Earl Ciel (Astre) Phantomhive (
sweetlies) wrote in
riverviewlogs2017-10-10 10:56 pm
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OPEN | Dreamscapes
who: Ciel Phantomhive and YOU
what: Memory Sharing
when: October 9th-23rd
where: In dreamland...
warnings: Warning for child torture, murder, general murder
ONE - Ciel watching his fiancee fight on theTitan Campania
TWO - The night his parents died.
THREE - Branded
FOUR - Almost eaten
FIVE - Warm milk after bedtime
SIX - Dreams for the future
SEVEN - The Ripper's last victim
what: Memory Sharing
when: October 9th-23rd
where: In dreamland...
warnings: Warning for child torture, murder, general murder
ONE - Ciel watching his fiancee fight on the
TWO - The night his parents died.
THREE - Branded
FOUR - Almost eaten
FIVE - Warm milk after bedtime
SIX - Dreams for the future
SEVEN - The Ripper's last victim
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He can hear the glass crunching under his shoes as he comes back in, not worrying about it now that his feet are covered, settling on the bed beside Undertaker... eyes drawn to his shoulder and paling.]
Y-you... [With Sullivan and Wolfe, it had been easier to keep his calm. He hadn't been truly invested in their well-being, he'd been able to focus and take charge.]
Your shoulder...
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[As he was about to try and see what his braid had caught on - likely more glass, likely from the lighting fixture - the teen returned, and wearing shoes. He was glad of it. Only one of them would be hurt tonight and that was still one too many. He'd opened his mouth to thank the Earl, but something caught the boy's eye.]
[He gave a soft sound and tried to look over his shoulder at what it was and could make out the lines of a piece of glass sticking up from the muscle across his shoulder blade. He blinked, then grinned.]
Well, look at that. Right through the shirt, isn't it?
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Very carefully, Ciel moves Undertaker's braid so it doesn't tug at the piece of glass, getting a better look at it before handing Undertaker the towel, in case he wanted to tear a piece for his foot.]
Mm, I can't tell how deep it is though...
[He's seen, and done, worse, but this makes his stomach twist and turn. He's afraid to try to help with it at all.]
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It feels deep enough I might need to stitch it. We'll see. [As he said that, he felt a thin trail of blood began to trickle its way down his back and sighed again, more in exasperation than anything.] Milord, I do apologize for putting you through this. If I clean this up and fashion a bandage to hold the wound closed, would you be able to help me place it?
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Stitch? We don't have anything for that! [He doesn't think so anyway. And normal thread wouldn't help, it could be cleaned, it was thin.]
I can help with the bandage but if you need stitches... we should call someone.
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Ah, don't bother with it. Have you seen the rest of me? I'm hardly worried about looking pretty anymore. Besides. [He gestured to the window, in pieces on the floor and in its frame.] I've that to take care of and I'd like it not to wait.
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[He'll curl up against Undertaker with both their blankets atop them. They'd manage.
He can't help but frown though, watching Undertaker reaching for the wound. It didn't seem like it was a good enough reach. His stomach is still uneasy but he can't let Undertaker do this on his own.]
Tell me what you need. I... I'll do it.
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[That the boy was willing to help him, it touched a place in his chest. The grin softened.]
I'll need a few minutes to get everything cleaned and ready, but I'm in no hurry. Until then, milord, I'll ask you to please just relax. [That was... a terrible dream that he'd seen, that had caused him to jump up in such a rush.] I've had another dream with you in it, but we can talk about it later. [He turned, then, to face the boy evenly.] Are you okay?
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And couldn't help but eye all the scars. He'd never realized just how expansive they were. It isn't comfort enough for him though, knowing Undertaker has dealt with anything like this before.]
I'll get warm water then. [It's a good distraction but his next words give the boy pause.] I'm alright. As alright as I can be when you have glass sticking out of you.
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[Rather than fuss about it further, he moved to shift his seat and crawl back over the bed, careful not to set his feet down where more glass had fallen and give himself yet another cut. Two was enough.] No, don't trouble yourself. This will need more than that and I'm not bleeding all over the sheets. Been too much of that tonight as it is.
[Heel lifted so as not to touch the floor, he limped his way into the bathroom and tossed his ruined shirt into the trash bin there. One flick of a finger had the lights on and he reached into the cabinet under the sink for a wash cloth, then sat himself on the edge of the tub, back to the wall, and started the water running.]
[First order of business was to clean his hands and nails, then clean and bandage the cut on his foot. The glass there had been small and he wasn't worried about that one too much. Once that was in place, he set about dealing with the other. He'd left the glass in it as he worked to keep the blood from dripping too much while he dealt with the smaller of the two, but now he reached back and removed it in one slow, smooth motion. As with the first piece, he looked at this one, to determine the depth of the wound more than anything.]
Nasty little thing, aren't you?
[He hummed and set it aside, then reached back over his shoulder and gingerly set a fingernail into the wound, frowning as he did. This wasn't pleasant. It never had been. If he needed to stitch it, it would be even less so. He hoped it wouldn't have to come down to that.]
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He stands in the doorway for the moment, turning his face away when Undertaker just pulls the glass from his shoulder, reminding himself he's seen worse. He wanted his brother get stabbed, shot a man, saw Grell impale his aunt or Undertaker impale his butler. There were worse images in his memory.
And then he glances back, nearly gagging at the sight of his nail in the wound.]
Is it alright?
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It will be. Can't tell if anything splintered off inside, but I don't think it did.
[Once he's satisfied he doesn't feel anything else that shouldn't be there, he takes his hand away and huffs a sigh. To give his back a break, he washes his hands once more and cleans the red streak down his skin one more time.] Now we clean it and cover it and try to be gentle with it until it closes.
[Which it hopefully would.] Are you still doing okay, milord?
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Is there a way to tell without... sticking a finger into the wound?
[Never mind that he may have once stuck a hand into his own twins gut to retrieve their fathers ring.
He gives a nod though, moving into the bathroom and to Undertaker's side, looking at the wound and then sitting.]
Perhaps taping gauze over it would be easiest? Since we may have to change it often?
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[That his question is more or less skirted is concerning. The boy had been around blood and gore well before now, especially with the bizarre dolls and what they were and could do, but this was different.] That's the idea. Twice a day, at least for the first few days, then once a day as it starts to heal up. Infection is the only thing what concerns me. Won't be able to kill me, but it might put a damper on my job a bit if I have to walk into work wearing short sleeves. Customers might ask about the rest of me and I can't rightly lose this job.
[Had he been alive, infection might have meant something worse, but now he looked it as something as simple as a stubbed toe. He rinsed the cloth gain and soaped it up once more, then turned and looked back at the boy.] You're sure you're okay? You don't have to be here for this.
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[And waiting until morning proper shouldn't put too much risk on it. Ciel would be careful, stay in his own bed so Undertaker wouldn't be too bothered or aggravate the wound.]
I know. I'm fine. I want to help. [He's managed to distance himself, a little, mentally.] This is partly my fault, after all. You said you had a dream regarding me.
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[He should have picked it up when he got the bandages for his foot, but first things first.] It's not your fault, milord. You've no more control over what's happening than I do. I'm surprised you didn't wake in such a state yourself.
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I've actually had that dream a few times since we got here. [He says it slowly.] It's not... as frightening when you can see though.
[Ciel's back at his side in a moment, holding the ointment a little awkwardly, about to offer to put it on but-] Would it be easier for you to do this? So I don't hurt you.
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[Then he turned to mention of the dream as he spread a little of the gel on his finger and set about smoothing it over the injury.] Still awful whether or not you can see it. Seems to me that some of what you felt during that time even came over to me. I couldn't help it. When I woke, I thought the threat was still there, whatever else you'd been afraid of before your butler came in. So I did what I would've done in a spot like that.
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I was afraid of everything. Finny and Sullivan were the only people I let near me. [People closer to his age.] I suppose it makes sense though. It's how I would react probably if I'd felt that before and woke up suddenly.
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Afraid of everything? Whatever caused you such a fright? That's unusual for you.
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[So it wouldn't be a pain to keep it properly covered, and it kept him busy, physically and mentally.]
Mustard gas, we were hit with it while investigating the Werewolve's Forest. Everything burned and hurt, and when I woke up again, I couldn't see anything.
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[He lifts the bandage to his back, hesitating for only a moment when he hears the cause of the Earl's terror.] You were quite lucky, then, to have come out of that the way you did. You seem almost untouched save for the memories and temporary blindness. There was a rumor of such an agent in the underworld that was in production, but of course I stay away from those kinds of things for my own purposes. I'd heard that some of the test subjects lost patches of skin or their senses entirely.
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Sullivan treated us. I kept blacking out a lot but I remember it being cold, Sebastian forcing something down my throat. [he clears his throat.] They were actually using that village to develop something worse. They called it SuLin. It won't see the light of day.
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You're doing quite well, milord, just as you did back home. Something worse than mustard gas, that would be difficult even for me to tolerate. I'm glad you've seen fit to make sure it disappears.
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It's easier to focus on helping than one the wound or dream- memory, itself. I'd rather you be alright.
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