|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sat Sep 11, 2010 11:01 am
Guinevere had received stitches in her leg for her spill on a bike, and despite that she wasn't keen on coming back to the hospital, when stitches came in, so too must they come out. So one fine Sunday found her fidgeting in the white walled waiting room of the hospital once more. Her leg barely hurt anymore, so instead of just holding it and wincing, this time she was flipping through magazines, trying not to look up. Last time she had come here, she had seen her father doing his job, and he was no doctor, though he definitely administered a very final sort of cure. It wasn't a meeting she was keen on being subjected to again anytime soon. It wasn't that she hated her father. It was just that she'd rather keep him at a distance, preferably at least seven miles away at all times.
Finally, she put down her magazine and glanced around. No sign of her father, which calmed her down somewhat. Now there was nothing to be nervous about but the stitches, and getting them out couldn't be any worse then putting them in.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Sep 11, 2010 11:10 am
When you lost an arm, there were scheduled check-ups just about every 3 weeks. Niven's nub had long since healed, but the doctors still claimed that it was important to come in every so often. Aodh suspected they were more interested in his blood.
Thank God for health insurance.
When they crossed into the waiting room, Niven quietly whispered to his father: "Is that Guin?" The odd pair stood in the doorway a while longer, trying to consider. As the girl flipped a page, Aodh nodded. Niven, delighted, rushed over to the young woman while his father checked him in.
"Guin! Why're you here? What'd you do to yourself?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Sep 11, 2010 11:25 am
Guinevere startled when she heard her name and looked up to find Niven. More alarmed than relieved, since the second to last place Guinevere wanted to meet people she cared about was a hospital.*
"Niven!" she said, lowering the magazine somewhat. She briefly considered telling him the whole story, but if she was going to be a good example to him, she doubted saying 'I fell asleep while riding a bike near a crowded highway' was the best way to do it. She settled for "I just needed a few stitches. Enough about me, why are you here?" She lowered the magazine all the way to look at him, which turned out to be a mistake. Guinevere's sacrifice had been previously used as a murder weapon, and she got flashbacks to that time every time she had one of her depressing prophetic nightmares. That meant that she was used to seeing her fair share of blood and decapitation, and by all accounts, a bandaged nub should have been fairly tame for her. However, the nub in particular was attached to Niven, so Guinevere's reaction was shocked.
"Niven, you..." She swallowed, clearing her thoughts and trying to suppress the urge to panic. The colour had drained from her face, but it was important not to panic in front of children, as it was so often contagious. "Are you okay? How did that happen? Where's Aodh?" She tried to keep her voice calm, but there was a frantic edge to it. "How long has it been like this? What happened?
*The last being anywhere near a large and hungry predatory animal.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Sep 11, 2010 11:31 am
Niven was much more calm. He'd had to deal with violent reactions for quite some time now, especially from those who new him before the accident. He'd expect no less from Guin, who he'd grown up thinking of as an aunt or a big sister.
"He's over there," he responded first, pointing to Aodh who was now approaching the pair. The man was smiling as if to help calm the frantic herald. Rather than explain what had happened, though, he took a seat. It seemed so far that Niven preferred to tell the story himself and not seem like a dependent invalid. In fact, he'd demanded to tell his principal himself.
"I was riding my bike to school, and some lady hit me," he explained, nodding briefly. The trauma of the situation had worn down, and he had even gone back to riding his (new) bike. Talking about it was no big issue. "She broke the bones, and they couldn't put it back together."
He explained as if it were the simplest thing; to lose an arm to an idiot (and possibly drunk) driver.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Sep 11, 2010 9:13 pm
Guinevere sucked in air as he told the story, looking over him at Aodh rather than at his arm, a silent 'is that right, are you okay' practically written on her face. Her expression was less pale, but still taut and concerned. Seeing Niven like this was emotional, and Guinevere was particularly bad with emotions. However, Niven seemed calm, and as if she was the child that needed a steady voice to latch onto, she was gradually able to look at him again. What to say after that? Sorry would be flippant, making a fuss again would be useless.
She ended up asking useless things anyway, repeating herself like she was a doll that only knew a handful of phrases. "Are you okay now?" He seemed fine, except, of course, for the missing limb, but she looked him up and down anyway. "Your long sleeve shirts probably don't fit right now, do you want me to alter them?"
In a crisis, Guinevere could only do one of three things: sew, spew facts, and cut things. Considering the circumstances, sewing was the first thing that came to mind.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Sep 12, 2010 9:24 am
Aodh was only able to offer an unsure smile. It often seemed that he was taking this all harder than his son. He was fine, he nodded, and everything was going well. He had expected Guin to overreact somewhat, and this was secondary to the breakdown he'd expected. It was quite a shock to see someone missing a body part, after all.
"Yeah! Yeah, I'm okay," Niven nodded, offering a smile, "If you wanna, you can, but it's okay. I think I could just tie them up, right?" He wasn't crazy about that particular idea, considering all the extra attention it drew to his nub. Besides fact, he had no idea if his blood... ink? If he would stain his clothes black. He was grateful to Guin, at least, for making such an offer.
"So what did you do, huh? Did you fall?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Sep 15, 2010 7:42 am
Guinevere bit her lip and said "Oh, Niven." He shouldn't have to think about how to accessorize a missing arm at all, and talking about it was weird, even though she was the one who offered. Looking away for a moment and swiping at her eyes, she wouldn't cry, that wouldn't make anything better, and panic was so contagious with children, it really was, she composed herself and then turned around again. "Me? I fell." Sort of. Off a bike. Into a tree. But that was neither here nor there. "No big deal, I was a bit concerned because I never had stitches before, but it wasn't too bad." She didn't feel like talking about it that much. It felt like she was looking for pity, which was ridiculous since Niven had just lost a limb, and it wasn't even his fault like hers had been.
"I saw my dad in hospital, too, but he was busy," she added, having run out of non injury related news to give. "He's doing okay, though." Not that it had been a particularly comfortable reunion what with one thing and another. "Are you done with your checkup? Did the doctors say you're doing well?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Sep 16, 2010 11:45 am
Niven noticed Guin was close to tears, and he sat beside her and leaned into her shoulder. There was no reason to cry for him; what happened could not be altered or fixed. Why worry about something that you couldn't change? He listened to her speak, though, and smiled softly.
"Me neither. It didn't even hurt!" he said, referring, of course, to the stitches. He had had quite a few. He had never met Guin's parents, though, and so took the news with a soft smile shot up at the young woman. "Nope! We just came in. We'll probably be waiting a lot, but that's okay," he nodded. "I'm all healed, but they like to check up just in case. My ink does funny things." He hefted a nub and wiggled it at Guin, showing off the somewhat-ink-stained bottom. He couldn't control it himself, and he couldn't quite explain the situation, so he showed her.
Aodh approached then, sitting on the other side of his son.
"Imagine the surprise when I found him in a bed wet with his own blood, hm? Seems, though, there's something odd with it, the way it moves. He's my little guinea pig." Niven laughed as his father ruffled his hair, and then frantically pat it back down.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Sep 17, 2010 7:27 pm
For the first time, Guinevere got a good look at Niven's stump as he thrust it at her a bit, and though she'd been trying to avoid looking at it, what she saw caught her inquisitive eye. The only thing stronger than Guinevere's repulsion at seeing someone she cared about so severely injured was her curiosity about all the strange goings-on related to Heralds. She hunkered down, unable to help herself, and got a good look at it, biting her lip again, out of confusion this time. "That's funny. Maybe it's because of your sacrifice, a horror book, right? Black blood, that's a horror thing, right?" She looked at her own arm briefly, as if considering cutting it open in the name of research as well. Fortunately, her fall off her bike had already done it for her- Guinevere's blood was decidedly red, and sufficiently bloody to prevent the need for further investigation.
Aodh was speaking now, but she barely heard him until he said 'the way it moves.'
"How does it move?" she asked, looking up at him. Her eyes were still puffy and threatening tears, but less than they had been a few moments ago. Presented with something to think about, the change in Guinevere was almost comically drastic.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Sep 18, 2010 6:04 pm
"Away from needles, for one," Aodh offered readily, "It goes where it wants to, when it wants to. A very strange thing indeed. I regret that I hadn't thought of it beforehand. We should have known, I think, from the boy's skin color."
Niven pushed out his lips in response, and then opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue. All of his blood-rich tissue was a dusky grey, barely pink. His blood was clearly not the bright red people had grown to expect, and he was now used to people asking for proof. If the stained nub was not enough, he offered what else he had.
"Of course, I may have doomed him to this from the start. Throughout his book, people are getting their heads lopped off. The page I was reading, a boy loses his hand. I'm not certain I believe in fate, but it's hard to ignore."
Niven rolled his eyes, having heard this so many times before. He was so tired of hearing the man who'd raised him blaming himself. "Dad, stop."
"I know, NivNiv, I know. Let your father share his self-loathing."
"Ugh."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Sep 18, 2010 6:16 pm
"Don't worry, Mr. Murray," Guinevere was quick to console Aodh, "My sacrifice was used to harm people, if things like that dictate the Herald, what kind of life would I be living?"
This from the girl whose father was a grim reaper and who had found her mother dead in a kitchen. Still, Guinevere refused to blame herself for it, and it wasn't like Kotatsu had cut herself to death. As for her father, the fact that he was a grim reaper was pure, unfortunate circumstance. If people were more likely to die around Guinevere, it would have happened more frequently. She worked for a demon summoner, that had plenty of opportunity for on the job accidents, yet she had spent the last year working there free of disruption.
"Anyway, if this is the sacrifice's fault, why would Niven have accepted it in the first place? Seems to be a pretty silly way to preserve yourself if you keep getting bits chopped off. There would have to be some way to make up for it if this was really the sacrifice's fault."
She paused, letting that idea roll around in her mind, but Aodh had said heads got lopped off, and that didn't bear thinking of. She didn't want to even include the possibility. "If you're to blame, we might as well blame the person who sacrificed to me for the fact that I can never find any dresses that last on me." She reached over to pat Niven's head absentmindedly and said, "It'd be nice if I could get a sample of his blood to look at, but I'm sure the doctors have done that already. Plus if it moves away from needles, well..."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Sep 18, 2010 6:37 pm
Niven decided to not respond to Guin himself. There was no reason to worry her with reminders of where they had both come from; no need to tell her that after falling from Heaven itself, there was really no fear in losing in arm. There was nothing quite like dying to make you truly appreciate life. He only smiled.
"Mm. A promising truth, Guinevere," Aodh snorted, "You're the least likely of anyone I know to murder." Of course, it was possible that they had talked about it before, and he hadn't thought it important enough to remember. It was like him taking about sperm and eggs.
Niven only listened, smiling pleasantly and tilting his head. Apparently growing hadn't changed his habitual silence.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Sep 20, 2010 8:44 pm
Guinevere laughed. "I'm flattered, Mr. Murray," she replied. "I'm sure that if I can resist the allure of my surely-promising life of crime, Niven will be more than fine."
She had stopped worrying about her father, Aodh adn Niven had that effect on her. They were some of her favourite people to be around, which wasn't saying much, since Guinevere saw most of the people she knew as subjects to observe rather than friends. But the writer and his son were most definitely her friends, and she hoped they thought the same of her. It was nice to be able to talk about things that normally bothered her as if they were idle nothings, and she felt comfortable doing that with the Murray family.
"Let's see, though, if I can't adjust your clothes, maybe I can bring a movie over or bake some sweets." Guinevere's baking wasn't the best thing in the world, but at least it had improved to the point where the offer was no longer a threat to peoples' well being. "As for his blood, if it moves away from needles, only time will tell, I suppose. Call me if anything develops, will you? You didn't call me before," she added, a trifle concerned. She knew that she was just a family friend, but she'd rather not run into any more surprise amputees if she could help it. It was a different kind of unsettling from her visions, and she particularly disliked it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Sep 29, 2010 9:26 am
"Crime," Aodh responded, "or generally gothic nature."
He wouldn't have minded a friend dressed all in black; in reality, it may have been better for book sales if he did. The fact of the matter was that Guin was not gothic; she was strong and innocent, well-dressed and well-spoken. He would not trade that now for one of a thousand doting fans who lit black candles and played with things they had no real knowledge of.
"I'd like that," Niven nodded, far past offense at the offer on his clothes, "Guin the Cat misses you. It's been a long time." Since what he didn't say, but it was easy enough to assume.
"Yeah, I'm sorry about that one," Aodh added, face twisting into something guilty, "To be honest, it slipped my mind. I was so worried, I didn't think you might be. It has been a long time, Guin."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Sep 29, 2010 1:04 pm
Guinevere shrugged. "Well, dribbly candles are terribly messy, and I prefer sunflowers to black roses anyway."
The difference between Guinevere and gothic girls was that while she played with things she had no real knowledge of, she took notes and tended to wear practical clothing for doing so. She used to be interested in black dress, dribbly candles witchcraft, but after more than a few unpleasant incidents, she had learned to prefer being prepared for the unexpected over looking nice for the unexpected. The supernatural didn't care what dress you wore, but Guinevere would care if it ended up knocking holes in her roof. As a Herald, she couldn't deny the existence of the supernatural, but she could try to find out more about it and use logic over mysticism to do so.
Now wasn't the time for research though, curious as she was to know more about Niven's arm. "It has, too long. I'm sorry I've been so caught up in," she waved her hands vaguely, "Everything." Growing up had been hard for Guinevere to get the hang of. She was still getting used to it in fact, but at least now she had more free time. "I'll bring over a cake or something, something really nice."
Shaking her head at Aodh, she quickly interjected, "Don't worry! I understand, it's my fault, I suppose. I haven't really been keeping in touch with anyone." The last preplanned activivty she had been on was a date with Lind, which was more a tragic mishap than a pleasant evening, and not an outing which she would ever admit she'd been on to anybody. "But if something does happen, I'll always have time." She would have offered the same to any Herald she was studying, but in this particular case she extended the offer as a friend.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
