[CLOSED] like waking up from a fantasy

[sunderings]

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.

Comments

[tousei]

[ Julius stays silent through out the process, as still as stone or perhaps a tree; being as compliant a patient as he had been the previous time. While Sion works, he pays close attention to the injured area - equal parts out of curiosity and also a desire to see how far his perception can go.

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.

[sunderings]

Mn. [ —the Director's is a soft sound of acknowledgement, the surgical needle in his hand set aside as he takes to cleaning blood from skin (gently), applying a thin layer of ointment to the site of the sutures (with a ginger touch), and bandaging the wound with a fresh roll of gauze before he is satisfied that the injury will heal properly and heal well. ]

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.

[tousei]

[ Well, given that they are alone: ]

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. ]

[sunderings]

Aa, it would. Perhaps more than you know.

[ 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.

[tousei]

[ Julius had been so much of a hermit that the only person who had seen him without his shirt was, for a very long time, the woman who considered himself his mother; because she was the one cutting him open. Years of experimentation had left no mark on his body only by virtue of the extensive regeneration that it granted him. He had a lean figure much like a panther or a wolf, muscles visible to the extent of an Enforcer would have that concealed much more power than the average man.

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. ]

[sunderings]

[ Where words of protest would have liked to fall from his lips, Sion stifles them down, choosing, instead, to huff a light-of-heart sigh as he steps aside, making room for Julius to assist him—but only after the other man takes care to clothe himself. Truth be told, were his friend to remain in a state of (half!) undress, Sion would have thought nothing of it: by virtue of growing up in military barracks, he is accustomed to dressing and undressing before others, the remainder of his modesty taken from him after years of undergoing experimentation which left--...

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?

[tousei]

[ It is in part due to having being injured, and also in part due to maintenance of his own modified body. Much of the tools are familiar to him, knives of different sizes and different functions, first wielded by Rachel and then taught to him for preservation of his own life. But that's mostly behind him now.

Having his suggestion forestalled, it seems only possible to relent. ]

I would.

[ It seems like the right thing to do. ]

[sunderings]

I am glad. [ —the words fall softly as Sion leads the way out of the med bay, beckoning his friend along for the journey first with the flash of a smile, and then by reestablishing the link of their hands, his fingers lacing easily with Julius' own. And if the Director should begin to tug (gently and lightly!) the other man along, it is in equal parts necessity and in play, for...! As soon as Sion lays down, atop the mattress, he is certain that all the tension in his body will bleed out of him, and there will only be exhaustion left; the use of his programmable matter a taxing thing even on the best of days.

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.

[tousei]

[ Julius' living quarters are Spartan like the rest of his ship, with barely any hint of customization save for the white bark that has threaded itself all around Fenrir's interior. He's compliant and quiet with Sion's insistence, dropping himself on his mattress while being mindful of not knocking into the other. ]

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. ]