(no subject)

[athelstanthescribe]

[OOM: Left in England to try and manage the negotiations, Athelstan discovers just how bad things can get. Warning for allusions to torture in the link and description of the resulting injuries under the cut below.]


The door opens and a stooped and shattered figure appears in it, wearing only a loincloth and a bronze ring on his left arm, almost unrecognisable at first glance. His right eye is completely swollen shut and the other close to it, his skin bloodied from head to toe, rope burns on his wrists, and rough bandages tied around his hands and feet.

He manages two shuffling steps through the door, teeth gritted with the determination not to cry out, leaving bloody marks on the floor in his path. He can't take a third, falling to his knees and then to his side, where he curls into himself.

His back is a whipped and tattered mess, and apart from his bruises, the most easily visible of his injuries at first.

Later, he can be visited here.

Comments

[onceaviking]

His back is a whipped and tattered and gloriously bloody mess.

And now there's a vampire looking at it.

At him. Athelstan. Looking at Athelstan.
Yes.

Eric steps closer.
"You shouldn't lie there," he says and his voice is soft and low.

[athelstanthescribe]

Eric will be able to feel the heat of fever coming off him, or possibly smell it.

He turns his head, trying to focus, and when he speaks his voice is still rough with the strain of screaming.

"Where...?"

[onceaviking]

"You're in Milliways, " Eric says. "And you're bleeding on the floor."
There's a tiny hitch in his voice when HD says 'bleeding'.

[athelstanthescribe]

He's too far gone with shock and fever and pain drugs to hear the little hitch, or possibly to realize who he's talking to.

His better eye closes, briefly, as the word 'Milliways' penetrates.

"Ragnar?"

(Where is Ragnar, he means, but Eric could be forgiven for misunderstanding.)

[onceaviking]

Eric sighs.

He should just walk away and let someone else deal with this shit.

Instead, he crouches down, huge and cold.

"Easy now ," he says in the tongue of his youth.

All that blood.

[athelstanthescribe]

Hearing that language seems to settle him a little, and he begins to uncurl.

"My hands...", he says in the same language.

[onceaviking]

Eric hushes him and looks around.

If he moves him, he'll scream. And he just fucking knows that he'll somehow be blamed for this.

"Athelstan," he says, and his voice is soft and silky and warm.
"Look at me. I know it's hard. But look at me."

He never does this here. Glamouring.
But this way he can get him to keep quiet till he's moved him out of the way.
And a little healing vampire blood will certainly tip the scales regarding Athelstan's debt in the right direction.


(And he won't have to feel pain).

[athelstanthescribe]

(The last is an afterthought, of course, not at all a real consideration.)

Athelstan tries again to focus, meeting Eric's eye with the one he can see by.

[onceaviking]

(Not a real consideration at all).

"Look into my eyes, Athelstan. Can you feel it? There's no pain. You don't feel anything. You're just nicely relaxed", Eric says, his voice velvety smooth and gentle as he slides a hand under Athelstan, getting ready to lift him up.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan doesn't understand, but he doesn't look away and the glamour takes the intended effect.

He doesn't scream as Eric touches him.

[onceaviking]

Eric can feel things shift inside Athelstan as he lifts him up. Hear it too.
And the scent of blood is maddening.

He heads outside, at vampire speed, and doesn't stop till he's reached a secluded spot among the trees.

He puts Athelstan down - gently - and licks at bloody bruises on his face. He can't help it.
It's just too tempting.

[athelstanthescribe]

In his haze of all the things combined, he perceives it as a cold rag wiping over his face, and murmurs something that might be gratitude.

[onceaviking]

Eric moans softly and then he lets his fangs down.

The sound is loud in the night silence.

Threatening.


He bends down - and bites his own hand, letting the blood drip down on Athelstan's lips.

[soldier_blade]

Sonya was only just leaving for her door when he came inside. For a moment, she doesn't recognize him, but the smell of blood hits her hard and the memories coming to her and suddenly it's so hard to breath.

He's a curled mess on the floor and for a moment Sonya can't bring herself to move, her body feeling like lead. Only when she catches the sight of his face does she spring to action.

"Athelstan!.." What the fuck happened to him?

She's on the ground by him less than a second later, trying to see the extent of his injuries without touching him too much. Abrasions seem the majority of it, but they're still serious enough looking, and she catches bandages around his hands.

"Athelstan.." She calls out again, forcing her voice to stay gentle, but firm. Sometimes the worst injuries are what can't be seen. "Athelstan..it's Sonya..talk to me."

That was important. There was no way to gauge how much blood he lost and she needed to keep him from falling into shock before getting him to the clinic.

[athelstanthescribe]

His hands and feet are the worst, but someone has already taken a rough kind of care of them.

His skin is hot to the touch and his eyes are vague with fever and opium as he tries to focus on her.

"Sonya..." he whispers after a moment.

[soldier_blade]

Last thing she wants is for those lashes to become infected, but she has to carry him to the clinic somehow. She finally sets her hands on his shoulders, trying to find some area that's not cut, letting out a slight his when its revealed just how hot his skin is. The look in his eyes doesn't help his cause either.

"Yeah, I'm here.." The smile on her face is for his benefit only. He's able to respond, and for his sake she'll take what signs she can get. "Come on and gimmie your arm, buddy. I can take you to the clinic, we can get something for the fever-it's going to hurt though."

She'll have to carry him there, because he clearly can't walk on his own. Ca

[athelstanthescribe]

He had intended to walk all the way back to the Viking camp, but nobody said this plan was realistic.

He probably hears and understands about one word in three of that, but he reaches for her.

[soldier_blade]

Carefully, she drapes his arm over her shoulder, setting an arm around his back. His feet looked bad, and this way if he couldn't support himself at all she could easily resort to carrying him in her arms.

He seemed so out of it. Sonya prayed that whatever was making him foggy also numbed the worst of the pain.

She'll worry about getting him some clothes later. "Okay, count of three. One.."

Sonya didn't wait till the count before she slowly stood up, trying to bear most of his weight onto herself. He was heavy enough for being small as he was, but his weight was also clumsy, making it even more hard.

[athelstanthescribe]

There's still plenty of pain, but he grits his teeth again as she lifts him, instinctively trying to roll his feet so only his toes and the upper part touch the floor.

"Two?"

[soldier_blade]

"You would've tensed up on three, making the pain worse." A dirty, but practical trick an army medic once pulled on her. Sometimes bracing for pain only made it worse.

She looked down at his feet, forcing herself to breath when she saw blood through the bandages. Death threats and all of that could wait; she needed to get him to the clinic. "Let me know if it's too much. I can carry you just fine." Not really, but it'd be easier to support him in both arms than only supporting him.

Slowly, she walks towards the clinic, keeping an eye on his condition.

[athelstanthescribe]

He's in agony, with only the edge taken off by the opium, but he's doing his damndest to hide it.

"It's... all right..." he lies hazily.

[soldier_blade]

She's been around wounded men too long: she can tell he's lying, he probably knows she knows he's lying (or not), but the important thing his to keep him talking. So long as he's alert, they're not completely in the dangerzone yet.

"Almost there." Was the clinic normally this far away, or was it just her desperation to get there fast as possible.

[athelstanthescribe]

He probably did pass out briefly when he hit the floor, but he's got enough iron in him to keep him breathing.

"Ragnar. Have you seen...?"

[soldier_blade]

"No.." She forces herself to breath, to ignore the smell of blood. "Haven't seen him."

In her head are all sorts of memories she's tried to forget, and she forces them down as she makes her way across the room. Habit and her own sense of dignity force them to take the long way: much as she'd love to cut corners and walk through the center of the room, she doesn't want to attract that much attention to them. She's compelled to keep by the wall. "I was with his brother. His family and most of the villagers are safe..they're hiding at the old farm."

[athelstanthescribe]

"The..." He's thinking of a different farm, and he frowns as he supports his weight on the wall. "But it was burned."