but i abhor the dull routine of existence (closed)

[ratiocinations]

Who: Holmes and Sprezzatura
When: 9/10 9/15 gently nudges this forward a little
Where: The school exterior
What: Trying to climb the school with rather mixed results.
Warnings: None! Will add if needed.

Comments

[velluminous]

[ they're bloodied. but so is he.

once she's up, Severine doubles over, head between her knees. just need a second. ]

[ratiocinations]

[She can have that second as Holmes hovers for a moment more, then tries to shuffle around to the correct side of her body to eventually tend to her arm. In the meantime—just for a brief moment—he spares a glance up.

No flame to be seen. Even the birds seem to have flown far, far away.]

[velluminous]

[ ugh, her stomach roils. she pants roughly, slowly, swiping her sleeve through the slickness on her face. how can it be that this all went so swiftly wrong? there has never been birds before today, before this instant— and now they have dispersed like seeds on a breeze. is that how it works?

her good hand ghosts over to feel out the shape of the joint. well. it isn't a joint anymore. her arm simply... hangs.

oh, Mammon.

that slickness and heat all over her body redoubles—she lets out a tiny moan. ]

Oh, no......

[ and with a soft gag, she spits up a little bit on the grass between her legs. ]

[ratiocinations]

Do not t-

[Touch it.

Ah.

Poor woman.

A hand on her back, lingering for a few moments, then retracting.]

[velluminous]

[ she feels horrible. she feels nauseated. she feels—like crying. she wants, suddenly and so keenly, to have her grandfather beside her, to coddle her and comfort her. to hold her close and tell her she will be fine without diminishing the hurts.

Adair's hand upon her back is like the ghost of him, for one instant only. ]

Put it back. Quickly.

[ratiocinations]

[He was never that type. His comforts are never grand displays, but small gestures that feel stilted and awkward when not viewed through precisely the right lens, or timed in a measured fashion that makes it seem calculated, all the same. But at least he is aware of his own failing, and thinks any larger attempt right now would not serve either of them well.

At least not until her arm is properly back in place.]

You must brace yourself.

[Watson, damn it all, why aren't you here with me? He needs him. Holmes' medical knowledge is just sufficient to know how to do this, perhaps because he has had to perform it on himself once, during a case gone awry. However, having a proper doctor here to perform this task would be ideal. Having that man here at all would be ideal, and he is selfish enough to wish that were the case right now.

Still, nothing for it. He must proceed.

He takes her gently by the forearm and instructs her to raise her arm, bending it at the elbow so that it would seem as though she were reaching behind her head.]

And do not jerk away.

[velluminous]

[ the heat of pain as he lifts her arm and bends the elbow. her fingers feel virtually numb, and merely twitch weakly when what she wants to do—and tries to do—is clench a fist. the small of her back feels brackish. the thick material of her trousers, stifling. that, in turn, heightens her awareness:

it hurts. it hurts. it's hurting her.

she chokes out a hiss: ] Now, Kieran!

[ratiocinations]

[The use of his “first name” doesn’t so much as startle him. It’s forgivable, given be circumstances, and his focus has already narrowed to the current task.

Reaches over to grab her opposite shoulder with one hand, while his other rests where that dislocated joint is. Positioned, now, he needs only judge the subtle angle to slot her shoulder back in — though such a turn of phrase makes it sound so simple. When in reality, it will be joint and ligament and muscle finding proper purchase again, and it will jolt and hurt exponentially more for a short while.

Nothing more to say. He already warned her.

With a calculated and sturdy grip, he pushes.]

[velluminous]

[ she had hoped to use it to spur him more urgently to act, ending the nauseating torment of her arm hanging unnaturally within its own bounds— ]

No! Agh—

[ and yet when he does act, the pain is so blindingly real that she cannot think, and no amount of steadied breathing mitigates it. it it a knife sawing into her. it is motes of fire dotting all the way up the side of her neck and down her back. the sound her body makes as he slots the joint back in—she would think he broke something in the doing.

the sound coming from her is... embarrassing. it's virtually a whimper. like a dog. long and sustained, her body jumping as though electrified beneath him, and yet she does not pull away. mostly because she has been immobilized by the pain. ]

[ratiocinations]

[The sound is not embarrassing; it is expected. He knows the pain, sharp and thorough. The only blessing is that it is brief, and to his relief, her joint slots back into place without any real resistance, and he removes his hands from her immediately, as though he is unsure whether or not she still wants him to touch her after the process is complete.]

I— Forgive me. There. [How does a doctor do this? What would they say?] How does that feel? Can you move it?

[Surely nothing so asinine as that, but they must make sure that her arm is functional now.]

[velluminous]

Mammon, do not ask me to move!

[ hoarse-voiced, she curls over herself, hugging that limb to her belly the very instant he releases it. behind closed lids, the sun is dappled and dizzying. crunch playing over in her head, and over again. ]

Please...

[ratiocinations]

[Gentler, but more persistent:] I need to know that you can move it. That I've done it correctly. Then, we must ice it and keep it immobile.

[velluminous]

[ wincingly, almost shrill: ] I can move it...

[ once he sets his teeth in something, Kieran Adair won't let it go until he's shaken it bloody. she lifts her arm, squeaking out a moan, then hugs it close again. truly, she looks a mess—and so does he. he's bleeding rivulets all down his face and neck. ]

[ratiocinations]

[Like a dog with a bone.

But good. Good. She can move it, and that provides him some relief. In that same movement, he finally allows himself to remember his own pain, which throbs hard and sore along his right side. A wince as he properly sinks back on his legs, no longer having to sit up straight to tend to her.

She needs a moment. So does he. He’ll let it pass between them.]

[velluminous]

[ Severine, too, sits in silence. her head slowly lowers and lowers until it rests between her knees akimbo. she should look after him in turn, she knows, but nothing else will settle across her mind but the dull throbbing pain and her fingers stinging as if she had buried them in nettle without knowing it.

eventually, through a great effort, she croaks, ] I saw flame.

[ratiocinations]

[On a vaguely pained exhale-]

I did, too. And the birds…

[Their chirps, sounding like warnings.]

In a great twist of irony, I believe they were trying to protect us from it.

[velluminous]

[ turns her face to look at him. how is he?... ]

By nearly killing us?

[ratiocinations]

[Face and neck scratched and scraped and mildly bleeding. That is not the main component of his pain, however. Not the reason he frowns with discomfort.]

By sparing us from whatever exists up there.

[Motion up high. His hands, too, are in rough shape.]

[velluminous]

[ Mammon. from his hands, to her hands, to the slowly-drying and dying grass tufted around the mattress. why do her eyelids feel so, so heavy?... as if all her energy has gone into producing pain.

dully: ] You favour your side.

[ratiocinations]

[He scoffs with wry humor, regretting it moments later. His ribs ache…]

It was not what I would call an entirely kind landing, despite the mattress. But I’ll be fine. You are the one in need of recovery.

[velluminous]

[ with great pains, she lays all the way back on the mattress. still she has her face screwed up in pain, all tense lines. ]

You land on me, not mattress.

[ratiocinations]

I tried… to avoid that.

[But gravity is gravity. He looks down at her, frowning thinly.]

I am sorry I could not.

[velluminous]

[ mumbles, wry, ] We are fools, Adair. Fools, but alive.

[ they're alive

ouch. ]

[ratiocinations]

[Yeah. Ow.]

We did learn something. It wasn’t a full waste of effort.

[velluminous]

[ perhaps not fully. but it feels pretty wasted. ]

Whose mattress is this? Someone else will to help you bring it back.