I can't think what I'd get that's so expansive. Though it doesn't matter. If I tire of it, I'll cut it off and regrow the skin.
[. . . Speaking of.]
I think I ought to go to the med bay. It's only a question of how long I ought to try to heal. There are repercussions equal to the length of time one spends in there.
[She honestly needs. Like. A lot of help. Both of her legs are broken. One is just like, jutting out wrong to the side, but the other leg seems crushed. How did she even walk on this. She wears clothes that cover her whole body but like. It really looks like something crunched on her.]
[maam how the FUCK did you get to your room!!!! hello?????
well she's tiny (even if she's holding a sword too), so, probably the best solution outside of finding a wheelchair is just picking her up and hoping she can tolerate it long enough to get to the medbay.]
[She walked? It's fine. She really is tiny and the sword, while heavy, only adds a few pounds. He should be able to lift her just fine. It's painful, but she can tolerate it.]
I'm not a stranger to pain.
[She's lifted up, biting hard against the hiss of breath when she's moved, but - that's all. She's shaky, again, and just starts talking, the words fast and angry.]
It was pathetic how this happened. Pathetic. We had nearly succeeded in getting away from those - disgusting, monstrous things, and then I simply. Saw something I couldn't see, and fainted then and there, despite the peril it put the others in.
I tire of being an invalid. I tire of being a burden to others.
[Somehow he'll get the sense that none of this is whatever caused the emotion that had her sobbing; it comes from a different place, more okay to talk about.]
[strength score . . . . . . bad, but it's fine, probably. He doesn't give her any sort of pity looks or anything at that hiss, since she'd likely hate that shit. Just a few little more of those almost automatic alright come on and you're fine's like you're talking to a kid that fell over instead of a almost grown adult who clearly got smooshed by something.]
You aren't an invalid - you walked on, what is this? Two broken legs all the way to your damn room? And you aren't a burden. Barely weigh anything. Whole point of having a group is you can lean on each other. [Fuck you, this is definitely a collaborative exercise?] I'm sure you either saved their arses from something earlier or you'll get them next fight that comes around. You fought something and survived, and that's all that matters right now.
[Strength score bad, but she's also really tiny and emaciated.]
Actually, we all died.
[So. Not really. She just says that extremely tiredly, like it's a flip objection to what he said.]
But that was later. You're probably right, about the fighting. I was able to even the scales somewhat, except - [She sighs, a little pathetic, pained and rambling a little.] I have taken so much already, both what was offered and what was stolen. The scales can never be even. They never have been, from the day of my birth. It is so pointless to try to make it right.
[Well, uh? His grip tightens when she says that? Hello? What the hell? Don't just say you died so casually? That's the thing he's sensitive about? But he doesn't say anything else, except make a face.]
Then fuck it. Who cares about a perfect balance. So you've gotten some lucky turns, taken more than your fair share. Don't be ashamed about just fucking taking it if that's what you need. Just do what you can to try and give it back where you can. No one's adding it up at the end of it all, I can tell you that.
[She's. . . she's going to just start crying again. Sorry. Her breath is hitching even harder, in pained little gasps, because it's really just so much worse to cry on somebody twice. While they're carrying you like a baby. There's no recovering from that, really. But it's happening anyway.]
[oh god his streak of making mean lesbians burst into tears is so bad this game
there really is no recovering from that no, you are now his water bottle to try and take care of forever? you little baby? sweet little crybaby having a lot of feelings.
He's, uh, just trying to go faster to get to the medbay at least because he can tell this probably hurts like absolute hell.]
[She sniffles back tears, aware of her permanent sad little feelings baby status with him. It's disgusting, but it's less disgusting somehow because Mollymauk is just. . . the type of person who would never use your feelings as a cudgel against you. Harrowhark tends to think all people are that type of person, regularly mistakes kindness for condescension, but it's obvious with him. If she had to be a pathetic little goth baby at someone, at least it's him.]
[No, Mollymauk wouldn't. Or at the very least, he tries not to be. He won't claim he's perfect in that regard, that he doesn't get the urge to be petty or cruel occasionally, but not with this.
At the very least he's gotten her as far as the medbay, just waiting for the dumb sci-fi doors to open.]
Okay, come on, into the thing. I don't know how it works, so you'll have to show me.
[She's used the pod before, so she knows how to do it. She might need some help climbing in there, but it'll be easier if she can try to get in there on her own.]
[She's getting herself settled in, asking the question a little groggily.]
Ordinarily I could knit my own bones and flesh back together. Though I ought not to mislead you - as a Lyctor, I am a rather miserable failure, but the bones and flesh I can do.
[Beep boop boop beep healing pod.]
. . . How long until midnight? [FYI the answer to this is probably like. . . three and a half hours.]
[Oh! He holds up a finger in a hold on! gesture and digs in his coat pockets, before pulling out a gold wristwatch and holding it up for her to read it..]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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. . . Not in red.
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she doesnt even know if hes any good or not]
What color would you like? Easy enough to get.
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[Duh?]
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[yeah definitely should. He'll hold his arm up, the one with the snake in the field of flowers wrapped around it.]
You'll be wanting a full sleeve, correct?
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[. . . Speaking of.]
I think I ought to go to the med bay. It's only a question of how long I ought to try to heal. There are repercussions equal to the length of time one spends in there.
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Mm. Perhaps just enough so you can move around properly. Just in case.
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Alright. I'll help you up.
[Because this is a collaborative exercise, binch.]
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well she's tiny (even if she's holding a sword too), so, probably the best solution outside of finding a wheelchair is just picking her up and hoping she can tolerate it long enough to get to the medbay.]
. . . This is going to hurt. Sorry.
[scoop!!]
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I'm not a stranger to pain.
[She's lifted up, biting hard against the hiss of breath when she's moved, but - that's all. She's shaky, again, and just starts talking, the words fast and angry.]
It was pathetic how this happened. Pathetic. We had nearly succeeded in getting away from those - disgusting, monstrous things, and then I simply. Saw something I couldn't see, and fainted then and there, despite the peril it put the others in.
I tire of being an invalid. I tire of being a burden to others.
[Somehow he'll get the sense that none of this is whatever caused the emotion that had her sobbing; it comes from a different place, more okay to talk about.]
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You aren't an invalid - you walked on, what is this? Two broken legs all the way to your damn room? And you aren't a burden. Barely weigh anything. Whole point of having a group is you can lean on each other. [Fuck you, this is definitely a collaborative exercise?] I'm sure you either saved their arses from something earlier or you'll get them next fight that comes around. You fought something and survived, and that's all that matters right now.
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Actually, we all died.
[So. Not really. She just says that extremely tiredly, like it's a flip objection to what he said.]
But that was later. You're probably right, about the fighting. I was able to even the scales somewhat, except - [She sighs, a little pathetic, pained and rambling a little.] I have taken so much already, both what was offered and what was stolen. The scales can never be even. They never have been, from the day of my birth. It is so pointless to try to make it right.
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[Well, uh? His grip tightens when she says that? Hello? What the hell? Don't just say you died so casually? That's the thing he's sensitive about? But he doesn't say anything else, except make a face.]
Then fuck it. Who cares about a perfect balance. So you've gotten some lucky turns, taken more than your fair share. Don't be ashamed about just fucking taking it if that's what you need. Just do what you can to try and give it back where you can. No one's adding it up at the end of it all, I can tell you that.
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No. I don't want it. I don't want it.
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there really is no recovering from that no, you are now his water bottle to try and take care of forever? you little baby? sweet little crybaby having a lot of feelings.
He's, uh, just trying to go faster to get to the medbay at least because he can tell this probably hurts like absolute hell.]
Hey-- okay! Alright, alright. I'm sorry.
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[She sniffles back tears, aware of her permanent sad little feelings baby status with him. It's disgusting, but it's less disgusting somehow because Mollymauk is just. . . the type of person who would never use your feelings as a cudgel against you. Harrowhark tends to think all people are that type of person, regularly mistakes kindness for condescension, but it's obvious with him. If she had to be a pathetic little goth baby at someone, at least it's him.]
You haven't said anything wrong.
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At the very least he's gotten her as far as the medbay, just waiting for the dumb sci-fi doors to open.]
Okay, come on, into the thing. I don't know how it works, so you'll have to show me.
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[She's used the pod before, so she knows how to do it. She might need some help climbing in there, but it'll be easier if she can try to get in there on her own.]
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Convenient, this thing, when there's no clerics around.
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[She's getting herself settled in, asking the question a little groggily.]
Ordinarily I could knit my own bones and flesh back together. Though I ought not to mislead you - as a Lyctor, I am a rather miserable failure, but the bones and flesh I can do.
[Beep boop boop beep healing pod.]
. . . How long until midnight? [FYI the answer to this is probably like. . . three and a half hours.]
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[She doesn't care for healing spells though.]
I'd say that's rather impressive, but what do I know. [Sniff.] Uh, few hours, probably. Didn't really check the time.
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[Maybe that's a rude question, but she doesn't mean it that way. If he can't read writing, then. . .]
The side effects last for the same length of time spent in here. I need to ensure I don't overstay.
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