SION ASTAL. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sunderings) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
overjoyed_logs2017-04-16 12:09 am
sunderings) wrote in overjoyed_logs2017-04-16 12:09 am
[CLOSED] like waking up from a fantasy
Who: Julius & Sion
Where: Leith
When: W9D3
Summary: Company supply collection, nanotech malfunction, and hand-holding. Oh my.
Restrictions/Warnings: Light body horror and violence?? Will update as needed!
[ Though the Director had arrived upon Leith while its vast farmland still burned, ash falling thick as snow from the sky, it had been in the days after, and upon receiving a Company wide directive—maintain the peace—that he had again found himself at Julius' side. Had he not volunteered himself for a task in the field, Sion would have likely received instruction to move into another's office, to share a desk, but for having taking the initiative, the present sees him overseeing the gathering and reallocation of supplies; of food which is desperately needed both moon and Quad-wide. And perhaps selfishly, he'd taken Julius as escort, partner, and guard, participating in the collection of funds by paying visit to the estate which he had once called his childhood home.
As expected, the reception they'd received had been cold but polite, the distant cousins which had claimed his late father's trade empire and wealth bending not to Sion, nor to Julius, but to the uniforms they donned—the Company's influence by far stronger than blood in their noble regard. Still, Sion had smiled, cordial in their discussions of monetary donations, wishing the family which he did not know good health and prosperity despite--...
Seeming unwell to the discerning eye (Julius' gaze), agitation manifesting in the most minute of ways (involuntary flexes of his fingers, quickened breath, and a heavy aura of disquiet settling upon him where the Director is so often serene). But the audience draws to a close all the same, and after giving warm words of parting—call upon me, should you be in need of anything—they take their leave with a proffered sum of joy, though they do not make it far before: ]
Julius. [ —so soft is the sound of Sion's voice that it is almost startling, perhaps more so than the sight of that which is revealed when the Director removes the leather of his right glove from his hand: vivid gold, light limning from beneath the skin in patterns which do not mirror that of blood vessels, but those of circuitry. ]
Something... [ He gives pause, as though it were overwhelming to speak, and in a way it is—beyond the thrum of pain he bears day in and day out, there is something else, a sensation of everything in him being overturned, the programmable matter he is a vessel for coursing throughout the whole of his body as though it were a thing alive. ] ...is wrong with me.
[ And whatever it may be, worsens by the instant, the vivid gold patterning creeping up, along Sion's jawline like the spread of a virus, the glow of it just visible from beneath the edge of his jacket-collar. ]
Keep your distance.
Where: Leith
When: W9D3
Summary: Company supply collection, nanotech malfunction, and hand-holding. Oh my.
Restrictions/Warnings: Light body horror and violence?? Will update as needed!
[ Though the Director had arrived upon Leith while its vast farmland still burned, ash falling thick as snow from the sky, it had been in the days after, and upon receiving a Company wide directive—maintain the peace—that he had again found himself at Julius' side. Had he not volunteered himself for a task in the field, Sion would have likely received instruction to move into another's office, to share a desk, but for having taking the initiative, the present sees him overseeing the gathering and reallocation of supplies; of food which is desperately needed both moon and Quad-wide. And perhaps selfishly, he'd taken Julius as escort, partner, and guard, participating in the collection of funds by paying visit to the estate which he had once called his childhood home.
As expected, the reception they'd received had been cold but polite, the distant cousins which had claimed his late father's trade empire and wealth bending not to Sion, nor to Julius, but to the uniforms they donned—the Company's influence by far stronger than blood in their noble regard. Still, Sion had smiled, cordial in their discussions of monetary donations, wishing the family which he did not know good health and prosperity despite--...
Seeming unwell to the discerning eye (Julius' gaze), agitation manifesting in the most minute of ways (involuntary flexes of his fingers, quickened breath, and a heavy aura of disquiet settling upon him where the Director is so often serene). But the audience draws to a close all the same, and after giving warm words of parting—call upon me, should you be in need of anything—they take their leave with a proffered sum of joy, though they do not make it far before: ]
Julius. [ —so soft is the sound of Sion's voice that it is almost startling, perhaps more so than the sight of that which is revealed when the Director removes the leather of his right glove from his hand: vivid gold, light limning from beneath the skin in patterns which do not mirror that of blood vessels, but those of circuitry. ]
Something... [ He gives pause, as though it were overwhelming to speak, and in a way it is—beyond the thrum of pain he bears day in and day out, there is something else, a sensation of everything in him being overturned, the programmable matter he is a vessel for coursing throughout the whole of his body as though it were a thing alive. ] ...is wrong with me.
[ And whatever it may be, worsens by the instant, the vivid gold patterning creeping up, along Sion's jawline like the spread of a virus, the glow of it just visible from beneath the edge of his jacket-collar. ]
Keep your distance.
no subject
After the job is done, the routine would be to return to headquarters and file the closing reports. Sion's unease had not been missed, though Julius does not show it - the act would not be helpful for their task, so only now does he make it known.
Perhaps a little ironic that Sion is the one experiencing a loss of control; a role reversal for the two of them. But he holds his ground, a frown creasing his features, mind shifting to analytical gear.
If there is a problem, it needs to be solved. ]
How exactly do you feel?
no subject
[ Perhaps forgotten, the glove divested from the Director's hand falls to the ground, Sion's focus gone somewhere else entirely in an endeavor to center himself; to still the programmable matter which raced through the circuitry of his body with an intensity which burned, its intricate pathways glowing all the more brightly through the skin like some beautiful, otherworldly equation. But the programmable matter only courses all the more quickly, its lines visible in their encroachment upon the rest of Sion's body, rising from jawline to the slender arch of the Director's cheek without impetus.
Designed himself to be the catalyst which configured the nanoscale robots which together comprised programmable matter, there has never been an instance where the atoms within Sion's body did not move in accordance with his will. Until the here and now, in this moment where Sion finds himself suspended in a slow arch of what feels like terror, but that is not precisely what Julius has asked of him.
Physically, how does he feel...? ]
...the programmable matter I house needs to be actualized. [ It is a sound answer, voiced in only the most even of intonations as Sion's eyes fall closed, lashes fanning white as snow across his cheeks as he forces himself calm: ] I am experiencing difficulty with controlling it.
[ But as for why, Sion cannot say, knowing only that for all the malfunction's onset had been slow, easily restrained during negotiations with his relatives, his grasp upon it is faltering. Failing. And had his awareness not been comprised, he might have noticed the approach of five others, Leithians who would normally have no place venturing so close to a noble family's estate. ]
"Pʀᴏɢʀᴀᴍᴍᴀʙʟᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ, ʜᴜʜ? Sᴏᴜɴᴅs ᴠᴀʟᴜᴀʙʟᴇ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ, ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ᴀ ʜɪɢʜᴇʀ ᴘʀɪᴄᴇᴅ ᴛɪᴄᴋᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴇ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɢʟᴇᴀɴᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇsᴛᴀᴛᴇ ʏᴏᴜ Cᴏᴍᴘᴀɴʏ ʙᴀsᴛᴀʀᴅs ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀᴇᴅ ғʀᴏᴍ."
[ —one speaks up with a grin, the others conferring amongst themselves, and something sinks in Sion's chest even as he adjusts his stance, becoming imposing and militant in an instant. ]
You have just confessed intent to commit a crime to a Company officer, citizen. It will merit further investigation, lest you stand down and rescind your word.
[ But as much does not appear to be the band's intent, for they quickly regroup, encircling Sion and Julius both. ]
"Nᴀʜ. Tʜɪɴᴋ ᴡᴇ'ʟʟ ᴊᴜsᴛ ǫᴜɪᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ, sᴛʀɪᴘ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴇᴄʜ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɴ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇsᴛᴀᴛᴇ. Nᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀʏ, ʀɪɢʜᴛ?"
no subject
Only five of them. His imperative is to protect Sion, of course, but that's not so difficult with only five people. He can possibly cut down several at one go, since he had his blade with him. Grey eyes narrow, and while his voice maintains its usual stoic tone, the sharpness in his gaze lent it a terrifying edge. ]
If you will not come quietly, then we will make you.
[ As if speaking to a child, because these vermin do not deserve to live.
One of the quicker-minded bandits draws a knife and another a gun (both easily-concealed weapons), but neither of them seem to faze him. Julius is merely standing by Sion's side in one moment and his sword is already tracing an arc around them the next; Volitional unbuckled from his waist almost too quickly for the eye to follow. The bandits on his side scatter out of range, and one of them successfully puts a shot into Julius' arm.
A pity, because it does absolutely nothing to slow him down.
He hefts his blade and puts a plasma slug into the man's chest before lunging for the others, electricity now crackling along the sword's edge to stun whoever it touched. Battle comes naturally, wired into his blood and mind, his stance lithe and fast as the wolf that gave his ship its name. Sion is left to fend for himself in these few seconds, but if he's able to down the three that are on his side then they would have time. ]
no subject
Julius... your ability is something like this...? Such that the Enforcer, wounded by the bandit who has been knocked clean of breath and toppled, face down in the dirt beneath the Director's heel, seems not to notice the injury he's freshly sustained, carrying on with combat which Sion dares not turn his head to glimpse, but hears all the same in the crackle of electricity which dances along Volitional's blade.
That hum of of voltage and of current--...
It is amplified in the moment when the Director realizes he cannot wholly contribute to the conflict (...I need to defend him...) at hand so long as he battles the programmable matter burning through the conduit of his body. And so, he relents, for love of his comrade and want to protect him, choosing to allow the technology to take shape rather than to permit Julius to fight alone.
In the breadth of a moment, the programmable matter actualizes into a form with which Julius might be familiar: walls of light to sequester away the two bandits which remain.
Once, together with a cherished friend, Julius and Sion had been supported by the very same structures as they'd cavorted through the sky, but now--... Something is different, something is amiss. The glittering constructs are glaring to look at, licking and lapping at the prisoners which they confine with heat scalding enough to sear flesh over to waxy white: the programmable matter which should have only immobilized could very well prove to be lethal, if not countermanded in time.
And there are screams, cries of spare us, please! not only from the bandits entrapped and exposed to the merciless blaze of light, but from their companion who remains pinned beneath Sion's boot, the Director's toebox and heel perfectly aligned with the man's spine.
(If you will not come quietly, Julius had cautioned.) ]
I--... [ Much to his horror, the Director finds himself frozen, unable to move as the barrier expands, scarring the surrounding vegetation and land in its encroachment. And as the light eats away at the landscape, so too does it take a toll upon Sion himself, its increasing size and swelling height too taxing to sustain for long without the vessel for the programmable matter burning out.
But this is what not Sion fears the most, but instead: ] I cannot stop it from hurting them, Julius.
no subject
- but Sion is, after all, his priority, and he has to address that situation first.
Three things fall into place in his mind, facts that would not have come together if not for their friendship, and the newfound strength that it had given him.
If it was programmable, then it can be controlled. Perhaps keyed to Sion only, but Julius had his own power, a power now made manifest by the changes he had gone through. If he could use it to control his ship, then - ]
Give me your hand, quick.
[ His grip is tight, perhaps uncomfortably so, but they have no time. White branches snake out from the ports on his back, under his shirt, and out through one sleeve; plugging themselves into the vents from which the programmable matter had let themselves out, calling upon a will that he had previously used only to bind himself.
A will strong enough to fight death, to command a legion of tin soldiers each as complex as a human mind, to c̬̹o̬̫͍̖͙̳̬n̖t̴̹͖̮̦̫͍r̩̦̪̹͎̟o͚̜̭l̢̗̱͇ as a s̠̬͖̗͢i̖̜̕ņ͉̠g͏̳̯u̶̩̭̺l̫̹͉̜̬͚͖a̡͇͕̗̼̯͈r̷̻͕ͅị̤̲̜̝ty̦̖̮̝͇̻͜ would to the world around it -
- not the burning will of passion nor pain, only a force that compels to obey. ]
no subject
It is for the best, that Julius' grasp upon the Director's hand should be tight, strong enough for Sion to perceive and to be taken in by: the force of gravity itself, Julius' touch, a reminder that he is not alone—
(I am glad that you are here with me.)
—in more ways than one.
Though he has been connected to another by way of neural link, there is perhaps no way to describe the acute sensation of cellular structures (organic) delving into his system (inorganic) via the pathways carved into him through years of genetic alteration. Involuntarily, his body bends, convulsing in a way which is immediate and violent (a reaction to the unexpected interface) his wrist twisting in an endeavor to break Julius' hold; to shake that which has already made its way inside of him, threatening to seize the last vestiges of his control. ]
Julius---... [ It is no small undertaking, resisting the great tide of the other man's will, and though Sion's eyes have gone wide with alarm, his voice is quiet, childish, and so very lost: ] ...I don't understand.
[ Why...? ]
no subject
When Julius speaks, his voice is strangely level, his eyes now gold instead of the grey that was before. ]
We can close it together.
[ And because they are linked now, he can send his thoughts through the neural link, much faster than speech: ]
This is the power of my blood and not my curse. Please let me in, I know I can do something.
no subject
Could they, really?
Linked by both hand and neural amalgamation, could they stay that which the Director feared most? Always, Sion has lived by running from his potential for violence and for destruction, and now that it has manifest before him, all he is able to do is--...
Cede control to someone dear and someone trusted, held in the highest regard. Because they do not have a choice, do they? It is either they overcome this together or not at all, and Sion cannot abide by the latter; by a future where those who struggled and strived to show others the light of hope would only be consumed by the brightness which they so readily offered in the end.
Though it is only seconds which pass, each and every ebb of Sion's will to keep something foreign out is something tangible, allowing for Julius' neural pressure to pervade the synthetic circuitry of his body; the tunable parts of the Director which are rational and controllable, logical elements embedded into his system in order to provide a failsafe for his engineers, those in the military who had once sought to create a biological machine.
If Julius were able to amplify Sion's own neural action impulses—still steady and still strong, the signals are the Director's tools to create and to shape beautiful works of art from the compound of programmable matter—by supplementing them with his own--...
Perhaps then, the matter could be contained and controlled. ]
I trust you. [ In this moment, this thought is what Sion wishes to convey most, a whole-hearted return of the words which Julius had confessed to him in the moments after he'd woken, proving that all curses might be broken. ] I am sorry I cannot do more than this.
[ But there is more, isn't there? The curl of Sions' fingers about Julius' hand, full of faith for all that he is afraid, holding to it like a lifeline. ]
no subject
[ That's all the thought he spares before delving into their link again, unleashing the full force of his will to amplify Sion's commands. As one tide would meld into the next, their combined force ripples across the surface of the projected cage, stilling it all at once and freezing the flames into solid, harmless light.
In that moment, Sion might also see something, a stray thought or perhaps a memory - a vision that he may have seen before, in a dream.
And then it's over, the light walls shimmering delicately in the dying light, the cries of the bandits quietened. With luck they would not be dead.
As soon as he's able to establish that, Julius starts retracting the link. Partly out of habit of not taking up other people's space, and partly since he's not sure if it would be appropriate now that the danger has passed.
But they'll still be holding hands. ]
no subject
Ju--
[ —the communication begins as a thought in the moment when the walls of light glimmer away into nothing, their nanoscale building blocks returned to the body which housed them, and all is strangely quiet. Slowly, the glowing markers of the Director's synthetic biology fade from his fingertips, receding until the skin bears no trace of them, and the absence of Julius' presence is as startling as its appearance: it is a loss which makes Sion shudder, exhaling the last syllables of the other man's name aloud: ]
--lius.
[ They've done it, it's stopped, and while there is relief in knowing that the threat of further destruction has been stayed, there's still the matter of— ]
Your arm. [ Though unsteady with sudden exhaustion and dazed from a connection there and gone, Sion reaches out with his free hand to gingerly touch Julius' sleeve, checking for the wound. ] You were injured. Shot.
[ Brow furrowing, Sion's lips press into a thin line, his golden eyes turning toward the bandits, two members of their group severely burned, but alive. ]
I--... need to call for a medical unit at once.
no subject
Not yet.
[ Julius turns his attention to the people around them, all in various states of unconsciousness. A two-second focus tells him that the burned ones are not dead, though whether they would stay like this is another issue altogether. ]
I can treat it myself. I... would not wish strangers to look upon me at this moment. [ The wound barely bled, and it's just a matter of getting the iron slug out and using his newfound power to repair the tissue. ] A medical unit would be able to treat them in time for their trial.
[ Or lack thereof, if their consensus is to make the verdict here. But it's not something Julius would want to do; there are more things on his mind than he can leave aside right now. ]
no subject
Sion being taken off the field, at the very least. Even it is here where he might be able to help, interacting with the civilians he seeks to protect. ]
Treat it yourself? [ Appraising the wound with a discerning glance, an analytical eye, Sion only pales when his fingertips come away from Julius' sleeve stained with red—though the bullet-wound is not bleeding much, it still is enough cause for worry. For the self-reprimand that Sion should have been quicker to guard Julius' back. ] Let me know how I might assist; if you need to be shielded away from others, it is within my ability to cloak you.
[ With technology which, thankfully, had little to do with the programmable matter which had only just quieted, staying still and silent within the container of the Director's body. ]
There is also the option of retreating back to the manor. My family has no love for me, but they will grant us sanctuary if it means pleasing the Company.
[ … ]
I do not know how to thank you. You saved me from something which I have never before faced, and am shaken by still.
no subject
Now, that was a wise path that Sion had helped him take. ]
You need not thank me, Sion: I could only have helped you because of the power that you helped me to control.
[ So, they're even. Julius puts a hand on Sion's shoulder as if to accentuate that fact. ]
I can fix myself if we are able to return to my own ship. But what are we to do with these... people?
[ There's the slightest bit of pause before he says the word people. ]
no subject
[ Though he is loathe to part from Julius—to break the link of their hands and to fall back from the assurance that is the other man's touch upon his shoulder—the Director breaks away, shedding his coat and taking a blade (the only weapon upon his person, save for himself) to the uniform as he speaks: ]
As I hadn't planned for our outing to lead to arrests— [ Cutting into the hem of his coat, Sion is deft in his mission: breaking down the garment into strips of fabric, draping them over his shoulder for safekeeping one by one until there is nothing left of his uniform save for the golden emblems indicative of his rank. ] —these will do in place of restraints.
[ The fabric is industrial, after all, made to catch the blade of a knife in combat and weather the elements. ]
I will call for a support team, but by the time they arrive to provide medical aid for the injured, we will be gone in pursuit of another lead.
[ Or so Sion will say while making the call. ]
But first--... [ Gingerly, gently, he reaches for Julius' arm after he casts the remnants of his jacket aside, and has pocketed the blade he'd used to dismantle it. As always, the Director's work is artful and efficient, his hands forced steady by sheer tenacity of will as he binds Julius' arm to ensure that the bleeding will not worsen in the time it takes them to return to Fenrir. ] ...a bandage.
[ The segmented pieces of fabric, it seems, have more than one purpose. ]
I do not know what happened to me, or if it will occur again, but Julius... I am grateful to have you at my side. [ And he finishes tying the fabric, he finds it easy to give voice to the sentiment he has held within himself all this while, the words begging to be said now that he's the chance (one which might not have again): ] You balance me.
no subject
[ In this moment, it feels as if they had been working together for far longer than this - the familiarity, ease of understanding, coming to him much more quickly than anyone else in this world. He does not feel the need nor desire to run away.
The bandage is assembled and the call made, and soon enough a helicopter will drop from the skies to pick up the felons that were now bound. But when that happens, the two of them will be far away - both supporting each other as they follow well-worn paths into the bay where Fenrir was docked.
It's not a short walk, but at least the path keeps them away from being seen. Once they enter, Julius extends a branch and plugs himself into the mainframe, turning on the lights by the force of his will alone. The ship is kept in a Spartan fashion much like the previous times Sion has come, but there is one notable difference - the presence of white bark on some walls. ]
Please rest here if you need to. No one will come.
[ One bed, but Julius can sleep on the floor. He heads straight to the medical room and starts pulling things out of drawers with his good hand. ]
no subject
[ As though the Director would ever be capable of such a thing, even when wearied by the fantastic exertion of channeling programmable matter into such a great size and shape that his body thrums, yet, as though in anticipation of further combat. The sensation is worrisome, but Sion chooses to say nothing, instead following his friend into the med bay of the ship before assisting in the gathering of surgical instruments: sterile gloves and a pair of forceps, iodine and proper bandaging. ]
Sit down, my friend. [ —naturally, the chiding continues, but Sion's voice is nothing if not fond as he doles out the command, his golden eyes falling upon Julius in a look which flickers between exasperation (Julius is wounded, he should mind himself!), guilt (...all of this, it is Sion's fault...), and gratitude (though they'd saved one another in the end, he cannot help but feel indebted toward the other man). ] I am the one with steady, surgical hands, and you are not yet fully recovered from the procedure you underwent not one week ago.
[ What's more... Sion will be all right for awhile, yet. Though he is running on the fumes of adrenaline from the altercation of before, he hasn't yet crashed, and nor will he until Julius has been taken care of.
Lowering his eyes, he shifts away to wash his hands, thoroughly scrubbing them before donning a pair of medical gloves:] The way you interacted with Fenrir just now, and the way you interacted with me... this is what the oracle cells had been capable of, all along?
no subject
Julius says nothing, taking his seat and rolling up his sleeve to expose the bullet wound. The bleeding has long since stopped, so all that was left was to remove the slug of metal. ]
Not exactly. The cells acted as a conduit, due to how I am able to command them to exquisite levels of detail. What I used was an ability separate from them. I am able to impart my will into machines. It was named by her, a Power of Blood.
[ He looks into the middle distance while he speaks, unsure. ]
The cells... they have a different purpose. They are much like your programmable matter, save for the fact that they are organic in nature. Their innate nature is to consume everything that is around them, though I have been able to neutralize that with force of will.
no subject
[ The Power of Blood and cellular structures both, they are what Sion owes his present stability to. ]
Your heart is strong, Julius— [ And it grows stronger still, day by day, with each and every bond Julius makes: as much is evident in the other man's glimmer of a smile, the gesture manifest as the faintest curve of lips which sees Sion softly smiling too. ] —and as long as it remains true, the cells will remain in check, for you are a force to contend with.
[ Unlike Sion, who is subject, now, to the defects overlooked by those who had made him to be their marionette. That loss of control--... is something which he hopes never to experience again, but fears that he somehow will, for there had been no apparent cause, no impetus, for the happening, only the seemingly impossible fact that it had. ]
But even so... [ Moving in close, he studies the entrance wound, the makeshift bandage which had been discarded having done its job. ] ...I would still suggest that you take some form of analgesic before I remove the bullet.
You are human, and this will hurt. And with any luck, the bullet will not have struck an artery.
no subject
I will try my utmost best.
[ Though if he were to follow Sion's train of thought, then it would also present another possibility. Julius has been conditioned to ignore pain with the ease of one would ignore a small fly, but if there was a way to eliminate it entirely - ]
I have an idea. If I temporarily rearrange the neural connections, I could turn off the pain response, perhaps.
[ There's two seconds of pause as he becomes completely still, the branches within him shifting to break off some of the connections. They can be restored later. ]
no subject
[ Wait is the word which does not fall from the Director's lips, for Julius has gone still beneath his touch, all external interactions forsaken in favor of moving internally, the operation to rearrange a network of neural connections invisible to Sion's eye, but keenly perceived all the same. ]
...very well. [ He relents after a moment, perhaps two, if only because what's done is done, and by all accounts, Julius' endeavor has been a successful one: with the wound-area cleaned, the Director is pleased to find the bullet's trajectory hadn't curved upon meeting with its target, making for an easy extraction.
But still, Sion is cautious, his golden eyes flicking to Julius' face to watch for signs of discomfort in case the pain response hadn't been entirely severed, in the event that— ]
I never wish to be someone who causes you pain, Julius, but to go to this extent is another thing entirely.
[ Bullet? Extracted and set aside upon the medical tray which Sion had used to house his gathered supplies. Compression? Applied to the newly opened wound which most certainly is bleeding now that the metal which had previously stopped the bloodflow has been removed. ]
Are you able to maintain the compression while I prepare the sutures?
no subject
I can.
[ It's easy to take over - the traditional way of a compress now, instead of trying to close it from within. Blood vessels are a highly complicated structure, and they're not as easy to sense as pain, which Julius had been ignoring for quite a few years now. ]
I'm sorry. I only wished to try it out.
no subject
These motions, he goes through by route, having served many a time as a military medic (though under dire circumstance, it hadn't been a needle and thread which his hands had guided, but a surgical staple instead), but despite being practiced in the actions, there is something in him which is nervous. Anxious, as he'd been on the day when Julius had undergone the procedure which he himself had both suggested and designed. ]
Please, do not feel as though you need to apologize. It is only that I--...
[ Am out of sorts. Am a liability. Am the cause of your injury, by way of my own negligence. ]
...am worried. [ Shifting back to Julius' side, Sion bids his friend to remove the compress from the site of the entrance wound, golden eyes catching with grey in a silent bid for permission before beginning with the needle, his work measured, quick, and precise. ] So very much has happened over the course of a single day that I am still reeling and struggling to grasp my bearings.
[ Leithians, driven to looting in the onset of famine. Men and women burned by Sion's own hand before they'd the chance to stand trial. A malfunction which only Julius seemed to be capable of controlling. The Company's decision to pull out of Westerley.
All these things amass as a shadow at the back of the Director's mind as he closes the wound with a line of stitches, and though he seems not to realize the fact, he does not breathe until he's finished with his work, cutting the excess thread upon the soft exhale of a sigh. ]
My fear... was sudden, an irrational thought that you would not be able to restore your normal state of being after restructuring the connections.
[ Much like what had happened only an hour before, to Sion himself when confronted by the bandits. Were he on his own, at that time--...
Would anyone have survived? ]
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Far enough to tell him the care with which his companion addresses his wound, but not far enough to tell him the minute intricacies of what would happen next. But that alone is enough. ]
You told me that I would set my own path, on that day. I wouldn't allow for my curse to dictate my actions anymore.
[ He closes his eyes briefly, relinking neurons with delicacy and a will stronger than the strength of his body. ]
I have returned them to their previous conformation.
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As I said, my fear was misplaced. [ Peeling the medical gloves from his hands, he is quick to discard them, and swifter still to touch his hand to Julius' shoulder opposite of the gunshot wound, his fingers curling there in a mirror of his friend's gesture from before. ] I... should not have doubted.
[ It is only that I doubt myself. ]
But you should know that both your arm and middle back will continue to be sore. [ Ever so slightly, he huffs, introducing a small bout of levity where he deems it to be needed— ] And I've half the mind to check on your other bandages, so long as I have you upon a medical table.
Your wellbeing... it is what matters most to me.
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I would be glad to, if it sets your mind at ease.
[ It is hard to transmit the startling detail with which he can perceive himself if he so concentrates, and after what had happened it might not be that good an idea to try the mental link again. It was too sudden, too rushed - and the fact that he had to make Sion bow (even if for a good reason) never sits well with him. ]
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[ The Director is not unaware of it, Julius' capacity to self-diagnose; to keenly identify and separate the individual pathways of the body to the point of seeing them restructured in accordance to his own beautiful design. Were something truly amiss with the installation of the ports which Sion had created to manage the oracle cells—a collapse of tissue, incongruity in the healing, worse—Julius would be aware of it, but still--... Still, it helps to see skin healing over with minimal scarring, no hints of redness or rejection in sight, and Sion is as attentive in changing his friend's bandages as he had been in the closure of the gunshot wound, somehow reverent in his careful ministrations.
It is much, much too soon to attempt another link, with Sion still unnerved from two losses of control in swift succession (even if the second had been a willing ceding of himself to the other man), and perhaps as much shows in the way he refrains from using his own biometric scanner to view Julius' vitals.
But it is touch which grounds him, in the end, and after he is finished with securing the fresh change of bandages, he falls back one step, then two, gesturing to the living quarters. ]
I think it is my turn, now, to tell you to rest. [ As Sion busies himself with cleaning, discarding all salvageable materials, and sterilizing the instruments which he'd used. ] I will follow you after I've finished here.
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Perhaps beautiful in Sion's eyes, but he remains unaware (or uncaring) of it himself. ]
Let me help.
[ He may not be a certified medic, but he can at least put things away. After putting his shirt back on, of course. ]
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His body belonging to others, but in return, he'd been given power enough to help those in need of it. ]
You are as stubborn as I am, aren't you? [ Together, they restore the med bay to its former state, leaving Sion to wonder at how many times Julius had been injured over the course of his service with the Company—to boast such an array of tools is a blessing, no doubt, but at the same time equally worrisome. ] We'll rest together, then, but do not dare think of allowing me the bed while you take the floor.
[ They had laid side by side once before, hadn't they? ]
You'll sleep next to me, won't you?
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Having his suggestion forestalled, it seems only possible to relent. ]
I would.
[ It seems like the right thing to do. ]
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And once they reach the Captain's quarters, Sion makes short work of kicking off his boots before settling atop the bed, Julius' hand still very much in his own. ]
...when we wake, things will look better. Brighter. [ There is Sion's characteristic resolution, his certainty in the good of the world, but for whose benefit the expressed sentiment is for--... Well, it is for both Julius and himself: ] The people we left behind, I pray that they will recover from what was done.
After they are treated... I hope that they might be able to once again recline next to an important person, someone they care for most.
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As do I.
[ They had darkness in their hearts, but condemnation is never an easy decision to make. ]
Rest well, Sion.
[ He turns off the ship lights using a branch and closes his eyes. ]