[ Though what about Lenalee? Did she leave? But it would make sense. Standing around awkwardly while he and Collette chatted... He wouldn't stick around, either.
He inhales deeply, as if preparing for some great effort, and sits up! Attempts to sit up. Makes it part way up but then gives up and flops back down onto the cot. His head swims from the attempt, only making the pounding that's already up there all the more worse.
The hand he'd put on her head leaves, shakily going press against his temple instead. ]
( Now she moves closer to his head, mouth open in canine laughter. She gives a slow lick to the hand at his temple. )
< Definitely not. Sleep off what you can, okay? I'll be here. Gotta hunt down something more comfortablel to be on, but hey, that's easier here than elsewhere! >
( Hunt down a chair in reality, just to borrow. If she's here more than four hours, she'll need to be able to make it to the bathrooms -- and not rely just on morphs. She's still not recovered enough to exhaust energy as freely as she did before June. (She hates that, but she accepts it. Pushing now means not having the ability to push later, at a time she might need it more.) )
< Do you want water? They don't have you on a saline drip... I can get you water after I demorph! >
( They've got the worst tag-team game of "who's in the hospital/clinic and who is watching over the one in the hospital/clinic, but it doesn't even occur to her to just leave. Nor to get her own chair -- she'd just need to have it returned again later, since she wasn't planning to roll out with him once he could walk. )
[ But she will anyway, because she's Collette and she'll metaphorically hover about like this. He wonders if it'll ever get tiring, how they keep switching off places like this. Who's injured, who's keeping watch, over and over again.
He sighs and eventually drags his hand down from his hand, though mostly to wipe the dog drool off on the sheet. ]
( She ignores the first, knowing he had to know this wasn't a matter of having to or not having to. What else was she going to do? She wants to stay, so she stays. Like she had before, and like she will again. It wouldn't be a lie to say she'd do so for all her friends... but it might be a lie to say that doing so for Caesar at this point wasn't different, in some way.
She's gone for ten minutes or so, demorphing and fanangling another chair. There's a promise to help with inventory later if she can stay, and that she'll keep out of the way, yes ma'am, no sir, as you will. Collette returns with a bottle of water, chatting as she comes. )
Ended up finding water bottles, we brought out a whole bunch for everyone. Did you want a straw? I grabbed one,, sometimes it's easier to suck than figure out swallowing. You awake, or did the meds finally send you on to sleepsville?
( All equally conversational. )
I can grab another few pillows to help you sit up if you like, or I can help. You're probably going to start feeling even floppier! What would you prefer to do?
( She asks at last, stopped by the level of his chest and shoulders. She doesn't reach out to him. Collette plans to tell him before she actually does that, though she wants to -- her fingers twitch where they are by her wheels. )
[ He's still awake! Although ten minutes of laying there in silence and generally not trying to think too much has left him starting to feel the effects of the meds. The edge on the pain has blurred, not as sharp, not as invasive.
Only that also makes answering her questions all the more difficult.
It takes some time to decide.
A straw? ]
What? No. If I can sit up, it'll be fine. [ If he can. ] Are there even any other pillows to grab?
There's a blanket to fold in half and pillows on the other cots, plus a few spare ones for stuff like this. Trust me, we're basically in pillow central!
( Be they made up on the spot or otherwise. She speaks with more certainty than she feels, though a glance around provides her with enough evidence to know they can prop him up if need be. It's just... going to be awkward. Getting him up just enough to make swallowing comfortable sounds safer, and more doable, to Collette. )
I'm reaching for your arm right now. Want me to help you try to sit up? I can get another pillow behind you so you're not totally flat, it helps with the whole swallowing thing, I promise!
( Duh as the question might be, she respond automatically with the side she's on -- left, right, whichever. )
Try to tuck your chin in!
( She adds helpfully, making sure her wheel's locks are on before her other hand slides along the same arm she has a hold on. )
I figure if I get a grip on the shoulder opposite to where I am now, I can get you up enough and hold you there to get things settled.
( It'd be far, far easier if she weren't her, and weren't as she is, but that only stops Collette when it is detrimental to others, and not even then. (Fortunately, unfortunately.)
Her hand is at his opposite shoulder, sliding around the back of it. )
If you can hold on, go ahead. If you can't, no big deal!
( On a count down from three -- 3... 2... 1...! -- she makes the effort to pull him up toward a sitting position. (Thank goodness her hips and thighs end up keeping her anchored against her chair. Thank goodness the cot is sturdier than she realized.) )
But it isn't as difficult as it could have been. Once she starts pulling, he helps by pushing himself upwards with first his elbows, then his hands, pressed firmly against the cot. Going up too far, too fast, was the problem before.
He can stay propped up with some effort for her to settle pillows and such behind him, if she needs to. ]
( She asks him to, giving a squeeze of his arm and shoulder before pulling her hands back to herself. Unlocking her wheels, she executes a nice, tight roll and curve around backward to the nearest cot, nabbing up two pillows there in addition to the blanket already in her lap.
She's back with a little expressive whirl and movement of her hands, grin bright -- dimming slightly when she remembers he can't see. )
Two pillows coming up! Does your head feel wobbly on your neck? I'm by your left again.
( She says, chatting as she pulls the first pillow up and moves it behind him. The second follows suit, Collette chattering on about what she's doing while she's doing it. She's not sure what to do -- be default, she falls into a play by play, similar to the ones in her own head some mornings when she's motivating herself to get through a routine and on to something different for the mental exercise.
A final pat on the pillow before she pulls her hand out from behind him leads to a cheerful: )
I'd say go ahead and flop now, but that might be killer for your head. Here, I'm reaching for your right shoulder again, and my other hand's going to be behind your neck. Good thing you're not broad shouldered! I could never reach across like this if you were!
Wobbly? [ What a ridiculous word. He's just going to pretend that it doesn't describe what anything feels like right now. ] No, not really.
[ He feels the pillows being deposited behind him, the quiet sound of weight and cloth dropping on more cloth, the presence of something new near his back. He isn't propped up far enough to be properly sitting, so the second one brushes past him as it's left there.
Ha. Not broad shouldered? And here he thought that's what girls wanted in a guy! Well, assumes. It seems to be the stereotype.
But he doesn't comment on it, instead concentrating on lowering himself back against the pillows. More with her help this time, less giving up and flopping about. Now the pillows are what prop him up, rather than his own arms, and that comes as an immense relief. ]
( Wibbly, wobbly, bobbly, boo, just accept that's gonna be you! )
No problem!
( It's easy enough to say that, knowing she can school her voice to look cheerier than the expression on her face. It's a small blessing, that he can't see that concern there. )
Let me get this waterbottle open... One sec!
( She pulls herself away, taking the waterbottle into her lap and twisting the top off. It's not a new bottle -- these get reused -- but the water's decent, and room temperature, which wasn't refreshing as much as ice water might seem, but was kinder on the stomach.
She pulls out her borrowed straw, plopping it down into the neck of the waterbottle. )
Lift your right hand for me? I'm going to get the waterbottle set up for you. I went with the straw, by the way. Spilling when you're starting to go under is the worst. You feel so silly! At least I usually do.
( Continuing to converse as she reaches for his hand, if he offers it lke she asks, and even if he doesn't. She plans to help get his hand(s) wrapped around the bottle, and then prompt him to open his mouth to touch the straw against his lower lip. Hunting those things down when you could see them was stupidly difficult enough. )
[ But he doesn't turn it down. He just wanted her to know! That's what he said! Yeah. He raises his right hand, assuming that he's holding it out towards her. If she places the bottle against his palm, he'll wrap his fingers around it tight enough to keep a good grip.
There's a few irritating misses with the straw, however, and he ends up prodding himself in the face with it once or twice before managing.
( She sounds affable enough, and to be honest, that he's complaining actually makes her feel better -- like there's a limitus test where if Caesar isn't complaining, she needs to start exponentially worrying about what's going on.
He gets the water handled, and she has to laugh, at the complaint on taste -- it's a short bout of laughter tinged with a measure of relief. And fair or not, associative or not, she ends up asking something about five months displaced and unrelated to water at all -- )
Did you really have lap dogs at the camp you were in when you were dealing with the fighting Hugo was doing, in your last war?
( This is totally why you're dating her, she bets. Right after the laundry, it's for exactly these sorts of things! )
Of course. The castle decided to use them as guard dogs, but why I'll never understand. They're tiny and not very useful! But considering the captain of the guards there was a little girl, I guess that might explain it...
( She's smiling enough at a mental image of a bunch of chihuahua or pomeranian sized dogs defending anything, but tacking that little tidbit on makes it even more puzzling. )
How'd that happen? I could get the dogs, if what you need is something to bark a lot when people are coming in, instead of needing something that can hamstring or tear out throats, but the captain of the guards was a little girl?
( Looking for something for her hands to do, she tucks the blanket in close to his hip, then lower by his thigh. )
After all, what's that they say? Wonderful things come in small packages!
( Pats out the blanket on top of his thigh with a satisfied smile, brushing it straight downward. Something as small as a cockroach lisening in is enough to turn tides in some instances. It's the action and what yu do, not the size, that matters! )
Well, little as in a few years younger than I am, but how that happened, I have no clue. If the castle lord decided to let her go on as that, it's not entirely my business. Of course, he was hardly any older than her!
[ He can complain about Budehuc all day, don't get him staaarted. ]
( But if he's complaining, he's distracted until he drifts off! And she can listen to the dulcet tones of his... uh. Complaints.
One of many reasons why Collette never expects a sweet anything that's not along the lines of Caesar's humor out of his mouth toward her ever: expectations like these.)
So what, eleven? Kids get thrown into all kinds of things... How old was the castle lord? Did he just inherit suddenly or something?
( A little more tucking in and fussing with smoothing the blanket out because she can't sit still yet. )
Fourteen, maybe? Though now that I think of it, that's about the same as Hugo, but he at least had an idea of how to fight. As for Thomas, fifteen, I think. He was handed the place in hopes he'd never bother his big trader council father again or something, sent out to the middle of nowhere like that.
[ He's not sure why he's adding in all the details like that. Normally he wouldn't! But he's woozy and blind and who cares if someone knows about Thomas anyway. He'll give the water another try before eventually just grimacing and holding it away from him.
Which is to say she should probably take it away before he drops it (not that he would mean to). ]
( They were all kids, too. Something about that hits her hard, twisting up her stomach as she reaches out to gently pry the waterbottle out of his hand. Bred for war or not, tied up in a family history that married you to the worst aspects of humanity, she can't find it right in her head. Not in a modern context, not even getting slow glimpses of the world he and Nash (and Elza and Clive) came from.
He wants to be so good at something horrible. Competition? Family rivalry? His own innate desire to do what he can to help through minimizing losses? Collette doesn't voice any of her questions, making a noise of affirmation in the back of her throat, reaching out with her hand to brush his hair to the sides of his face once the waterbottle was in her lap. )
Then you all ended up in the middle of something big in the middle of nowhere. Figures, doesn't it?
( Hugo as a general. God, that world implies age to her. But he's as old as she is, or was, when she'd been drafted to fight, and when she'd died.
There are too many kids their age tied up in this, she realizes, with a step back mentally she doesn't normally take. Too many, and not enough already warped to expect it, like she is (she doesn't know what to make of that), or like he is (that she can better quanitfy). )
[ More a figurehead, even if one could call him the leader or general of that army. Picking up True Fire had stuck that kid into the role, whether he'd wanted it or not. As for why Caesar had been there, just happened to be there, when everything fell into conflict...
Well...
He gives a shrug and sinks further down against the pillows, eyes opening just enough to squint out into a world that's nothing but dark to him. They don't focus on anything, lacking anything to focus on at all. ]
( What was he chasing after? She wonders, staring at her fingers at his temple. She doesn't want to look at this eyes. It's as if part of her's scared to see the green glossed over with that pale color some people had when they went blind, due to disease. It's stupid. She knows it's nothing like that.
It sucks, wanting to fix things and not being equipped to do anything but the stupidest things. )
[ One part of it was tagging along on Apple's little quest to study the history of the Grasslands, but as if he'd offer to help study things without an ulterior motive. ]
I was looking for that guy. Always causing trouble. App didn't know, not really, not until the ducks.
[ Yes, the ducks. Duck Village. Where he'd refused to stay at the inn there, it was too damp and moldy! What from being in a village. That was in the middle of a lake. And. Yeah. But his voice is fading and his pauses between words growing. She won't have to avoid his eyes for long, since they've slid shut again. ]
App? Figured you out when you were with the ducks?
( She doesn't expect an answer, but she asks nonetheless, listening and watching as the drugs take him into a deep sleep. She hopes he doesn't dream when he's there. He needs the rest. )
Makes me wonder when you knew Hugo from. The Academy?
( Quietly asked by now, as if that... makes it less of a question spoken. By now, she full expects him to be asleep. )
Hugo, at a school in Harmonia? But she's right. She'll get no further clarification, her expectation right on the bullseye. He's fallen asleep and, hopefully, will stay that way for some time. ]
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[ Though what about Lenalee? Did she leave? But it would make sense. Standing around awkwardly while he and Collette chatted... He wouldn't stick around, either.
He inhales deeply, as if preparing for some great effort, and sits up! Attempts to sit up. Makes it part way up but then gives up and flops back down onto the cot. His head swims from the attempt, only making the pounding that's already up there all the more worse.
The hand he'd put on her head leaves, shakily going press against his temple instead. ]
Ugh... okay... maybe not.
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< Definitely not. Sleep off what you can, okay? I'll be here. Gotta hunt down something more comfortablel to be on, but hey, that's easier here than elsewhere! >
( Hunt down a chair in reality, just to borrow. If she's here more than four hours, she'll need to be able to make it to the bathrooms -- and not rely just on morphs. She's still not recovered enough to exhaust energy as freely as she did before June. (She hates that, but she accepts it. Pushing now means not having the ability to push later, at a time she might need it more.) )
< Do you want water? They don't have you on a saline drip... I can get you water after I demorph! >
( They've got the worst tag-team game of "who's in the hospital/clinic and who is watching over the one in the hospital/clinic, but it doesn't even occur to her to just leave. Nor to get her own chair -- she'd just need to have it returned again later, since she wasn't planning to roll out with him once he could walk. )
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[ But she will anyway, because she's Collette and she'll metaphorically hover about like this. He wonders if it'll ever get tiring, how they keep switching off places like this. Who's injured, who's keeping watch, over and over again.
He sighs and eventually drags his hand down from his hand, though mostly to wipe the dog drool off on the sheet. ]
Although water would be nice...
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( She ignores the first, knowing he had to know this wasn't a matter of having to or not having to. What else was she going to do? She wants to stay, so she stays. Like she had before, and like she will again. It wouldn't be a lie to say she'd do so for all her friends... but it might be a lie to say that doing so for Caesar at this point wasn't different, in some way.
She's gone for ten minutes or so, demorphing and fanangling another chair. There's a promise to help with inventory later if she can stay, and that she'll keep out of the way, yes ma'am, no sir, as you will. Collette returns with a bottle of water, chatting as she comes. )
Ended up finding water bottles, we brought out a whole bunch for everyone. Did you want a straw? I grabbed one,, sometimes it's easier to suck than figure out swallowing. You awake, or did the meds finally send you on to sleepsville?
( All equally conversational. )
I can grab another few pillows to help you sit up if you like, or I can help. You're probably going to start feeling even floppier! What would you prefer to do?
( She asks at last, stopped by the level of his chest and shoulders. She doesn't reach out to him. Collette plans to tell him before she actually does that, though she wants to -- her fingers twitch where they are by her wheels. )
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[ He's still awake! Although ten minutes of laying there in silence and generally not trying to think too much has left him starting to feel the effects of the meds. The edge on the pain has blurred, not as sharp, not as invasive.
Only that also makes answering her questions all the more difficult.
It takes some time to decide.
A straw? ]
What? No. If I can sit up, it'll be fine. [ If he can. ] Are there even any other pillows to grab?
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( Be they made up on the spot or otherwise. She speaks with more certainty than she feels, though a glance around provides her with enough evidence to know they can prop him up if need be. It's just... going to be awkward. Getting him up just enough to make swallowing comfortable sounds safer, and more doable, to Collette. )
I'm reaching for your arm right now. Want me to help you try to sit up? I can get another pillow behind you so you're not totally flat, it helps with the whole swallowing thing, I promise!
( He's getting the straw.
He's totally getting the straw. )
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[ The one she's close to, duh. Of course. Nevermind. ]
Sure. [ It's a general agreement, soon followed by clarification a few seconds later. ] For both. It's fine.
[ Yeah, he's going to need the straw. ]
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Try to tuck your chin in!
( She adds helpfully, making sure her wheel's locks are on before her other hand slides along the same arm she has a hold on. )
I figure if I get a grip on the shoulder opposite to where I am now, I can get you up enough and hold you there to get things settled.
( It'd be far, far easier if she weren't her, and weren't as she is, but that only stops Collette when it is detrimental to others, and not even then. (Fortunately, unfortunately.)
Her hand is at his opposite shoulder, sliding around the back of it. )
If you can hold on, go ahead. If you can't, no big deal!
( On a count down from three -- 3... 2... 1...! -- she makes the effort to pull him up toward a sitting position. (Thank goodness her hips and thighs end up keeping her anchored against her chair. Thank goodness the cot is sturdier than she realized.) )
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[ No, really, what?
But it isn't as difficult as it could have been. Once she starts pulling, he helps by pushing himself upwards with first his elbows, then his hands, pressed firmly against the cot. Going up too far, too fast, was the problem before.
He can stay propped up with some effort for her to settle pillows and such behind him, if she needs to. ]
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She's back with a little expressive whirl and movement of her hands, grin bright -- dimming slightly when she remembers he can't see. )
Two pillows coming up! Does your head feel wobbly on your neck? I'm by your left again.
( She says, chatting as she pulls the first pillow up and moves it behind him. The second follows suit, Collette chattering on about what she's doing while she's doing it. She's not sure what to do -- be default, she falls into a play by play, similar to the ones in her own head some mornings when she's motivating herself to get through a routine and on to something different for the mental exercise.
A final pat on the pillow before she pulls her hand out from behind him leads to a cheerful: )
I'd say go ahead and flop now, but that might be killer for your head. Here, I'm reaching for your right shoulder again, and my other hand's going to be behind your neck. Good thing you're not broad shouldered! I could never reach across like this if you were!
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[ He feels the pillows being deposited behind him, the quiet sound of weight and cloth dropping on more cloth, the presence of something new near his back. He isn't propped up far enough to be properly sitting, so the second one brushes past him as it's left there.
Ha. Not broad shouldered? And here he thought that's what girls wanted in a guy! Well, assumes. It seems to be the stereotype.
But he doesn't comment on it, instead concentrating on lowering himself back against the pillows. More with her help this time, less giving up and flopping about. Now the pillows are what prop him up, rather than his own arms, and that comes as an immense relief. ]
But this is much better. Thanks.
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No problem!
( It's easy enough to say that, knowing she can school her voice to look cheerier than the expression on her face. It's a small blessing, that he can't see that concern there. )
Let me get this waterbottle open... One sec!
( She pulls herself away, taking the waterbottle into her lap and twisting the top off. It's not a new bottle -- these get reused -- but the water's decent, and room temperature, which wasn't refreshing as much as ice water might seem, but was kinder on the stomach.
She pulls out her borrowed straw, plopping it down into the neck of the waterbottle. )
Lift your right hand for me? I'm going to get the waterbottle set up for you. I went with the straw, by the way. Spilling when you're starting to go under is the worst. You feel so silly! At least I usually do.
( Continuing to converse as she reaches for his hand, if he offers it lke she asks, and even if he doesn't. She plans to help get his hand(s) wrapped around the bottle, and then prompt him to open his mouth to touch the straw against his lower lip. Hunting those things down when you could see them was stupidly difficult enough. )
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[ But he doesn't turn it down. He just wanted her to know! That's what he said! Yeah. He raises his right hand, assuming that he's holding it out towards her. If she places the bottle against his palm, he'll wrap his fingers around it tight enough to keep a good grip.
There's a few irritating misses with the straw, however, and he ends up prodding himself in the face with it once or twice before managing.
And then... ]
...ugh... plastic taste.
[ Reused water bottles are the woooorst. ]
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( She sounds affable enough, and to be honest, that he's complaining actually makes her feel better -- like there's a limitus test where if Caesar isn't complaining, she needs to start exponentially worrying about what's going on.
He gets the water handled, and she has to laugh, at the complaint on taste -- it's a short bout of laughter tinged with a measure of relief. And fair or not, associative or not, she ends up asking something about five months displaced and unrelated to water at all -- )
Did you really have lap dogs at the camp you were in when you were dealing with the fighting Hugo was doing, in your last war?
( This is totally why you're dating her, she bets. Right after the laundry, it's for exactly these sorts of things! )
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[ Of all the things to ask! He frowns at that. ]
Of course. The castle decided to use them as guard dogs, but why I'll never understand. They're tiny and not very useful! But considering the captain of the guards there was a little girl, I guess that might explain it...
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( She's smiling enough at a mental image of a bunch of chihuahua or pomeranian sized dogs defending anything, but tacking that little tidbit on makes it even more puzzling. )
How'd that happen? I could get the dogs, if what you need is something to bark a lot when people are coming in, instead of needing something that can hamstring or tear out throats, but the captain of the guards was a little girl?
( Looking for something for her hands to do, she tucks the blanket in close to his hip, then lower by his thigh. )
After all, what's that they say? Wonderful things come in small packages!
( Pats out the blanket on top of his thigh with a satisfied smile, brushing it straight downward. Something as small as a cockroach lisening in is enough to turn tides in some instances. It's the action and what yu do, not the size, that matters! )
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[ He can complain about Budehuc all day, don't get him staaarted. ]
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One of many reasons why Collette never expects a sweet anything that's not along the lines of Caesar's humor out of his mouth toward her ever: expectations like these.)
So what, eleven? Kids get thrown into all kinds of things... How old was the castle lord? Did he just inherit suddenly or something?
( A little more tucking in and fussing with smoothing the blanket out because she can't sit still yet. )
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[ He's not sure why he's adding in all the details like that. Normally he wouldn't! But he's woozy and blind and who cares if someone knows about Thomas anyway. He'll give the water another try before eventually just grimacing and holding it away from him.
Which is to say she should probably take it away before he drops it (not that he would mean to). ]
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He wants to be so good at something horrible. Competition? Family rivalry? His own innate desire to do what he can to help through minimizing losses? Collette doesn't voice any of her questions, making a noise of affirmation in the back of her throat, reaching out with her hand to brush his hair to the sides of his face once the waterbottle was in her lap. )
Then you all ended up in the middle of something big in the middle of nowhere. Figures, doesn't it?
( Hugo as a general. God, that world implies age to her. But he's as old as she is, or was, when she'd been drafted to fight, and when she'd died.
There are too many kids their age tied up in this, she realizes, with a step back mentally she doesn't normally take. Too many, and not enough already warped to expect it, like she is (she doesn't know what to make of that), or like he is (that she can better quanitfy). )
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Well...
He gives a shrug and sinks further down against the pillows, eyes opening just enough to squint out into a world that's nothing but dark to him. They don't focus on anything, lacking anything to focus on at all. ]
Not really. I knew he'd be there. Just not why...
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( What was he chasing after? She wonders, staring at her fingers at his temple. She doesn't want to look at this eyes. It's as if part of her's scared to see the green glossed over with that pale color some people had when they went blind, due to disease. It's stupid. She knows it's nothing like that.
It sucks, wanting to fix things and not being equipped to do anything but the stupidest things. )
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[ One part of it was tagging along on Apple's little quest to study the history of the Grasslands, but as if he'd offer to help study things without an ulterior motive. ]
I was looking for that guy. Always causing trouble. App didn't know, not really, not until the ducks.
[ Yes, the ducks. Duck Village. Where he'd refused to stay at the inn there, it was too damp and moldy! What from being in a village. That was in the middle of a lake. And. Yeah. But his voice is fading and his pauses between words growing. She won't have to avoid his eyes for long, since they've slid shut again. ]
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( She doesn't expect an answer, but she asks nonetheless, listening and watching as the drugs take him into a deep sleep. She hopes he doesn't dream when he's there. He needs the rest. )
Makes me wonder when you knew Hugo from. The Academy?
( Quietly asked by now, as if that... makes it less of a question spoken. By now, she full expects him to be asleep. )
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Hugo, at a school in Harmonia? But she's right. She'll get no further clarification, her expectation right on the bullseye. He's fallen asleep and, hopefully, will stay that way for some time. ]
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