( he's never had a wound so grievous before. or, well, no, that's not the case — he's never felt a wound feel so grievous. he's had his head removed nearly a half-dozen times at this point (at least one or two of those had been of his own accord), and he'd also been savagely bitten by the shade of J's mentor, but at the time he'd been a demon both bound and bolstered by the laws of hell. violence wouldn't be able to kill him. the pain could make one wish for death, certainly, but all he'd had to do was sew himself back together and all would be fine soon enough.
that doesn't feel like the case here. after he'd been stabbed, in the haze of shock and pain, he had felt his life ebbing away with the blood as it rushed to escape his body. he very well could have bled out. it's a bizarre thing to consider — in hell, he had been denied the ability to die, even if the pain of existing on was unbearable. and now... well, even if he did, his shard would remain, wouldn't it? he may not be shackled by the laws of hell, but he's traded them for that of being an Aion.
he shakes his head. ) No, no - it's fine. Sir, I appreciate your offer of aid. ( how much assistance does he need, indeed... he has to consider it for a moment before continuing. ) Please, if you would, just - lend me your arm so I can stand and walk. That should be enough.
( he already knows it's going to kill, but he feels like he could weather the physical pain in his chest better than the psychic pain of being bodily carried back to his chambers. he reaches out to take gurbahl's arm when extended, and he's easy enough to support; he barely seems to weigh anything at all. one standing, he takes a moment to adjust to his own two legs again, and then he indicates they can start walking toward the personal chambers. it's slow going, but they're on their way.
food... logically he knows he should eat something at some point, but the idea of doing so right now, with what feels like a riot of razor blades festering beneath and within his ribs, is perfectly abhorrent. ) Yes, but... not right now. ( he's not even sure what sort of internal damage he suffered. if there was any injury made to his gut, he feels he should give it some time to mend itself before eating anything. ) I'll send my retainer for something later. For now - I might just ask you stay nearby just in case I take an unexpected turn for the worse.
( he seems begrudging in that, but it seems like a necessity. he doesn't think it will happen, but...?? he's never really been this mortally fucked-up before. )
[Meteion is quick to shore up M's other side--she doesn't look like much, but the entelechy is enough to ensure walking straight, and hopefully, not making what wounds M has inside any worse. He might even have his arm leaned on her head, but if that's the case, she clearly doesn't mind.]
Okay. That is fair. I...don't really know how insides work, so...
[That admission has Meteion blushing, and Gurbahl, who had just nodded at M's gratitude--the big man seems to have realized making as little as possible of it was the right idea--well, he's laughing outright at his small lady. She just gives him a grin--clearly, they are friends as well as mistress and servant, which...isn't that just like the bird?]
I can stay close until you feel better. Gurbahl can go about his business--I figure the smaller your audience, the better you'll feel. Maybe you can sleep a little. I mean you no harm--in no way will I hurt you after I've done my best to fix you! I'll do my best to not annoy you, too.
[Meteion's aware that some people find her friendliness and general happiness...taxing, and when M is trying to rest and heal, her being quiet is probably the best thing she can do.]
Are there many doors left to your room? This is the proper hallway, isn't it?
( meteion might not look like much, but fortunately makoto isn't much either, a slight slip of a demon that could scarcely weigh much more than a hundred pounds even soaking wet. she is gentle and careful enough that she doesn't cause him any undue discomfort, and this... is something he certainly notices. he's been in varying states of disarray ever since losing his head and becoming a demon, but he can't say he's ever been treated with delicacy. upon first removing his head, J had tucked it under his arm in the same breath that he had congratulated himself on a job well done. it has always been the demon's prerogative to impress upon makoto that he was essentially a possession of his, so the markedly different way that meteion helps him...
it's... strange. and not necessarily in a way that he interprets as good, though he probably should. instead he can't help but be a little mistrustful of it, like a dog which has been struck too many times to expect anything good from the movement of a person's hand.
still, he bares a grimace at her comment, deriving humor from some kind of inside joke. ) It's too bad - under different circumstances, I could have recommended you some books to help with that, if you were interested.
( his taste in literature while still human had been... macabre, to say the least.
as she continues, he has to stifle a laugh (and mostly because it hurts to laugh in a state like this). he shakes his head. ) You likely saved my life... I owe you at least some modicum of trust. ( and temperance, though he couldn't say he finds her annoying or anything? it's hard to be that petty about someone who just helped you avoid bleeding out on the floor.
they continue along, and he pauses in his steps a half-moment before nodding and indicating a door on the left a short distance ahead, ) Up there. Four doors down, on the left.
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that doesn't feel like the case here. after he'd been stabbed, in the haze of shock and pain, he had felt his life ebbing away with the blood as it rushed to escape his body. he very well could have bled out. it's a bizarre thing to consider — in hell, he had been denied the ability to die, even if the pain of existing on was unbearable. and now... well, even if he did, his shard would remain, wouldn't it? he may not be shackled by the laws of hell, but he's traded them for that of being an Aion.
he shakes his head. ) No, no - it's fine. Sir, I appreciate your offer of aid. ( how much assistance does he need, indeed... he has to consider it for a moment before continuing. ) Please, if you would, just - lend me your arm so I can stand and walk. That should be enough.
( he already knows it's going to kill, but he feels like he could weather the physical pain in his chest better than the psychic pain of being bodily carried back to his chambers. he reaches out to take gurbahl's arm when extended, and he's easy enough to support; he barely seems to weigh anything at all. one standing, he takes a moment to adjust to his own two legs again, and then he indicates they can start walking toward the personal chambers. it's slow going, but they're on their way.
food... logically he knows he should eat something at some point, but the idea of doing so right now, with what feels like a riot of razor blades festering beneath and within his ribs, is perfectly abhorrent. ) Yes, but... not right now. ( he's not even sure what sort of internal damage he suffered. if there was any injury made to his gut, he feels he should give it some time to mend itself before eating anything. ) I'll send my retainer for something later. For now - I might just ask you stay nearby just in case I take an unexpected turn for the worse.
( he seems begrudging in that, but it seems like a necessity. he doesn't think it will happen, but...?? he's never really been this mortally fucked-up before. )
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Okay. That is fair. I...don't really know how insides work, so...
[That admission has Meteion blushing, and Gurbahl, who had just nodded at M's gratitude--the big man seems to have realized making as little as possible of it was the right idea--well, he's laughing outright at his small lady. She just gives him a grin--clearly, they are friends as well as mistress and servant, which...isn't that just like the bird?]
I can stay close until you feel better. Gurbahl can go about his business--I figure the smaller your audience, the better you'll feel. Maybe you can sleep a little. I mean you no harm--in no way will I hurt you after I've done my best to fix you! I'll do my best to not annoy you, too.
[Meteion's aware that some people find her friendliness and general happiness...taxing, and when M is trying to rest and heal, her being quiet is probably the best thing she can do.]
Are there many doors left to your room? This is the proper hallway, isn't it?
no subject
it's... strange. and not necessarily in a way that he interprets as good, though he probably should. instead he can't help but be a little mistrustful of it, like a dog which has been struck too many times to expect anything good from the movement of a person's hand.
still, he bares a grimace at her comment, deriving humor from some kind of inside joke. ) It's too bad - under different circumstances, I could have recommended you some books to help with that, if you were interested.
( his taste in literature while still human had been... macabre, to say the least.
as she continues, he has to stifle a laugh (and mostly because it hurts to laugh in a state like this). he shakes his head. ) You likely saved my life... I owe you at least some modicum of trust. ( and temperance, though he couldn't say he finds her annoying or anything? it's hard to be that petty about someone who just helped you avoid bleeding out on the floor.
they continue along, and he pauses in his steps a half-moment before nodding and indicating a door on the left a short distance ahead, ) Up there. Four doors down, on the left.