|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Mon Nov 19, 2007 9:22 pm
Following his friend down the alleyway, Fiach hadn't expected to see Sionce drop to the ground. Or for him to start crying. But Fiach really wasn't prepared for Sionce to fall into his shoulder and start to cry into him. Stunned, at first Fiach just stood there before slowing wrapping his arms around his friend. He didn't know what to do when people cried and was always left feeling like a failure when they walked away.
His first thought was to turn his head, to not look at Sionce while he cried. But he couldn't, and he felt bad for being at a loss for what to do. He held Sionce tight, hoping that would be enough. Lowering his head near to Sionce's ear, he whispered, "Maybe we should get you home..." He didn't want Emile to find them, because he didn't know what Sionce would do. All Fiach knew was that his friend needed to get out of here, and soon.
Sighing slightly, he smiled sadly down at his friend before taking off his hat and placing it on Sionce's head. Gently picking Sionce up, he muttered, "Dont worry. I'll get you home." Walking down the road, the tall man got many stares, but he put on a mean glare and refused to look at anyone. His priority was to get his friend home, and that was all that mattered.
He was slightly disappointed that Art wasn't still waiting for them, but figured the man probably had better things to do than wait around all day anyway. The walk was a long one, especially with Sionce crying the whole way, and when they finally got to Sionce's house, Fiach breathed a sigh of relief. Setting Sionce down, he reached up and got the key out of the gutter before opening the door and bringing Sionce into the house. Making sure he got over to a chair to sit, Fiach went off in search of bandages and burn salve.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Nov 19, 2007 10:59 pm
The whole trip home was a blur to Sionce after he intially started crying, his only memory here and there being Fiach grunting as he shifted his weight. He became more aware when they actually reached his home and he was set down so Fiach could get the key from the gutter, and he actually considered his situation and stopped crying so hard when he was sitting down on one of his chairs and was inside his own home.
"... ....."
He took a few deep breaths as he tried to sort his thoughts, and with the back of his non-burned hand he wiped away the tear stains that had slowly gathered on his cheeks as well as the unsightly amounts of dried snot that had accumulated as well. His lungs hurt from the excessive amounts of crying he'd been doing, his eyes as well, but for some reason it felt quite refreshing.
It was only when Fiach returned into the room toting some salve and bandages he must have found somewhere (the bathroom, most likely) that Sionce did turn his face up and blanch at the stains that decorated his friend's shirt.
"....I'm sorry."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Nov 19, 2007 11:05 pm
With a shrug for a response, Fiach set down the first aid supplies and knelt in front of his friend. He took a moment to get everything set up before looking up at his friend. A faint smile crossed his face as he noted that this was really the first time he'd ever had to look up at Sionce. Tilting his head slightly, he quietly commanded, "Let me see your injuries, Sionce."
He couldn't admit it, but he was nervous being around his friend after the crying incident. He had a lot of trouble when people cried, and it always hurt him when he couldn't help prevent it. Though his jaw still ached from that punch Emile had thrown, he would worry about that later. A bruised jaw wasn't nearly as serious as burns.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Nov 19, 2007 11:11 pm
Sionce's face paled for a moment as Fiach asked to see his wounds, and his hand imeedatly traveled to the small of his back where Emile had managed to get in a few burns after scarring up his arm proved not to be effective enough as 'punishment'. The only way he'd be able to get those looked at was if he took off his entire shirt...and if he did that, Fiach would be able to see everything.
"I...I think I'll be fine. These burns are nothign serious, really. You'd better get your jaw checked, Emile is a champion boxer you know."
He did the best he could to pull the conversation away from his wounds and the need to remove his clothes, so he tried to pull at anything.
"But I guess you might have figured that out from the punches she throws? Despite her size and attitude she'd quite good in the ring."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Nov 19, 2007 11:17 pm
Shaking his head firmly, Fiach glared up at Sionce. "Bad burns will blister. If the blister pops, it can become infected." He momentarily thought about grabbing Sionce's arm to get a look at it himself, but thought better of it, considering the situation.
Shrugging at the comment of his sister being a champion boxer, Fiach gave a mirthless laugh, "I've met better brawlers, to be honest. I grew up in Ireland and worked the pubs as a waiter/bouncer, among other things. Fighting is what I did." He wasn't about to tell Sionce that most of his fighting had been learned during his drug running days. Where the need to refine his style and learn to use weapons had become a necessity to survive. Rubbing at the bruising jaw line, he conceded, "She does have a mean hook, though, I'll give you that. It'll bruise, but I'll be fine."
Standing up, he motioned for Sionce to let him see his wounds. He didn't really feel like p***y footing around all day, not with a soaked and newly stained shirt on his back.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Nov 19, 2007 11:34 pm
Sionce tensed and moved back in his seat as Fiach glared at him, and he felt his hopes rise and fall as his companion spoke about fighting. He had hoped the subject would be dropped, but when Fiach got to his feet and asked again with a motion to see his wounds...Sionce relented. Slowly moving to his own feet he started to unbutton the claps on his shirt, and when it was finally open he took a deep breath and slid the fabric off his shoulders.
The sight that greeted Fiach on Sionce's body couldn't have been described as anything other than...pitiable. All the stories of abuse Sionce hinted at, the jokes Emile was making earlier about wounds and games, they all were shown to be true as the scars and bruises on Sionce's torso exposed the truth.
There were hundreds of burn marks in various shapes and sizes dotted about the whole of his trunk, a few here and there on his shoulders and along the curvature of his hips. They continued down onto his lower arms which were scarred to look like he'd cut his wrists open hundreds of times, but knowing Sionce's personality it was impossible for him to try something that brave, so the next thought was his sister found pleasure in cutting him and letting him bleed.
The horrors and markings continued onto his back, a certain spot on his frame sporting rows and rows of dots aligned like someone had sat on him and stabbed him over and over, and another area looking like the holes had been made randomly. A game of darts perhaps, while using a human dart board? Many other scars in different shapes and sizes accented the others, all in various shadows of color and size due to the age they'd been inflected, almost making his body look like a patchwork tattoo piece.
It was sort of hard to tell the new wounds from the numerous old scars that covered his frame, though they did manage to let themselves be known from the redness that surrounded them and the smell of burn flesh that lingered as an after thought. Sionce reached over and tenderly touched a blistering burn on his left forearm, and he frowned as he figured it would make another scar.
".... .....And here you must have thought I liked long sleeves and sweatshirts for the style."
His comment was a bit biting, a little more than he had intended, and Sionce smiled weakly.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Nov 19, 2007 11:43 pm
As Sionce's shirt dropped to reveal the mass of scars that he had acquired during the years his sisters had tortured him, Fiach's face showed a range of emotion. Rage. Sorrow. Fear. Shock. Regret. And the strong desire to comfort his friend. Dropping what he had been about to do, Fiach enveloped his friend in another hug. For the moment, it was all he could think of to do.
Withdrawing almost as suddenly as he had hugged him, Fiach blushed lightly before muttering a quick apology. "I'm...sorry. I probably shouldn't have done that..." Clearing his throat before stooping down to pick up the bandages and salve, he decided that there were a few more burns than he'd anticipated that were new, and decided to sit on the floor while he worked. He motioned for Sionce to join him, as he carefully opened the burn salve tube.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Nov 20, 2007 9:45 pm
Sionce's face burned a slight shade of crimson for a moment before he nodded in response to Fiach's apology and invitation to sit back down - this time on the floor.
It made him feel...so awkward to have his shirt off in front of someone else. Ever since he left France he'd always been fully covered - never even venturing to the doctor when he was sickly. These marks weren't a brand of shame, but they sure as hell weren't a source of pride.
"If you...if you can't tell the new from the old, go ahead and poke around. I'll let you know when you're on the right track."
His comment with mirthless.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Nov 20, 2007 9:58 pm
Slightly surprised at how Sionce could speak of all the scars, Fiach found finding the new burns easy. They were red and puffy, easily standing out from the myriad of white old scars. As gently as he could, he began administering the salve on each of the new burns.
"If...if I start to hurt you...feel free to yell at me.." Fiach was afraid to hurt his friend right now, and wasn't too sure he dared ask any of the questions that were brewing in his mind. After delicately applying the salve to the burns on Sionce's back, Fiach leaned forward, with his chin near Sionce's shoulder, before quietly asking, "May I see the arm that got burned? I'll bandage you up after that."
Recalling the fight with Emile, Fiach played the moment where Sionce had stepped in between the two over and over. They had spoken in French - a language he didn't understand. Giving in to the burning temptation of wanting to know, he rested his chin on Sionce's shoulder and gently asked, "Why did you stop us?" He didn't want to admit it, but he had been enjoying the fight. The thrill of not knowing if you would survive the fight had captured him in its thralls when he was a brawler in Ireland. Though he was loathe to admit it, he half wished Sionce had let them continue their fight. And that Emile's aim had been a little truer and taken him down. For good.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Nov 22, 2007 9:14 pm
Sionce flinched as ointment was spread over the wounds on his back, and he felt his shoulder grow hotter as Fiach rested his head there and asked his open-ended question. It was a good questions, and it actually took the youth a few moments to think of a decent answer.
If he gave one that Fiach didn't want to hear, he risked making him upset...and if he told one he liked, he risked lying. It was tough.
"I...I wanted to protect Emile. Not from you, from herself."
He turned and looked at Fiach from over his shoulder, slowly moving a moment after so he faced his friend and his chest was visable. Think blackish-purple welts were starting to form from where Emile had struck him earlier, and he touched them with a wince.
"You...you probably would have killed her if you kept fighting, you know? Maybe on purpose, maybe on accident, but it wouldn't be your fault - it would be hers. Emile would never give up in a fight, and even though she's an excellant boxer...she's not a brawler. She wouldn't know what to do when you kept coming."
Sionce raised his hand and placed it on his face, his eyes staring into Fiach's own as he spoke. His left hand rested still over the forming bruise, but he moved it to extend the arm out and allow the palm and forearm to be treated.
"For what she is....a theif, a liar, a killer....she's my sister. I can't turn from her when I know I can save her."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Nov 22, 2007 9:55 pm
Accepting the proffered arm and gently applying the salve to it, Fiach's eyes traveled over the darkening welts that were forming where Sionce had been hit by Emile. He winced at the sight of them, but said nothing. He felt like it was partially his fault this had happened - Trisste had asked him to protect Sionce and he hadn't. In his eyes, it was as simple as that - and in that respect, he was a failure.
At Sionce's mention of the fight ending in a death, Fiach winced slightly and turned his head away. He was afraid his eyes would reflect too much. "I...wouldn't have killed her..." remembering his vicious smile as he'd brawled and how into it he'd been getting, he sighed slightly. He nodded, though, in concert with Sionce's last statement. Smiling at his friend, he softly said, "I would have been disappointed in you had you turned from her."
Finishing the application of the salve, he began to gently bandage up the arm. As he completed that, he indicated with a gesture for Sionce to turn so he could wrap his waist.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Nov 23, 2007 6:47 pm
"I...I know you wouldn't have killed her on purpose, but you...you're stronger than you let on. You're better than you let on. After all, a brawler can only really call themselves that after they either survived a fight where they were clearly outnumbered...or they killed someone."
He meant the comment with a bit of seriousness and jest, as Sionce hardly knew anything about the underworld. He did know, however, the difference between fighters and brawlers thanks to the many lessons he was 'freely given' by Emile when she'd been drinking or just for the hell of it.
"As for leaving her behind, or letting her go....I'd face the wrath of the living four, you know? Sophie would be the worst though, as I think Hannah Marie and Ann Marie would just...not care. They'd take the role of eldest with spice and jazz."
Sionce looked at the bruises on his ribs once more as Fiach offered to fix them, and he kindly smiled as he refused the treatmeant.
"I think...this is something I need to weather. All my other wounds were left the same way, save for when Sophie was feeling....interested...so pain of this sort is nothing."
He reached over for his shirt and winced at the movement, but he tried to brush it off with another weak smile and just simple touched the tips of his fingers to the bruise. Something had been cracked, he was sure of it, and with any luck there was internal bruising or bleeding.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Nov 23, 2007 7:06 pm
A shadow crosses Fiach's face at Sionce's mention of what he knows a brawler to be. His lips curl into a tight lipped smile as he nods politely in confirmation, though he would likely never admit to which one he'd done or any of the details. Listening to Sionce's tale, not willing to speak, fearing his voice might betray something he didn't want to talk about, he patted his friend on the shoulder. Attempting to convey compassion and understanding, though the movement was slightly robotic and Fiach's eyes were still on fire.
Frowning at his friend's wince, Fiach quietly suggested, "If you won't let me take care of it, I will take you to a doctor." Pausing only momentarily, he added in a serious tone, "By force, if necessary." Fiach was worried about his friend's health, and not really in a mood to let Sionce go without treatment. Tilting his head, with a bit of anger dripping in his words from the mood he'd fallen into, Fiach muttered, "And I'm not one of your sisters. So I won't be leaving you to "weather" your injuries."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Nov 23, 2007 7:38 pm
At the sound of anger in Fiach's voice, Sionce raised an eyebrow after he finished pulling his shirt over his head. With the sudden change in tone, he couldn't help but think 'what's wrong now?'.
"I'm not going to the doctor. I told you, I'm fine. I've had worse."
More than the fact that he didn't want to go to the doctor because of the bills that it would rack up, or more than the fact that he didn't want to go and have to show off his torso like some prize at a fair...he didn't want to go because he felt he deserved it.
The cracked or bruised ribs were his punishment for disobeying Emile and defying her, and the bruise was also his punishment of not letting Fiach kill her while he had the chance.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Nov 23, 2007 7:48 pm
Seeing the eyebrow raise in a silent question, Fiach turned his head away. Sighing when Sionce refused to attend a doctor or let him finish treating his injuries, Fiach decided to give up. He couldn't protect his friend and he couldn't help alleviate the pain. Clenching his fists against his thighs as he realized he wasn't a good friend at all, Fiach merely said, "I'm...sorry...I shouldn't have tried to make you do anything."
He kept his face turned away as he said his apology. It killed him to apologize for what he felt was right, but he also didn't want to fight with Sionce. Gathering his temper and his face under control, he schooled his features into the picture of calm before looking back at Sionce. Tipping his head a little, as if in a mock bow, he added, "And...tell Trisste I'm sorry, as well." His fists tightened slightly at the apology, but he felt he had to say it. He hadn't protected Sionce even though Trisste had asked him to. It simply wasn't in him to break his word and not apologize for it.
"Do you...need anything else?" Fiach hesitated to leave, because he wasn't really sure what Sionce would do. Though he was fairly certain Sionce wouldn't attempt suicide, after seeing him with Emile, he wasn't sure anymore just what his friend was capable of.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
