makesthings: (trying not to laugh)
Sameth, Wallmaker and Prince of the Old Kingdom ([personal profile] makesthings) wrote in [community profile] milliways_bar2014-01-13 07:31 pm
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Sameth has finally finished Gaeta's leg, it took him longer than he wanted but it had to be perfect. The look on Gaeta's face when he tried it on convinced him that it had to be better than Lirael's hand.

That meant a number of long nights and some rescheduling of other projects but its how he wants it to be. The metal has muscles that seem to shift in the light, its light of the Charter Marks to soothe and protect, all the joints move smoothly and hopefully it will feel like an extension not an addition.

When he comes into the Bar, he's smiling as he carries the leg wrapped in an old Somersby sweater. At the counter he writes out a note before ordering a mulled wine and going to sit by the fire. There haven't been any major events at court so he's in his comfortable and dirty linen shirt.


I finished your prosthesis and I'll be in the Bar all tonight. If I don't see you, I'll leave it with Bar.
Sameth
mr_gaeta: (pensive (and not in duty blues for once))

[personal profile] mr_gaeta 2014-01-14 04:04 am (UTC)(link)
Some time later, Gaeta limps downstairs. His intention had been to get a couple ingredients, haul them back upstairs, and try to cook a nice meal for Louis before he arrived for the evening. Anything -- no matter how small -- to help ease the strain he's dealing with on Galactica.

Anything to keep Gaeta anchored to the idea that he would, in fact, arrive.

That whole plan goes out the window when Bar serves him the note. His head snaps up; instantly, he begins searching the room for Sameth.
mr_gaeta: (hm? (civvies))

[personal profile] mr_gaeta 2014-01-14 04:14 am (UTC)(link)
Were it any other time, for any other reason, Gaeta would let him be.

This time, as he pockets the letter, he sweeps up his crutches and hobbles over to the fireplace. Once there, he leans against the chair back and touches a light hand to Sameth's shoulder.

"Sameth?"
mr_gaeta: (uh.)

[personal profile] mr_gaeta 2014-01-14 04:23 am (UTC)(link)
Gaeta jolts back in surprise, almost in tandem with Sameth. It takes him an extra second to regain his equilibrium.

"Hi," he says. "Sorry to wake you. I just, ah..."

His gaze goes to the bundle on the table. (He can feel his heartbeat speeding up.)

"Got your note."
mr_gaeta: (watery smile)

[personal profile] mr_gaeta 2014-01-15 03:41 am (UTC)(link)
"Of course," he says, faintly, but it's clear he's only saying it by rote. His grip tightens on the handles of his crutches to steady himself a little better.

It's no longer sketches on a page or a half-finished form. It looks...it looks real. Nobody would ever mistake it for an actual leg, which is good, but the way the metal flows together, carving out shapes that mirror his remaining leg perfectly -- he can imagine it flowing just as easily into skin, his upper leg, himself.

With great care, unable to take his eyes off the prosthesis, Gaeta lowers himself onto the arm of the chair. Very soft: "It looks good."
mr_gaeta: (the steadfast tin soldier)

[personal profile] mr_gaeta 2014-01-15 04:11 am (UTC)(link)
Gaeta unhooks his crutches from both arms to set them aside. His hands still feel trembly, even though they aren't visibly shaking; he clasps them together as he waits for Sameth to finish setting up the leg.

Once he has, Gaeta exhales, and lifts the stump of his right leg to ease it into the prosthesis.
mr_gaeta: (here I dreamt I was an architect)

[personal profile] mr_gaeta 2014-01-15 04:20 am (UTC)(link)
So far, so good. Gaeta fumbles for one of the crutches to give himself some extra support, but doesn't stand up just yet.

He's spent nine months without a prosthesis. Testing the incomplete leg was one thing, but to feel the pressure against his stump -- no worse than the pressure of his other foot against the ground -- and know this will be permanent? It's strange. Not bad, but...certainly strange.

With another breath, he hauls himself upright to balance on both feet. The prosthesis shifts with him effortlessly, and he has to catch his breath for a wholly different reason.
mr_gaeta: (here I dreamt I was an architect)

[personal profile] mr_gaeta 2014-01-15 04:29 am (UTC)(link)
Unable to form the words, Gaeta just nods. He steps forward with his left leg. Shifts the crutch a few inches.

Then, with visible effort, he moves his right leg to take another step, and all the air rushes out of him in a breathless laugh.
mr_gaeta: (here I dreamt I was an architect)

[personal profile] mr_gaeta 2014-01-23 03:33 am (UTC)(link)
"It feels fine," he whispers, awed -- and still laughing a little.

Gaeta takes another step. Already, his right leg is trembling with the effort, but he ignores it for now. He's walking.

He's walking.
mr_gaeta: (watery smile)

[personal profile] mr_gaeta 2014-01-23 03:53 am (UTC)(link)
"No. Nothing."

Okay, yeah, he's going to have to shift more of his weight to his left leg now. Apparently, muscle atrophy can still happen even if you're dead.

"This is -- " Words fail him again; his eyes are suspiciously bright when he looks back at Sameth. "Gods. Thank you."
mr_gaeta: (the steadfast tin soldier)

[personal profile] mr_gaeta 2014-01-23 04:01 am (UTC)(link)
"Is there anything I owe you?" He shifts on his crutch, his legs (plural, gods), so he can face Sameth in full. "Can I do anything?"

It's not like a fruit basket would be enough, but there has to be something.
mr_gaeta: (hm? (civvies))

[personal profile] mr_gaeta 2014-01-23 04:14 am (UTC)(link)
"I don't have a lot, but, ah -- "

What does he have? 'Fair' would encompass something much greater than Gaeta's current resources -- and, as usual, he's zeroed in on the first half of Sameth's statement while mostly ignoring the second.

"Is there any volunteer work I can do for you? Or...some way I could help out?"

It's how he paid for the medicine he got from the infirmary, once upon a time.
mr_gaeta: (here I dreamt I was an architect)

[personal profile] mr_gaeta 2014-01-25 03:55 am (UTC)(link)
"If you think of anything, please let me know," says Gaeta. He's trying to lend a little more formality to the request, but it's difficult with the way he keeps beaming. "Really. Anything."