Welcome to Gaia! ::

The room was not silent. Every drip of IV fluid plinked like a drop of rain against a window, magnified to the Indian man’s ears by its necessity. The rustle of blankets were added next as he tucked the bedclothes around the shivering patient. The nurses stood at a moment’s notice, but Krishna could not bear to have them near. Richard would use them as a means of distraction, and he wanted no distraction. He deserved to absorb all of what lay before his eyes. No matter how it affected him.

His partner should not be here. He should not have been acting as part of Wolframite’s plot, when he harbored no ill will against the Dark Mirror Court. Krishna had wanted to go, eager as ever to spill the blood of Senshi. When the necessity of moving into his apartment had interfered, Buddingtonite had insisted on going in Serpentine’s stead, in representing their partnership and commitment to the officers of the Negaverse. For this, Richard had suffered at the hands of the enemy. The stab wound was now stitched and bandaged, but it was not healed. It was one more in a string of suffering that the ginger had been forced to endure, and one that would be avenged.

The brand burnt into the confectioner’s hand, however, was worse by far. Krishna’s eyes continued to be drawn to it. He tried to hold back his emotion, but even for the normally cold man stoicism held no reprieve. The stab wound was bad enough, but it had come from an enemy. The blistering, key-shaped burn… had been done by one of their own. By a King for whom Serpentine once thought he would do anything. The injustice of it and the guilt over having failed to protect Richard once again were wounds to his proud nature, yes, but also sunk deeper into his heart.

The tears rolled down his face like streaks of melted copper. The florist made no move to wipe them away. Instead, he took hold of Richard’s uninjured hand and carefully covered it with his own. Words that hardly ever fell from his lips came now, raw and sincere even if tinged with anger, “I’m sorry. This… you were not meant for this.”

Of all the questions to ask, of course Richard would go for the most obvious. In his vulnerable state, the florist was even more prone to anger than normal. He snapped immediately, only now running his sleeve across his eyes to be rid of the infuriating liquid, “Does that matter now? When you lie there…” The words clogged in his throat, and the other man squeezed his friend’s hand whenever he could speak no longer. Speech was not his friend, not his gift… words were Richard’s weapons. He could not rely on them now, not when they would not cause anything to change.

After this outburst, his tone quieted to a more normal level. It was not fair to his partner, his friend, to yell at him. Especially when his anger was not directed at him, not truly. “You told me you would be careful, safe. Instead, here we are. From now on, I go with you. To do what must be done.” Perhaps the message, and its severity, would be lost on someone who could barely register the environment around him. Yet, Krishna had to speak those words, had to reassure his partner that he would not suffer alone. Both Serpentine and Buddingtonite would take the required starseeds and deliver them before the General King. Both Generals would bear the brand on their hands, one more set of matching marks to accompany the tattoos on their arms. “You will never be alone again.”

The teenaged candy striper knew that she should not be eavesdropping. It was unprofessional, and if the nurses caught her, then she’d be reassigned to a different position for sure. But.. well, she just couldn’t help herself! This was what, the third time that handsome red-haired gentleman had been admitted, and now this dreamy Indian man was here? Their conversation also melted her heart as she sighed softly to herself, “Oooh, they are such a cute coooouple~”

The florist was not fooled by the smile that his injured friend conjured up, but he allowed the candymaker his delusion. Silence was Krishna’s comfort; smiles and speech were Richard’s. His grip never faltered, that one point of prolonged physical contact a powerful indicator of the depth of his emotion. Normally, he would block out the additional, needless speech… but now, it was a relief to hear those words flow out of his partner. There was truth to his words, but the florist pointed out softly, “Because of me.”

To follow up on this acceptance of his role in this situation, Krishna shook his head at Richard’s protest that he need not accept punishment. “Wrong. There is much need. You fought in our name, meaning we both accept the consequences.” Krishna looked again at Richard’s branded hand. The ugly, distinctive burn offended him on an emotional and physical level, but he had to grow used to looking at it. It would soon adorn his hand as well. The instant the General-King had branded Buddingtonite, it was a foregone conclusion that Serpentine would be marked. “Never forget; we are one.”

The last, hushed statement came rushed from his lips due to the door opening. A purple-haired girl in a pink-and-white striped dress fell over from her crouching position… and she immediately blurted out, “Oh, um, sorry! I just didn’t want to interrupt. It seemed a little personal… a-anyway, is there anything I can get for anyone? Or a nurse to fetch?”

The other figure, however, had no such difficulty. He stood tall and fixed in the doorway. The florist would recognize that dyed blue hair and deep scowl anywhere. He did not rise or shift his position as he greeted simply, “Daran.”

Krishna arched an eyebrow, but he did not verbally protest. It did not take an incredible amount of sensitivity to read the fury in Daran’s movements or to hear the thunder in his voice. If someone were to try and guess which brother was the taciturn man’s friend, they would probably choose the one who chose to dye his hair blue. Both Krishna and Daran worked hard at their trade. Both were proponents of action rather than speech. Both cared an incredible amount for the confectioner that currently squirmed in his sheets. For these reasons, the two of them normally got along fairly well. Today seemed to be a notable exception.

He would not have intervened at all if not for the obvious distress in Richard’s face. The Indian did not remove his grip from his friend’s hand, but he still turned to fully face Daran. It was a strangely delicate position in which he found himself. He empathized, in a way that the other man would not understand, with Daran’s anger and frustration. Yet, his partner had already suffered too much to be made to fear more. As of yet, Krishna did not rise from his chair, not yet, but the threat of such intervention was clear as he spoke, “Calm yourself. He is safe now.”

The candy striper stood there with her brown eyes wide and her fingers twirling strand after strand of her purple hair around themselves as she continued to blatantly stare at the scene before her. What was this? A third, hunky man to add to the mix? A former boyfriend? A current boyfriend? Oh, it just kept getting juicier and juicier and she knew, she knew she should be going to assist the second nurse who had come in to try and quiet down the rambunctious one, but all she could do was squeal and make notes. Her Tumblr was not going to believe this situation had come up before her very eyes!

The florist did not so much as flinch beneath Daran’s assault. He had faced worse, far worse, both mentally and physically in his life even before he became a Negaverse General. His grip on Richard’s hand tightened reflexively as he endured the screaming and then the much more painful whispering. Beneath the pain, his own temper flared. His ego would not allow someone to question him in this manner even if he could agree with some of the statements. “Yes. I do know. I will always know, and when it is time? So will you. Not before.”

Despite his haughty tone, Krishna wanted to tell Daran the truth. He had no moral qualms about lying, when there was need; similarly, he had no trouble withholding the truth. Yet, in this case, he felt that the truth was the muscular man’s right. Both Richard and Daran had suffered much since the confectioner became Buddingtonite - and only one of them fully understood why. If Brahma had been the one to constantly end up in the hospital, to have periods of weakness followed by sudden bursts of strength… who saw their shop destroyed, their mother die, and was obviously hiding something? In such a case, the florist knew that he would be acting just as Daran did now. Actually… he would be acting in a manner which made the blue-haired man’s outburst seem tame by comparison.

The feel of bandages against his skin was enough to finally force him to break eye contact with his attacker. Seeing Richard’s discomfort prompted immediate action. So focused had he been on controlling his temper, maintaining his defensive posture, that he had not even noticed his partner’s struggles until now. Krishna released his strong hold on the man’s good hand and unconsciously wiped his sweaty palm against his pants leg. There would be no rest until Daran departed, one way or the other. He knew what had to be done. “Soon. Once we talk.”

The ‘we’ did not include the furious brother. For that, the Indian turned and glared at the candy striper who stood there with an insipid look on her face and the flustered, plump nurse who had begun wringing her hands.”You two. Fetch a doctor for him. I will see Daran out.”

The candy striper could do little when the rainbow-haired man barked at her but grin in that oh-god-if-I-open-my-mouth-I’m-going-to-puke way. The head nurse, however, took control and immediately left to get a doctor. Satisfied his demands were met, and seeing that the other Moreau twin was heading out, the florist also took his leave. He did not tell Richard that he would be back soon. There was no need. Where else would Krishna be, if not at his friend’s side?

The world on the other side of the sliding glass doors was muggier and warmer than the cold, sterile hospital room. The scent of rain and spring flowers mingling together was soothing to Krishna’s damaged ego, but his companion seemed to take little comfort in it. There was precious little comfort to be had, this day, for either of them. The salt from his earlier tears left his face feeling stiff and taut when he stared off into the sunset, and he made a mental note to wash in the restroom before returning to Richard. No matter how dire the circumstances, how bruised his emotions, his appearance could not falter. His pride and vanity would not allow it.

When they reached the parking lot, the Indian listened to Daran demand once more to be told the truth. His reasoning was sound, his request just… but it could not be honored. In a rare moment of open kindness, he reached over to lay a calloused hand on Daran’s shoulder. He hoped to convey his sincerity as he announced bluntly, “I would tell you, if I could - but there is nothing you can do. You must trust me to act for you.”

His arms folded resolutely over his chest to make it clear that he would not budge. A tightening of his jaw was the best indication of his own discomfort with the situation. By all rights, vengeance belonged to the blue-haired man. Retaliation against Zinkenite was… impossible. Impossible because the florist was no traitor, and impossible even if he had been, given the other man’s control over Chaos. Retaliation against the Dark Mirror Senshi, however, was well within his grasp. Would a few starseeds on Daran’s doorstep let him see that vengeance had been achieved? Or would they only matter if he could rip them out himself, with his own hands? Krishna would have eagerly welcomed him, were the choice his and not Richard’s to make. ’Tonight, we decide. This limbo is unfair to us all.’

The distrust was understandable, on some level, given Daran’s necessary ignorance. The fact that the bluenette followed the statement up with praise for Krishna’s hard work and a confession that he respected him was enough to soothe the florist’s ego. He kept his expression passive against the accusations because… they were absolutely correct. Krishna was hiding many things, and he was certainly involved. He was content to let Richard’s brother rage at him--until the punch was thrown.

Krishna’s arms had been folded against his chest, so he had no means of defense whenever the swing unexpectedly came for his chin. It connected solidly, knocking his jaw in such a way that his teeth scraped against the inside of his lip. The taste of blood, warm, familiar, infuriating, prompted immediate retaliation. He swung a punch of his own into Daran’s stomach and then took the opportunity it provided to slide behind the other man. One arm went under his armpits to pull him up straight, the other around Daran’s throat.

From this position, the florist squeezed the hold against Daran’s throat enough to show that, had he wished, he could harm as easily as he could hold back. It would not be the first time that he had left a bruise around the throat of one named Moreau… and the memory of that mark against Buddingtonite’s pale throat was what made him loosen his grip enough for the blue-haired brother to speak, should he wish. All the same, fury pulsed through him, as toxic as any amount of Chaos. The other would dare to suggest that Krishna, who had saved RIchard from Bischofite, who had called the police at risk to himself on the night Lucca had transformed into a youma, who had sworn to defend him, would ever harm him?! Daran knew none of the details of these situations, but the two had seen each other enough for him to know that the rainbow-haired florist was a friend and not an enemy.

The situation was all the worse because Krishna did accept responsibility for his partner’s state. His hand might not have held the brand or sliced open Richard’s side… but in allowing his friend to go alone, he had exposed the candymaker to this danger. He knew it, he felt it, he had spilled tears over it… but that did not mean anyone else was allowed to criticize him or his perfection. Not without retaliation.

A cascade of words dripped from his lips like liquid nitrogen to land into the tax analyst’s ear, the amount of them as off putting as the tone, “Me? Your hysterical tantrum has blinded you, Daran. Have I ever raised a hand to you - or to him - that was not in support? We live in a world of monsters; Richard and I know it well. Friends are necessary, as are secrets, for protection. Your nonsense shows that your brother was right about your readiness. You are lucky that I still feel obligated to speak on your behalf.”

The florist released Daran from his hold and shoved him towards the nearest car. Without another word he stormed across the asphalt, past the sliding doors and straight into the bathroom. Now he had tears and blood to scrub from his face before he could return to Richard’s side. There could be no doubt now. One way or another, a decision would be made tonight regarding the twin’s future.

Krishna ran the tap until it was steaming from the faucet. A paper towel would be rough against his skin, but he would make up for the mistreatment later with additional moisturizer. He had to get the salt, the blood off of his skin. The pink hospital soap had only a gentle fragrance, so at least washing his face with it would not cause him to reek of coconut or some other fruity smell.

Face cleaned, he made his way directly to Richard’s hospital room. He felt… better, knowing that his face was once again appropriate of his high standards. He was ready to begin having his conversation with his friend… but when he walked in, the candy striper was half-sitting on the bed, a cell phone out to try and snap a photo of the two of them. With a growl, he snapped, “Get out.”

“H-h-hey, he was the one who said--”

“Get. Out.” Normally a patient man, Krishna was in no mood to continue this conversation any longer. He did not physically assault the girl; his glare was enough for her to cease smoothing her pink-and-white striped skirt and instead scurry out of the room. As soon as she left, the florist closed and locked the door to the room. No more interruptions. “Richard. We must discuss Daran.”