Welcome to Gaia! ::

The knock will be quiet but firm, insistent: a pattering at Marco's door that doesn't stop until he answers. Again and again and again, until it's plain that whoever's doing the knocking isn't just rude -- they're desperate. It's the wee hours of the night, long before morning, when the sky is at its darkest and even the rougher characters of the city have .. for the most part .. settled down to an uneasy silence.

Most. But not all --

Standing outside the good doctor's door are two men, one propping up the other. For a moment Marco might suspect dreams or drugs, for the two men look as alike as a man standing before his own reflection; every detail (particularly as seen in the shadowy light from the street-lamps) seems precisely the same. They are the same height, the same gangly build, with the same shorn-off brown hair and the same plain black clothing with hints of warm gray. Their faces look so much the same that a bewildered mind might assume that even their freckles are placed the same .. as in fact they are, for where each man has a freckle, his twin has painted one on with brown dye to match him, but few can tell the difference.

The only difference between them that's plain is that one of the two men is badly injured, his shirt torn and revealing a badly bruised shoulder. There is also a cut over his eye, still bleeding freely, so that his hair on one side is matted with blood and clinging to his skin. The man doing the supporting does so with difficulty, sporting a cut of his own where the knife has split his pantleg, baring a wound that runs the length of his calf. He is clearly holding onto the last of his calm with the thinnest threads, near to going mad with worry for his twinsib.

"Yer a doc, right?! You're gonna help us!" For all that his brother can hardly stagger, Last intends to shove his way into Marco's dwelling, dragging First along with him.

There's enough energy and strength left in Last to help lay his brother out on the bed; he drops down at the head of the bed, supporting First's shoulders. Though some of his relief fades from his face when Marco scolds them, he is too tired to do more than growl under his breath, and in his current condition -- white as a sheet beneath his freckles -- it does little more than make him look five years younger than he really is. "They beat him, an' his head's still bleedin', it just won't stop! Fix that first, okay? Don't let him go barmy! It don't matter if I go lame, but don't let him go barmy!"

While Marco prepares himself and First lays in dull silence, apparently comprehending little of what he sees, Last lets out a sudden yelp at his first glimpse of Somnium. "Hellfi-- .. you got a great big ruddy deer in your flippin' flat, are you barmy?"

First stirs finally at this, turning his head to watch the Guardian, and trying to blink away some of the blood that's fallen into his eyes. Something like a smile curls his lips, and he holds out one hand toward Somnium, as if to coax him closer. " .. ain't so bad," he mutters weakly. "I like him. We got the same name, doc. Ain't no need to tell us apart."

First curls his fingers a little, rubbing them over Somnium's soft snout until the Guardian pulls away, then letting his hand fall back again. "Ain't no worry, healer," First assures him, in a weak voice, with still just a hint of a smile. "Don't feel much like moving anyway." He doesn't bother to ask for a bit; this can't be the first injury he's sustained, or even the first bad one. Though worse off than his brother, he seems to be taking the whole thing fairly well.

Meanwhile, Last is worrying enough for both of them. He scowls at Marco's orders, and it'll take some shuffling -- he'll shuck his boots and torn slacks without so much as a hint of bashfulness, then drop back down. Last doesn't want to move away from his twin, which means that he'll end up sitting at the head of the bed, First's head propped up on his thigh, legs held out straight. He sits facing Marco, with his injured leg against the headboard, watching the whole procedure suspiciously and holding his brother's head steady as necessary.

"How come you don't got a 'prentice?" This is Last, and there's no telling where the question comes from .. maybe it's just because he's trying not to think about how much his leg hurts, or how badly injured his twin is.

Cleaning out First's head injury will hurt, very much so, but he is steady enough that he'll bite through neither lip nor tongue. He curses weakly at Marcus and the world in general, and hisses through his teeth, but for the most part his brother is able to keep him still. By the time Marcus sits back to speak to him, First is as white as a sheet and panting raggedly. The doctor's stern warning makes his eyes go very wide. " .. sure thing, healer," he says in that weak voice that seems to be all he can manage, giving Somnium another ghost of a smile. He likes the Guardian, with his odd mottled coloration and his big, soft nose. It's unbelievably soft -- his fingers curl around it, trying to pet up the bridge of Somnium's nose.

Last is not so good a patient, though he sits just as still as his brother, gritting his teeth and hissing each breath. Once Marcus is through cleaning the wound he'll move as directed, in that oh-so-careful way that suggests that it's painful for him to do so. "We don't run. Not from nobody. And what do ya need to warn me for? Bloody go and do it. Sooner the better." He's taken a fistful of his brother's sleeve as the only necessary palliative -- something to soothe and distract him while Marcus sews him up. He knows already that it isn't going to be pleasant.

Last actually snorts a laugh when Marco declares that he's of no use to anyone dead, head tipping back and the sound turning breathless when the needle first slides into his ragged skin. "There's some as would disagree with that," he offers, the words squeezed out between his teeth. "Gold to our heads, whether they be attached or not." He'd normally not be so uncouth to announce such things .. after all, if Marcus doesn't decide to turn them in, his neighbors might. But he's stretched thin with pain and with fear, not thinking about what he's saying.

First meanwhile is still smiling at Somnium, his fingers curling at the feeling of the Guardian's tongue. "Do you think," he asks the Guardian in a soft whisper, " .. that maybe you could tell your friends I wouldn't mind caring for one of you fine lads?" He rubs his thumb up the bridge of Somnium's nose, content to have the Guardian keep him company.

"Ain't gonna be no soldiers," Last reassures Marco after a breathless growl. "Had help gettin' loose. Ain't got the gold to pay you now, but we'll come back with it. We don't forget them as has done us a good turn." He stops, makes another strangled sound of pain, and hisses out a few curses about the possible parentage of his attacker.

Though it disturbs the doctor for Last to speak of the value of his life, it does not disturb the Friedrich in the least; were it not for the pain that draws his words taunt and thin, he'd sound almost flippant about it. He makes a low hiss in faint complaint at the sight of his own blood, hastily looking away before the sight can sicken him, and takes a tighter grip of the bedclothes. "We won't bring you no tainted goods, swear it. Got more honor than that, an' more smarts! We take care of them as takes care of us." It's a repetition, but the very familiarity of the phrase seems to give him some comfort. Last hisses through his teeth, the sound becoming almost a whine. " .. just don't let my brother go barmy, and we'll take care of you."

First can hear him, and makes a small snort that with a little more strength to it could have been a laugh. " .. don't mind him," and if his voice isn't quite strong enough for him to really be joining the conversation, maybe he's just talking to the Guardian after all. " .. he's just worried 'cause I'm the one with all the brains." He goes back to rubbing Somnium's soft nose a moment later, a wistful smile on his face.

By the time he is through, Last is panting, sweat having beaded up on his forehead and now trickling down his face and neck. Color comes back to his face slowly as he catches his breath in gasps and shudders, and he nods to show that he's heard, though he doesn't look particularly happy about Marco's advice. How is he supposed to bully people if he can't even walk? How can he protect himself if he's muzzy-headed with pain killers? " .. hope you don't mind guests," he mutters, "leastways nobody knows where we're at, so it's as safe here as anywhere."

First sighed at Marco's description of his injuries, hand still curved over Somnium's soft nose. No matter that Guardians as a whole make his twinsib half-sick with nervousness; he likes 'em. " 'Course," he agrees, with a ghost of a smile. "Even busted up I can see he's a handsome fellow. Can't help but give him his due."

That earns him a snort from his brother, who rolls his shoulders back, still in pain but relieved to have the stitching over with. "Maybe you shouldn't bother nothing, healer, he's already gone barmy if he thinks he's the smart one. Next he'll be wanting one of them witch-cats that can see dead things."

"Ain't so bad as all that," Last tells him. He does not seem particularly surprised by mention of a bill for room and board -- far from finding Marco cruel for demanding such a fee, he seems to have expected it. Too much kindness would have worried the twins, who would have wanted to know what ulterior motive was behind such a peculiar generosity. "We mean to take care of you, for helpin' out."

First snorts a weak laugh at Somnium's sneeze, shaking his hand out gently, more amused then horrified by having been sneezed on by the Guardian. When he wipes his hand on his shirt he leaves it resting there, even as his gaze rests on the Guardian fondly. " .. ain't hungry, leastways," murmurs First, as if breakfast had been a possibility at this time of night.

" .. them grave-minders be different," Last contends, with a scowl. "See things ain't no body supposed to see."

"Grimalkins," his twinsib corrects, with a yawn. "Hey, healer-man. Can I sleep now?"