat, even though the smell proved very palatable.
Shale grunted in agreement to her orders, soft as they were. Finally he propped himself up onto his elbows, body yearning for sleep. While his medical knowledge was not at all vast, he was vaguely aware that stage four sleep yielded the physical restoration he needed, and eating now would assist in the knitting of flesh together in their old holdings. After adding a dash of both offered condiments beneath the bun, Shale at through most of it at a steady clip. He left nothing more than a few crumbs on the plate and nothing of the spinach once finished.
Reclining again came easily, and his body urged rest and digestion. The couch felt every bit as inviting as the apartment's without the added distraction of Porsha's wandering hands while he tried to sleep. The addition of the knitted blanket offered a loose warmth that avoided constricting the wounds, and after releasing his unruly hair from its ponytail, his scalp relaxed and Shale readied himself to pass out on her couch.
Sprawled on his stomach with one hand extended just beyond the arm rest, Shale buried his face into his bicep to cover his eyes and, quickly enough, found sleep.
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