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{Hospital in Moscow} Waking up in Drachma (Post-Mission)
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{Hospital in Moscow} Waking up in Drachma (Post-Mission)
by Guest Sat Nov 19, 2011 7:05 am
Tears were rolling down his face, landing on the body of the warm, limp and breathing girl in his arms, wetting her clothes that were already soaked with snow. He had cried for Catalina, but for this girl, he wept. He wept because he could not accept her death. If she died, his life was done. If she died, he would have nothing left in this world to protect, except for everything. Everything was nothing to this man, nothing was her. Nothing was everything, she was nothing, she was everything to him. Six years. Six years, he had devoted himself to her protection, and as he pushed his way into the Drachman hospital, Vito could only weep as he held the woman in his arms. "Francesca... Miss... Francesca..." He had only spoken those two words as he had run, feeling the breathing woman in his arms. A man would normally be disconcerted by having such a beautiful young lady in so close to their body; but Vito's mind was not focused on the flesh right now, nor on the idea of the woman he was holding being the one he was in love with. All he could focus on was the feeling of breathing. That motion, her body moving up and down with every breath, that was all that he could, no, all that he wanted to focus on. And so, as he stood in the main hall of this hospital, staring at the cold, dirty, sterile walls of the place that smelt like death, he could only weep. No words could escape his mouth anymore, save for ragged breaths of 'Miss Francesca...' And then, his knees finally gave way, and Vito fell to the floor as doctors and nurses finally noticed him. White coats converged onto the black-clad man, and he looked up at the face of a rather kindly and homely doctor who, after changing languages three times, finally spoke out to him in Esparian, "Sir, sir, are you okay?" A cough. Vito coughed, and the pain finally caught up with him. The exhaustion, the feelings of guilt and anguish, that all finally caught his body in the act, and Vito, without speaking, fell backwards, bending over his knees and landing on the white floor without moving. His mind was calm now, and the weight on his chest was removed, voices speaking out in Drachman around him, before the words in Esparian crept up to his ears. "She'll be okay, sir. We'll make sure to take good care of her." A smile crawled across his face as the world faded away... "Good..."
"...Fran..." He didn't know how long he'd been bent double over her body, staring into the eyes of the woman that lay on that bed. The doctors had told him not to touch her, and simply to keep watch until she woke up, however Vito had almost completely broken that rule within the first thirty seconds of their leaving. His hand had been in her's the entire time, the man holding her fingers tightly and letting his tears flow, his words flying out into the air of truth. "Fran, I care so much about you..." Watching her face carefully, he watched her move slowly and carefully; yet also keeping an eye out for any possible dangers to the body of his love. And then, she finally started to stir. He wasn't sure how long he'd been waiting for. Instead, he had simply counted each breath that she'd taken. As he did that, he had felt his mood soften, and his mind calm down. He was up to seven thousand, six hundred and eighty two. "...Fran..." And now, her eyes had slowly started to open right in front of him. A kind and soft smile crossed his face, and he kept his eyes locked sorely on her's. His brown eyes were lifeless, edged with a soft red tinge from the constant crying over her. He was a wreck, to be completely honest. He may not have been much of a soldier; that was why he could cry like this. Death, the losses of those he cared about; he felt them all and with strength. And so, as she finally woke up, he could only smile as if the greatest weight in this world was lifted off of his body. She had survived. She was there. She was awake. And so, the greatest flow of tears now flowed down his face; not tears of sadness, but tears of utter joy. He sobbed, and he cried, and he looked down at Fran as if she was the last thing that he could ever feel proper love for. "Good morning, Sunshine..."
--3 HOURS LATER--
- Spoiler:
Imagine that look on his face when Fran wakes up. ^^;
"...Fran..." He didn't know how long he'd been bent double over her body, staring into the eyes of the woman that lay on that bed. The doctors had told him not to touch her, and simply to keep watch until she woke up, however Vito had almost completely broken that rule within the first thirty seconds of their leaving. His hand had been in her's the entire time, the man holding her fingers tightly and letting his tears flow, his words flying out into the air of truth. "Fran, I care so much about you..." Watching her face carefully, he watched her move slowly and carefully; yet also keeping an eye out for any possible dangers to the body of his love. And then, she finally started to stir. He wasn't sure how long he'd been waiting for. Instead, he had simply counted each breath that she'd taken. As he did that, he had felt his mood soften, and his mind calm down. He was up to seven thousand, six hundred and eighty two. "...Fran..." And now, her eyes had slowly started to open right in front of him. A kind and soft smile crossed his face, and he kept his eyes locked sorely on her's. His brown eyes were lifeless, edged with a soft red tinge from the constant crying over her. He was a wreck, to be completely honest. He may not have been much of a soldier; that was why he could cry like this. Death, the losses of those he cared about; he felt them all and with strength. And so, as she finally woke up, he could only smile as if the greatest weight in this world was lifted off of his body. She had survived. She was there. She was awake. And so, the greatest flow of tears now flowed down his face; not tears of sadness, but tears of utter joy. He sobbed, and he cried, and he looked down at Fran as if she was the last thing that he could ever feel proper love for. "Good morning, Sunshine..."
Guest- Guest
Re: {Hospital in Moscow} Waking up in Drachma (Post-Mission)
by Guest Sat Nov 19, 2011 10:26 pm
"Good morning, Sunshine..."
She felt like a little kid and it made her feel sick...or that could just be the medication. But she had this sort of...unbearable feeling as if she were being looked down on. It was weakness--something she had never cared about showing before, but was now showing openly. She blamed the tightness of bandages around her and the searing ache that punctured whatever haze filled her mind. Still, she didn't mind. Because it was Vito. She could tell by the smell alone that it was him--before she opened her eyes. Lashes ascended and dull-coated sea-colored eyes broke the surface of the mist, breathing deeply and rapturing the cool brown wreck of a man beside her bed. Her hand was cold, but something warm was wrapped around it. Fran had no reason to extract the effort to look down; she already knew it was his hand. She already knew, but...
"You stink," she said, letting a smile break out onto her cracked lips. "Can you pass me that water?" She zoned out, not even knowing what she was thinking about as a blurred arm reached for the glass on a table. He should have probably called a doctor or something, right? Ugh she didn't know...she felt too calm. It almost hurt. Her free hand grasped the water without thought and brought it to her mouth where she nearly spilled it all over herself. Her hand...was shaking. It...sucked. She swallowed almost painfully, turning to one side so he didn't watch her struggle with it. In about five minutes, she had emptied it and listlessly stared at him as if trying to collect fragments of words and bring them together. "I'm Rouenian." A blurt. There was no way to lead into what she had found out when she regained consciousness on the operating table. It had been a problem because she remembered doctors scrambling for a needle to knock her back out, but clearly... Clearly, she recalled what they had said. "That man said she was Esparian, but the blood test clearly shows that she is Rouenian." How could they find something like that out with a blood test? She hadn't realized that she had asked that out loud and the man responded just before the world faded back away. "Only Rouenians have blood type P." Shock. "I'm not an alien, Vito." Her voice was sad, making her realize how much it really did make her sad. She was from a civilization that Esparians hated and destroyed. She was meant to have died. And even now...she lived through a bullet when really her end had been so near.
Green hair splayed across the headboard, tickling her bare shoulders. She shivered and tried to draw the sheet nearer, but couldn't quite see far enough to reach it effectively. She grabbed the mattress and then her thigh and missed every time. It was cold. She felt so weak...looked so pale. "They...they can't give me a blood transfusion... do I...have to stay like this forever?" Half dead. Shed anymore of her blood and she would die... Was this...how she would have to live the rest of her life--getting dizzy from just breathing, only capable of seeing three feet in front of her, unable to look Vito in the eye for fear of seeing something else there. He had to be strong for her. Vito, be strong for me...I'm breaking like this... She bit her lip, realizing suddenly that she was shaking uncontrollably--no longer calm. The haze was breaking away and everything was becoming clear. She didn't belong with the others. They would say she did, but...they didn't understand. Why...why didn't Vasco hate her? Why did he take her in? Did he...even know what she was? She was a monster--a hated race that should disappear. It hurt. It hurt so much more than the bullet. That hurt too. She wanted to go. Now. "Vi--" Fran stumbled from the bed and collided with him, confused. She could stand either? Like this... she was useless. Useless.
Burying her face in his chest, she sobbed, feeling each movement wracking her body and causing torrents of pain to explode through her. It was worth it...to cry here. Miguel and Tristao weren't here...it was just them. Only he could know...how much it hurt her. As quick as it started, she was wiping the tears away, barely able to do just that. "I...do I have to stay like this forever?"
She felt like a little kid and it made her feel sick...or that could just be the medication. But she had this sort of...unbearable feeling as if she were being looked down on. It was weakness--something she had never cared about showing before, but was now showing openly. She blamed the tightness of bandages around her and the searing ache that punctured whatever haze filled her mind. Still, she didn't mind. Because it was Vito. She could tell by the smell alone that it was him--before she opened her eyes. Lashes ascended and dull-coated sea-colored eyes broke the surface of the mist, breathing deeply and rapturing the cool brown wreck of a man beside her bed. Her hand was cold, but something warm was wrapped around it. Fran had no reason to extract the effort to look down; she already knew it was his hand. She already knew, but...
"You stink," she said, letting a smile break out onto her cracked lips. "Can you pass me that water?" She zoned out, not even knowing what she was thinking about as a blurred arm reached for the glass on a table. He should have probably called a doctor or something, right? Ugh she didn't know...she felt too calm. It almost hurt. Her free hand grasped the water without thought and brought it to her mouth where she nearly spilled it all over herself. Her hand...was shaking. It...sucked. She swallowed almost painfully, turning to one side so he didn't watch her struggle with it. In about five minutes, she had emptied it and listlessly stared at him as if trying to collect fragments of words and bring them together. "I'm Rouenian." A blurt. There was no way to lead into what she had found out when she regained consciousness on the operating table. It had been a problem because she remembered doctors scrambling for a needle to knock her back out, but clearly... Clearly, she recalled what they had said. "That man said she was Esparian, but the blood test clearly shows that she is Rouenian." How could they find something like that out with a blood test? She hadn't realized that she had asked that out loud and the man responded just before the world faded back away. "Only Rouenians have blood type P." Shock. "I'm not an alien, Vito." Her voice was sad, making her realize how much it really did make her sad. She was from a civilization that Esparians hated and destroyed. She was meant to have died. And even now...she lived through a bullet when really her end had been so near.
Green hair splayed across the headboard, tickling her bare shoulders. She shivered and tried to draw the sheet nearer, but couldn't quite see far enough to reach it effectively. She grabbed the mattress and then her thigh and missed every time. It was cold. She felt so weak...looked so pale. "They...they can't give me a blood transfusion... do I...have to stay like this forever?" Half dead. Shed anymore of her blood and she would die... Was this...how she would have to live the rest of her life--getting dizzy from just breathing, only capable of seeing three feet in front of her, unable to look Vito in the eye for fear of seeing something else there. He had to be strong for her. Vito, be strong for me...I'm breaking like this... She bit her lip, realizing suddenly that she was shaking uncontrollably--no longer calm. The haze was breaking away and everything was becoming clear. She didn't belong with the others. They would say she did, but...they didn't understand. Why...why didn't Vasco hate her? Why did he take her in? Did he...even know what she was? She was a monster--a hated race that should disappear. It hurt. It hurt so much more than the bullet. That hurt too. She wanted to go. Now. "Vi--" Fran stumbled from the bed and collided with him, confused. She could stand either? Like this... she was useless. Useless.
Burying her face in his chest, she sobbed, feeling each movement wracking her body and causing torrents of pain to explode through her. It was worth it...to cry here. Miguel and Tristao weren't here...it was just them. Only he could know...how much it hurt her. As quick as it started, she was wiping the tears away, barely able to do just that. "I...do I have to stay like this forever?"
Guest- Guest
Re: {Hospital in Moscow} Waking up in Drachma (Post-Mission)
by Guest Sat Nov 19, 2011 11:05 pm
"You stink," He chuckled softly, leaning back and away from her body, smiling slightly and looking at her through blurred eyes. She was alright. She was awake. Everything was going to be okay... Vito could die here and be finally happy to die. Because it was Fran. And Fran was alive. And that... that was the purpose of his life. "Can you pass me that water?" He watched her arm reaching for the water, and made the first foreign movement he had made in the past three hours. His arm slowly craned out, gripping the glass with shaking fingers. It was slowly handed towards Fran, and his mouth turned itself up into something of a smile once more. Watching her drink was painful. Watching her carefully tilt that glass down her throat, and watching her very movements take all the time in the world, Vito felt his mind finally numb. Even though she was turned away from him, her muscle movements made it blindingly obvious to him. No, he wouldn't let her know that he'd seen. "I'm Rouenian." A soft gasp escaped his lips, and he looked at her face now, stupor broken by her words. She was... Rouenian? That... made no sense... "I'm not an alien, Vito." Another group of words that shattered the sense of life and love that was built around his face... "Heh." A soft laugh, a lowered gaze and darkened eyes. That laugh was hiding nothing, for once. For once, he wasn't hiding his emotions. For once, he wasn't being stoic... he was just being.
"Rouenian... I am... why am... why am I... not surprised?" Strange. It made no sense to him, yet he was not surprised. It made nothing new to him in terms of understanding, but he was still not surprised. He watched her movements carefully, watching her attempt to move the sheet up her body. Nngh... standing up slowly, Vito reached for the sheet and slid it slowly up Fran's body, lingering over the cold form with slight pangs of sadness. "They...they can't give me a blood transfusion... do I...have to stay like this forever? His heart skipped another pair of beats, and he swallowed with worry. The hand in his grip was shaking harder, and his mind slowly took it upon itself to try to calm her down. But... he didn't know how. He had to help her, he had to. He had to. She may have been Rouenian... but there was nothing wrong with that. He kept his breathing steady, and the smile on his face continued to stay soft. "Vi--" She moved. She moved and stumbled. She moved and stumbled, and Vito caught her, holding her in his arms and keeping her body close. He could feel the ragged and sharp breathing moving against his body, and the man closed his eyes. "Fran..." Sobs. She was sobbing against him, and the man swallowed painful thoughts, saddened ideas... "I...do I have to stay like this forever?"
It must hurt, to know that you're borne from a person who is hated by the very people you associate with... No, I know that it hurts. It hurts to know that your parents are people that are hated by those that you care about. My father was an Alchemist... her parents were Rouenian... I know exactly how she feels. His body shifted, and he slowly lifted her onto the hospital bed, sitting her there and kneeling in front of her, keeping steadily at eye level. "Miss Francesca..." His hand went to the sleeve of his coat, and he slid it back, showing the tattoos that sat, spreading up his arms. "We cannot change our lineage, Fran." The smile upon his face was kind, yet saddened. "Instead, we must choose to accept it. You may be Rouenian, but you will always be my Miss Francesca Allende, the alien." He moved in closer to her, staring into those sea-green orbs. They were closer now, and hot breath touched hot breath. His brown eyes slowly started to gain their shape again, their color, their luster, and finally... that small shine of happiness. Being this close to her... hearing her breathing... seeing those eyes so close... he finally realized. That girl that was before him... she was a woman. He had to see her as a woman. The woman that... "I will not leave your side." His face moved up to her's, and their lips met. One hand slid up behind her head, and the other placed itself onto her hand, intertwining itself with her fingers. This was neither the time, nor the place, but he didn't care. Instead, his mind was now focused completely in Francesca. He had to tell her that it was okay. He had to tell her that he was that which could be her guide, her guard, her love. Finally, Vito pulled away from her, keeping a small distance between their faces. "Fran... thank you for everything, for you have been my rock for six years now. I do not mind that you are Rouenian. Vasco does not mind. I do not believe that your race will change the views that your friends have of you. Instead, you are who you are, without race. If we found out that I was Amestrian, would that change your view on me? I am no different depending on race, and that is the same for you. So do not weep for your race. Be yourself. Be Francesca Allende... be that woman that I... fell in love with..."
"Rouenian... I am... why am... why am I... not surprised?" Strange. It made no sense to him, yet he was not surprised. It made nothing new to him in terms of understanding, but he was still not surprised. He watched her movements carefully, watching her attempt to move the sheet up her body. Nngh... standing up slowly, Vito reached for the sheet and slid it slowly up Fran's body, lingering over the cold form with slight pangs of sadness. "They...they can't give me a blood transfusion... do I...have to stay like this forever? His heart skipped another pair of beats, and he swallowed with worry. The hand in his grip was shaking harder, and his mind slowly took it upon itself to try to calm her down. But... he didn't know how. He had to help her, he had to. He had to. She may have been Rouenian... but there was nothing wrong with that. He kept his breathing steady, and the smile on his face continued to stay soft. "Vi--" She moved. She moved and stumbled. She moved and stumbled, and Vito caught her, holding her in his arms and keeping her body close. He could feel the ragged and sharp breathing moving against his body, and the man closed his eyes. "Fran..." Sobs. She was sobbing against him, and the man swallowed painful thoughts, saddened ideas... "I...do I have to stay like this forever?"
It must hurt, to know that you're borne from a person who is hated by the very people you associate with... No, I know that it hurts. It hurts to know that your parents are people that are hated by those that you care about. My father was an Alchemist... her parents were Rouenian... I know exactly how she feels. His body shifted, and he slowly lifted her onto the hospital bed, sitting her there and kneeling in front of her, keeping steadily at eye level. "Miss Francesca..." His hand went to the sleeve of his coat, and he slid it back, showing the tattoos that sat, spreading up his arms. "We cannot change our lineage, Fran." The smile upon his face was kind, yet saddened. "Instead, we must choose to accept it. You may be Rouenian, but you will always be my Miss Francesca Allende, the alien." He moved in closer to her, staring into those sea-green orbs. They were closer now, and hot breath touched hot breath. His brown eyes slowly started to gain their shape again, their color, their luster, and finally... that small shine of happiness. Being this close to her... hearing her breathing... seeing those eyes so close... he finally realized. That girl that was before him... she was a woman. He had to see her as a woman. The woman that... "I will not leave your side." His face moved up to her's, and their lips met. One hand slid up behind her head, and the other placed itself onto her hand, intertwining itself with her fingers. This was neither the time, nor the place, but he didn't care. Instead, his mind was now focused completely in Francesca. He had to tell her that it was okay. He had to tell her that he was that which could be her guide, her guard, her love. Finally, Vito pulled away from her, keeping a small distance between their faces. "Fran... thank you for everything, for you have been my rock for six years now. I do not mind that you are Rouenian. Vasco does not mind. I do not believe that your race will change the views that your friends have of you. Instead, you are who you are, without race. If we found out that I was Amestrian, would that change your view on me? I am no different depending on race, and that is the same for you. So do not weep for your race. Be yourself. Be Francesca Allende... be that woman that I... fell in love with..."
Guest- Guest
Re: {Hospital in Moscow} Waking up in Drachma (Post-Mission)
by Guest Sun Nov 20, 2011 12:10 am
"What I don't understand." A blur of words fell out. She was trapped there on the bed, something foreign happening to her that she knew she would never be able to fully grasp. Just what...was happening? She couldn't pull away--couldn't move--couldn't breathe. Fran was stuck. Help, she wanted to shriek to someone, but the only one here was Vito and he...was saying things that didn't make sense to her at all. His hand behind her head held it up from falling, his other grasped her hand that dug into the mattress. Slug trails lined her face, glittering in fluorescent light. She touched her lips and then stared at her hand for a good minute before her heart throbbed with knowledge of what had happened. That...that was a kiss? "Be Francesca Allende... be that woman that I... fell in love with..." Was that his wish? Who was she now then--this fading silhouette of a person sitting in a hospital bed with nothing left...? "I will not leave your side." Except him. She had...Vito. A smile swelled onto her quivering lips, the effort it took to do just that surprising her to silence. Fran didn't have a reply. The romantic inside her knew she didn't need one.
She choked on her sobs, her head dropping forwards since his head was behind her head. Into her hands it fell, the weight not being held up and listing to the side. Bending over felt like she was ripping her own skin by moving...tearing flesh from her own body and crying out her emotion in silent screams, mind torn in half. Run away...she just wanted to run away through a corn field and get lost--never to be found...together with him. No worries. But she...blinking was exhausting. She closed her eyes, blindly reaching to him where he now sat on her bed. Letting her weight hit him, they fell together onto the pillows, intertwined in the tangle of white sheets she didn't even have to see to know were white. Her arm was up his shirt, smoothing across the warm skin of his chest. His shirt was up, herself against him--against the warmth, nestled into the crook of his neck. Stay like this... she wanted to stay like this forever. The thin fabric of her hospital gown felt thinner. Nothing underneath but bandages and pain.
"mmnVito I..meant..." She was fading. She felt it, thought growing dim and musty, matching the wallpaper in her mind and melding into a haze. "I can't...get blood so...I'll be like this forever?" She sniffed, her other arm trying to crawl closer to her other that was lodged between them. It stopped half way with a hitched exhale. "I...can't........breathe..."
She choked on her sobs, her head dropping forwards since his head was behind her head. Into her hands it fell, the weight not being held up and listing to the side. Bending over felt like she was ripping her own skin by moving...tearing flesh from her own body and crying out her emotion in silent screams, mind torn in half. Run away...she just wanted to run away through a corn field and get lost--never to be found...together with him. No worries. But she...blinking was exhausting. She closed her eyes, blindly reaching to him where he now sat on her bed. Letting her weight hit him, they fell together onto the pillows, intertwined in the tangle of white sheets she didn't even have to see to know were white. Her arm was up his shirt, smoothing across the warm skin of his chest. His shirt was up, herself against him--against the warmth, nestled into the crook of his neck. Stay like this... she wanted to stay like this forever. The thin fabric of her hospital gown felt thinner. Nothing underneath but bandages and pain.
"mmnVito I..meant..." She was fading. She felt it, thought growing dim and musty, matching the wallpaper in her mind and melding into a haze. "I can't...get blood so...I'll be like this forever?" She sniffed, her other arm trying to crawl closer to her other that was lodged between them. It stopped half way with a hitched exhale. "I...can't........breathe..."
Guest- Guest
Re: {Hospital in Moscow} Waking up in Drachma (Post-Mission)
by Guest Sun Nov 20, 2011 4:15 pm
The young boy was sheepishly staring through the little window at the two. Lucian was nudging his side as he was attempting to spy as well. His breath was low as his cat eyes stare blankly at Vito and Fran. Tristao was breathing heavy, fogging up the window pane. While the two continue to blab about love, he was too amused with drawing circle on the window.
One circle after another he drew with the help of his breath, Lucian slowly slumps down and takes a cat nap on the tiled floor. What was happening in the room was nothing interesting to him, at least. He knew it was wrong to parade inside the room right away, so he thought he'd give them some space.
For him, he never had to be at Frans side. Sure, she was his best friend, but he knew their friendship extended well beyond just physical touch and see. He was happy for her, and Vito. It pleasant seeing something so happy, right after losing Cat.
However, his ears perk up when he hears Frans call. "I...can't........breathe..." Immediately, Tristao fumbles over his lion and burst into hospital room.
"FRAN!" He yells as he stands at the doorway in shock.
One circle after another he drew with the help of his breath, Lucian slowly slumps down and takes a cat nap on the tiled floor. What was happening in the room was nothing interesting to him, at least. He knew it was wrong to parade inside the room right away, so he thought he'd give them some space.
For him, he never had to be at Frans side. Sure, she was his best friend, but he knew their friendship extended well beyond just physical touch and see. He was happy for her, and Vito. It pleasant seeing something so happy, right after losing Cat.
However, his ears perk up when he hears Frans call. "I...can't........breathe..." Immediately, Tristao fumbles over his lion and burst into hospital room.
"FRAN!" He yells as he stands at the doorway in shock.
Guest- Guest
Re: {Hospital in Moscow} Waking up in Drachma (Post-Mission)
by Guest Sun Nov 20, 2011 7:47 pm
A strange reaction, that was for sure. The man's lips pursed softly, and he pulled back a little further from her, watching her through a pair of careful eyes. He had a solemn smile on his face, and a hand trailed through the lime green locks, his voice speaking softly into her ear, whispers that only he could understand, ones that he wouldn't reveal to anyone outside of this room... He felt arms surround his body, and a weight hit him. Falling over onto the bed, Vito made a soft grunt, curling up and pushing himself in closer to her body with a soft smile on his face. They were close; much closer than Vito had ever felt with this girl before, though this was the distance he'd always wished for. The haggard face was soft and gentle, and the man felt her arm up against his chest, fingers running across his flesh. A warmth was nestled against his body, and he shifted himself a little, attempting to make it more comfortable for her. "mmnVito I..meant..." Sounds came from the softness against his body, and he blinked, looking down slightly. "I can't...get blood so...I'll be like this forever?" Ah, so he'd misunderstood her original statement. Heh, his mind had processed it in a way that had turned into romance, but was that so wrong? "Silly girl... Blood comes back. Give it a couple of months, and you'll be fine, trust m--"
"I...can't........breathe..." He gasped slightly, and was about to say something, anything in order to comfort her, when the sound of someone bursting through the door caused Vito to look over his shoulder. "FRAN!" Ah, it was Tristao. Chuckling softly, Vito leaned in and kissed Fran on the forehead, before moving slightly out of her grip and sitting upwards on the bed, looking over at the white-haired man and shaking his head softly. "Calm yourself, boy. There is no need to shout in a hospital." He tilted his head to the side and chuckled softly, before laying back down on the bed and looking up at the ceiling. "Do not trouble yourself right now, Tristao. I know that you have some of your own wounds to heal, do you not?" He closed his eyes and let Francesca move in closer to his body, chuckling softly and yawning a little. "It will be okay, both of you. We will be back in sunny Esparia sooner than you think... Back under that sky that shows no signs of rain nor cloud. Back to those streets with a defining and comforting warmth. ANd back to that place that we all," His eyes darted to Fran, now open, "call home..." Let's not tell Vasco that we kissed his daughter, hmmmm?
"I...can't........breathe..." He gasped slightly, and was about to say something, anything in order to comfort her, when the sound of someone bursting through the door caused Vito to look over his shoulder. "FRAN!" Ah, it was Tristao. Chuckling softly, Vito leaned in and kissed Fran on the forehead, before moving slightly out of her grip and sitting upwards on the bed, looking over at the white-haired man and shaking his head softly. "Calm yourself, boy. There is no need to shout in a hospital." He tilted his head to the side and chuckled softly, before laying back down on the bed and looking up at the ceiling. "Do not trouble yourself right now, Tristao. I know that you have some of your own wounds to heal, do you not?" He closed his eyes and let Francesca move in closer to his body, chuckling softly and yawning a little. "It will be okay, both of you. We will be back in sunny Esparia sooner than you think... Back under that sky that shows no signs of rain nor cloud. Back to those streets with a defining and comforting warmth. ANd back to that place that we all," His eyes darted to Fran, now open, "call home..." Let's not tell Vasco that we kissed his daughter, hmmmm?
Guest- Guest
Re: {Hospital in Moscow} Waking up in Drachma (Post-Mission)
by Guest Tue Nov 22, 2011 5:30 pm
"Keh"
It was cold. The air was bitter and even in the daytime the winds chilled one's bones to the core. Despite all the clothes he wore, the gloves, the wool pants, the old fur coat, he could still feel it, the cold touch of Catalina's flesh and her stiff weight in his arms. After RIOTE had entered the fray, Miguel was able to retrieve her body from the blood stained snow in which it had come to rest. Despite her death at the hands of an alchemist, her body torn by ice, with death's chilling embrace made all the more harsh and undeserving, she seemed to be at peace, when he had gazed upon her pale, frozen form.
Miguel slowly trudged onward to the hospital building just ahead, dragging his boots through the snow, Catalina cradled carefully in his arms, as if she were only sleeping. Not far behind him, another Esparian woman, a former enemy he had only met that night, trailed behind. He didn't pay much mind to her, nor did he observe her actions too closely. If she ran away, then she ran away, that was no problem of his. If she turned on him, well, that was unlikely. She had nothing to gain for killing him, especially not in a city still heavily occupied with RIOTE's forces. To his immediate side was the large black form of Shade. He had waited faithfully by Catalina's side, even during the battle, amid the gunfire and explosions, he never left her. Though he was less hostile towards Miguel than the other cats, Shade still never fully trusted Miguel from the moment they met. He never let him near, not even once. Miguel always suspected that all three of the cats could read his past by looking in his eyes. That's why they were wary of him, they could not trust a man with blood stained hands. Yet, perhaps in mutual understanding, the night-coloured feline had allowed him close this time around, and had allowed him to carry his master's body all this time, and even chose to stick closely by his side. They neared the hospital now, close to the building that was likely filled with the injured, the dying, and the dead. Victims of war. Francesca, Vito, and Tristao should be there, he prayed that they were there, that they were safe and well. "Pantera, Shade, please, wait outside here and stay hidden. I can't bring you inside. Lo ciento." He wasn't sure if the cat would understand what he said, but after a moment's hesitation the great best, with a look of belying intelligence, Shade slunk off into the shadows of a nearby alleyway adjacent to the hospital.
Miguel approached the glass twin doors at the Hospital's entrance and pushed gently with his foot to gain entry. Almost immediately, the woman at the service desk noticed him and called for assistance. Several employees nearby rushed to his side, the nearest made a motion toward the body in his arms. "No, don't bother" Miguel muttered wearily. His tired features gave the false illusion of apathy as he probed his memories for any Drachman that could help him get the message across to the doctors and aids. "She's dead. Mertvyi". One of them men paused and stared at the corpse for a moment longer, then nodded solemnly to Miguel and motioned for the other hospital aids to leave the Esparian man be. "Wait...." Miguel called out to him, "I need......" he paused and tried to search for the correct words in Drachman again. "Krovat'.....Tela Krovat", said he, fumbling over the Drachman words with his Esparian accent. The doctor responded with another understanding nod and then briskly walked off down a corridor, hopefully to return with the stretcher Miguel asked for.
With that taken care of, Miguel finally diverted his attention to the Esparian woman who accompanied him here. With a weary sigh, he looked at her, then glanced off to the side, pretending to intently study other things while he thought of just what he should say. "Ete.......try to keep quiet and not say anything to upset anyone. Let me explain things."
Before he could mention anything else to his unlikely companion, the doctor from before returned with a wheeled stretcher with a large white sheet. He rolled the stretcher in front of Miguel and removed the sheet. Catalina's body was laid down gently on the stretcher. With care and respect for the empty vassal, Miguel brushed her dark hair off of her restful face and carefully folder her arms over her chest. He looked carefully over her one last time, making sure nothing was out of place, and then with the doctor's assistance, the large white sheet was draped over her.
"Excuse me, sir. May we help you in any other way?" said a tired looking man in white scrubs, whom Miguel hadn't noticed before, though it would seem the other doctor brought him along, on the grounds that this second doctor spoke Esparian. He had a soft smile and a kind expression, but deep within his dim eyes, he looked even more tired and exhausted than Miguel. He must have seen hundreds of patients come through since Amestris was driven out of the city, thought Miguel. An exchange of unspoken sympathy, and then Miguel spoke, thankfully, in Esparian, no longer limited by his terrible Drachman. "Yes, please, have any other Esparians checked into this hospital earlier? Three of them. A young woman with lime coloured hair and a very serious looking man with dark hair, and a silver haired one?"
"Ah yes" aswered the man with mild amusement. "I thought you might have been related to those three. Yes, right this way. My associate here will take your...friend to a holding room for now." He gestured towards the stretcher that held Catalina and the doctor from before, standing over her. Miguel nodded in understanding, and then beckoned to the Esparian woman that accompanied him to follow. The three of them walked past the counter and nearly exited the lobby before the doctor stopped in place. The woman at the counter shot him a glance and said something in Drachman that Miguel couldn't make out. The doctor turned to Miguel, looked over him, rubbed his head nervously before finally coming out with whatever it was that concerned him and the clerk at the counter. "Ermm, sir, I'm afraid you will have to leave your weapons at the counter" said he, as he glanced at the holstered pistols and the sheathed sabre at Miguel's sides. "Oh yes. Sorry, I almost forgot." the red haired Esparian replied as he removed his belt which held his pistols, along with his sabre and the rifle on his back and handed them to the doctor. The doctor smiled, somewhat uncomfortably it seemed, from holding all the weapons, before placing them underneath the lobby'd main desk. "Thank you, now just follow me"
His first hint as to which room held the kids was a great lion resting outside a door in the hallway. The doctor seemed very uneasy when they drew close to Lucien, and at a point, even stopped, hesitating on whether or not it was safe to get any closer. Miguel gave him a slight smile along with a chuckle, then patted him once on the shoulder. "Its fine, I'll show myself into the room. I'll try to tell my friend to do something about the lion. I understand that he's probably made it a bit hard to traverse the hallway." "Yes, thank you very much"
He then turned to the Esparian woman behind him. "Stand outside the room for now. If you want to come in, I'll let you know if you can"
Miguel stepped past Lucien, who seemed to be complacent with his presence for this occasion, and stepped into the room. He sighed a sigh of relief as he glanced at everyone in the room with a bittersweet smile. They were all alive. Francesca, Vito, and Tristao. They were were all alive. He lowered his gaze to the floor and rand his fingers through red-brown hair. "Niños...... I'm sorry I took so long. I got caught up with some things. I have Catalina, she's....she's in the other room." His words felt heavy, it made the air in the room feel tenser. Catalina's death was something he managed to accept from the moment it happened. But to talk of such things with these children, without showing remorse or shedding any tears....it made him feel a pang of guilt. Furthermore, he felt guilty for not helping Francesca to the hospital with them, even if he had stayed behind with the intention of distracting the enemy. It was difficult to face them, after failing to be there for them when they needed him most. Catalina and Francesca both. If he had been there earlier, he might have been able to protect them. He wasn't looking for forgiveness, hell, he didn't really know what he was looking for, other than to apologize and see that they were well.
Miguel approached Fran's bed, trying his best to smile, trying not to look like the embittered and sorry old man he was, though his somber golden eyes would inevitably betray him. He carefully took a seat at the end of her bed, which creaked a bit as the weight of the springs shifted to his side. He folded his hands together and stared at the polished tiled floor, which reflected the glare of the overhead florescent lighting. "Mija" said he, in a low voice, his eyes still diverted to the floor, and his clasped hands. He wanted to face her, to look her in the eyes, but it was difficult. Her friend was just killed, and she was injured. Where was he during all this? After swearing to protect her when she was a small child? He couldn't face her, yet he felt foolish for not doing so. "How are you feeling?". Such an empty statement. He was concerned, yes, but he knew all to well that if she was confined to this hospital bed, then the answer was not likely to be assuring. But what else could he say?
It was cold. The air was bitter and even in the daytime the winds chilled one's bones to the core. Despite all the clothes he wore, the gloves, the wool pants, the old fur coat, he could still feel it, the cold touch of Catalina's flesh and her stiff weight in his arms. After RIOTE had entered the fray, Miguel was able to retrieve her body from the blood stained snow in which it had come to rest. Despite her death at the hands of an alchemist, her body torn by ice, with death's chilling embrace made all the more harsh and undeserving, she seemed to be at peace, when he had gazed upon her pale, frozen form.
Miguel slowly trudged onward to the hospital building just ahead, dragging his boots through the snow, Catalina cradled carefully in his arms, as if she were only sleeping. Not far behind him, another Esparian woman, a former enemy he had only met that night, trailed behind. He didn't pay much mind to her, nor did he observe her actions too closely. If she ran away, then she ran away, that was no problem of his. If she turned on him, well, that was unlikely. She had nothing to gain for killing him, especially not in a city still heavily occupied with RIOTE's forces. To his immediate side was the large black form of Shade. He had waited faithfully by Catalina's side, even during the battle, amid the gunfire and explosions, he never left her. Though he was less hostile towards Miguel than the other cats, Shade still never fully trusted Miguel from the moment they met. He never let him near, not even once. Miguel always suspected that all three of the cats could read his past by looking in his eyes. That's why they were wary of him, they could not trust a man with blood stained hands. Yet, perhaps in mutual understanding, the night-coloured feline had allowed him close this time around, and had allowed him to carry his master's body all this time, and even chose to stick closely by his side. They neared the hospital now, close to the building that was likely filled with the injured, the dying, and the dead. Victims of war. Francesca, Vito, and Tristao should be there, he prayed that they were there, that they were safe and well. "Pantera, Shade, please, wait outside here and stay hidden. I can't bring you inside. Lo ciento." He wasn't sure if the cat would understand what he said, but after a moment's hesitation the great best, with a look of belying intelligence, Shade slunk off into the shadows of a nearby alleyway adjacent to the hospital.
Miguel approached the glass twin doors at the Hospital's entrance and pushed gently with his foot to gain entry. Almost immediately, the woman at the service desk noticed him and called for assistance. Several employees nearby rushed to his side, the nearest made a motion toward the body in his arms. "No, don't bother" Miguel muttered wearily. His tired features gave the false illusion of apathy as he probed his memories for any Drachman that could help him get the message across to the doctors and aids. "She's dead. Mertvyi". One of them men paused and stared at the corpse for a moment longer, then nodded solemnly to Miguel and motioned for the other hospital aids to leave the Esparian man be. "Wait...." Miguel called out to him, "I need......" he paused and tried to search for the correct words in Drachman again. "Krovat'.....Tela Krovat", said he, fumbling over the Drachman words with his Esparian accent. The doctor responded with another understanding nod and then briskly walked off down a corridor, hopefully to return with the stretcher Miguel asked for.
With that taken care of, Miguel finally diverted his attention to the Esparian woman who accompanied him here. With a weary sigh, he looked at her, then glanced off to the side, pretending to intently study other things while he thought of just what he should say. "Ete.......try to keep quiet and not say anything to upset anyone. Let me explain things."
Before he could mention anything else to his unlikely companion, the doctor from before returned with a wheeled stretcher with a large white sheet. He rolled the stretcher in front of Miguel and removed the sheet. Catalina's body was laid down gently on the stretcher. With care and respect for the empty vassal, Miguel brushed her dark hair off of her restful face and carefully folder her arms over her chest. He looked carefully over her one last time, making sure nothing was out of place, and then with the doctor's assistance, the large white sheet was draped over her.
"Excuse me, sir. May we help you in any other way?" said a tired looking man in white scrubs, whom Miguel hadn't noticed before, though it would seem the other doctor brought him along, on the grounds that this second doctor spoke Esparian. He had a soft smile and a kind expression, but deep within his dim eyes, he looked even more tired and exhausted than Miguel. He must have seen hundreds of patients come through since Amestris was driven out of the city, thought Miguel. An exchange of unspoken sympathy, and then Miguel spoke, thankfully, in Esparian, no longer limited by his terrible Drachman. "Yes, please, have any other Esparians checked into this hospital earlier? Three of them. A young woman with lime coloured hair and a very serious looking man with dark hair, and a silver haired one?"
"Ah yes" aswered the man with mild amusement. "I thought you might have been related to those three. Yes, right this way. My associate here will take your...friend to a holding room for now." He gestured towards the stretcher that held Catalina and the doctor from before, standing over her. Miguel nodded in understanding, and then beckoned to the Esparian woman that accompanied him to follow. The three of them walked past the counter and nearly exited the lobby before the doctor stopped in place. The woman at the counter shot him a glance and said something in Drachman that Miguel couldn't make out. The doctor turned to Miguel, looked over him, rubbed his head nervously before finally coming out with whatever it was that concerned him and the clerk at the counter. "Ermm, sir, I'm afraid you will have to leave your weapons at the counter" said he, as he glanced at the holstered pistols and the sheathed sabre at Miguel's sides. "Oh yes. Sorry, I almost forgot." the red haired Esparian replied as he removed his belt which held his pistols, along with his sabre and the rifle on his back and handed them to the doctor. The doctor smiled, somewhat uncomfortably it seemed, from holding all the weapons, before placing them underneath the lobby'd main desk. "Thank you, now just follow me"
His first hint as to which room held the kids was a great lion resting outside a door in the hallway. The doctor seemed very uneasy when they drew close to Lucien, and at a point, even stopped, hesitating on whether or not it was safe to get any closer. Miguel gave him a slight smile along with a chuckle, then patted him once on the shoulder. "Its fine, I'll show myself into the room. I'll try to tell my friend to do something about the lion. I understand that he's probably made it a bit hard to traverse the hallway." "Yes, thank you very much"
He then turned to the Esparian woman behind him. "Stand outside the room for now. If you want to come in, I'll let you know if you can"
Miguel stepped past Lucien, who seemed to be complacent with his presence for this occasion, and stepped into the room. He sighed a sigh of relief as he glanced at everyone in the room with a bittersweet smile. They were all alive. Francesca, Vito, and Tristao. They were were all alive. He lowered his gaze to the floor and rand his fingers through red-brown hair. "Niños...... I'm sorry I took so long. I got caught up with some things. I have Catalina, she's....she's in the other room." His words felt heavy, it made the air in the room feel tenser. Catalina's death was something he managed to accept from the moment it happened. But to talk of such things with these children, without showing remorse or shedding any tears....it made him feel a pang of guilt. Furthermore, he felt guilty for not helping Francesca to the hospital with them, even if he had stayed behind with the intention of distracting the enemy. It was difficult to face them, after failing to be there for them when they needed him most. Catalina and Francesca both. If he had been there earlier, he might have been able to protect them. He wasn't looking for forgiveness, hell, he didn't really know what he was looking for, other than to apologize and see that they were well.
Miguel approached Fran's bed, trying his best to smile, trying not to look like the embittered and sorry old man he was, though his somber golden eyes would inevitably betray him. He carefully took a seat at the end of her bed, which creaked a bit as the weight of the springs shifted to his side. He folded his hands together and stared at the polished tiled floor, which reflected the glare of the overhead florescent lighting. "Mija" said he, in a low voice, his eyes still diverted to the floor, and his clasped hands. He wanted to face her, to look her in the eyes, but it was difficult. Her friend was just killed, and she was injured. Where was he during all this? After swearing to protect her when she was a small child? He couldn't face her, yet he felt foolish for not doing so. "How are you feeling?". Such an empty statement. He was concerned, yes, but he knew all to well that if she was confined to this hospital bed, then the answer was not likely to be assuring. But what else could he say?
Guest- Guest
Re: {Hospital in Moscow} Waking up in Drachma (Post-Mission)
by Guest Wed Nov 30, 2011 10:39 am
The man did exactly what he said: he let him do the talking. She was much too paranoid to skirt around conversation on her own anyway. She had to hide her fan and Amestrian pistol, for the simple fear of being discovered behind enemy lines. That, and the punishment for impersonating an enemy soldier tended to be “death.” Not exactly reassuring on her part. She kept looking around the lobby, noticing the strange stares people were giving her. It was either because she was obviously an Esparian in a Drachman uniform, or the simple fact she was dripping some blood onto the floor.
It was probably the former.
As Miguel was walking off, she was tapped on the shoulder. Resisting the urge to grab the hand, she notices one of the staff members motioning to her gun. She hesitated for a moment, looking down at the gun and then back at Miguel, but she quickly removed the magazine and ejected the round in the chamber, handing them to the man before trailing after Miguel.
”Stand outside the room for now. If you want to come in, I'll let you know if you can.”
”I’d rather wait in the room, if it’s safe,” she says, deciding to take a seat outside the room for the time being, at least. Next to a fucking lion… I mean, seriously, what the fuck? A lion? A panther? These people just roamed around with wild beasts like nothing bad would happen?
Deciding to be productive (and get away from the lion giving her the evil eye), she wandered over to a nearby medical supply cart. Sorting through the drawers, she ignored the glares of nearby staff as she pulled out some bandages, cotton balls and anesthetic. Sitting back in the chair, she takes off the heavy coat, and rips off the sleeve of the undershirt. Applying some anesthetic to a cotton ball, she sighed. This was going to hurt.
”Son of a bitch!” escaped her lips, causing her to grit her teeth instead. It was just a flesh wound, but so much could happen. Infection from the wound itself, the clothing she was wearing, the hospital environment she was currently in…
Soon enough, she applied the bandage, and waiting outside the room, fidgeting. Not out of fear or paranoia, but habit. And severe dislike of being seated next to a lion STILL giving her the evil eye.
It was probably the former.
As Miguel was walking off, she was tapped on the shoulder. Resisting the urge to grab the hand, she notices one of the staff members motioning to her gun. She hesitated for a moment, looking down at the gun and then back at Miguel, but she quickly removed the magazine and ejected the round in the chamber, handing them to the man before trailing after Miguel.
”Stand outside the room for now. If you want to come in, I'll let you know if you can.”
”I’d rather wait in the room, if it’s safe,” she says, deciding to take a seat outside the room for the time being, at least. Next to a fucking lion… I mean, seriously, what the fuck? A lion? A panther? These people just roamed around with wild beasts like nothing bad would happen?
Deciding to be productive (and get away from the lion giving her the evil eye), she wandered over to a nearby medical supply cart. Sorting through the drawers, she ignored the glares of nearby staff as she pulled out some bandages, cotton balls and anesthetic. Sitting back in the chair, she takes off the heavy coat, and rips off the sleeve of the undershirt. Applying some anesthetic to a cotton ball, she sighed. This was going to hurt.
”Son of a bitch!” escaped her lips, causing her to grit her teeth instead. It was just a flesh wound, but so much could happen. Infection from the wound itself, the clothing she was wearing, the hospital environment she was currently in…
Soon enough, she applied the bandage, and waiting outside the room, fidgeting. Not out of fear or paranoia, but habit. And severe dislike of being seated next to a lion STILL giving her the evil eye.
Guest- Guest
Re: {Hospital in Moscow} Waking up in Drachma (Post-Mission)
by Guest Mon Dec 05, 2011 8:22 pm
"FRAN!" Her heart skipped a beat and she nearly fell off the bed as she dove backwards as far away from Vito as she could without looking as if she were avoiding him. A wry smile filled her face and she tried to force it to reach her eyes as she waved at Tristao. So he was here too? She felt loved...loved and not alone, but at the same time... Deep inside her, she felt...lonely. She...she was Rouenian; she wasn't Esparian. Did...did Papa know? She felt her heart sink and tears fill her eyes. Looking happy right now was work. She couldn't do it...much less try anymore. Because if he didn't know, she would have to tell him. To tell him, would be...like betrayal. But he had taken her to Rouen so much when she was little... Why... Why was... UGH. She took a shuddering breath, feeling the weakness in her body so strongly. "Blood comes back. Give it a couple of months, and you'll be fine." WAIT. PAUSE EVERYTHING. She flipped her head around, ignoring how much the colors in the room blended together. A...couple of months? So...she didn't have to be like this forever, but... still... how often would they visit her here... Fran was suffering already and they were in the room.
"Months...? I have to stay here for...months?" It was a murmured--a breath of a reply that held no volume under the raspy tones of Vito's baritone as he said: "call home..." Home? Was Esparia still her home? She shot Tristao a pained look, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Did he understand...how she felt? Vito didn't get it. He didn't get it!! She wanted to throw that pillow at his head. IDIOT. "I...I don't want t--"
"Mija, how are you feeling?"
Fran's gaze drifted over to the man that just walked in. Oh. It was Miguel. Another...Esparian. Her heart cracked a little and she looked away. "I...have to stay here for months...alone?"
"Months...? I have to stay here for...months?" It was a murmured--a breath of a reply that held no volume under the raspy tones of Vito's baritone as he said: "call home..." Home? Was Esparia still her home? She shot Tristao a pained look, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Did he understand...how she felt? Vito didn't get it. He didn't get it!! She wanted to throw that pillow at his head. IDIOT. "I...I don't want t--"
"Mija, how are you feeling?"
Fran's gaze drifted over to the man that just walked in. Oh. It was Miguel. Another...Esparian. Her heart cracked a little and she looked away. "I...have to stay here for months...alone?"
Guest- Guest
Re: {Hospital in Moscow} Waking up in Drachma (Post-Mission)
by Guest Mon Dec 05, 2011 10:47 pm
"Niños...... I'm sorry I took so long. I got caught up with some things. I have Catalina, she's....she's in the other room. A grizzled voice spoke out from the entrance of the room, and Vito's eyes slowly raised themselves to meet those of Miguel. He blinked for a second, and shook his head, about to speak directly to Miguel. That man didn't need to feel sorry for anything; there was nothing to be sorry about. Life had occurred at its usual cruel pace, and for that Vito, Fran, Tristao, Miguel and even Catalina had been destroyed by such vices. He chuckled dryly, and shook his head with a small smile. He watched the man approach, and watched him lean down to Miss Francesca who pulled away from Vito at the same time. A slight mewl escaped his lips; as if he had no intention of Fran leaving his side, however he didn't resist anyway. No, there was no need to. "Months...? I have to stay here for...months?" Those whispered words had finally registered in his mind. No, he was certain that she wouldn't have to. In fact, he was pretty sure that she would be up and on her feet in a week or two, if that. He nodded slowly, before hearing Miss Francesca's voice once more.
"I...have to stay here for months...alone?" Nn? He turned towards Fran, and shook his head with a soft smile crossing his lips. "No, no. Fran, you'll return home." He made sure to emphasize that word for affect, and then made sure that his gaze was totally locked into her eyes, his own sharpening with slight annoyance. She was resisting that feeling of coming home, wasn't she? She didn't actually feel at home with them, simply because she had just found out that she was different. So what? Why didn't she see that she'd been raised as one of them? He shook his head and stared into her eyes, attempting to stare into everything that Francesca Allende was. He smiled softly, and leaned in closer; he would ignore everything in that room at that moment, and simply focus his attention on her. "Miss Francesca. Listen to the words that I have to say." He smiled as his lips moved, making words that would be only for her ears. "I can imagine how you're feeling. You're one of the few surviving Rouenians in this world. There are no others of your kind, so you're feeling alone, aren't you? Well, you're not alone, silly girl." He chuckled. "In fact, you have the closest family you'd ever want, and they're all in this room. You have no need to feel sad about being alone, because you never will..." He leaned into her again, and planted a soft kiss onto her forehead, holding himself there with closed eyes--one hand was held behind her head and keeping her in close. It may have been rude to only focus on her; Vito only wanted to calm her down, though. That was what he wanted, so the others could wait. She was... right in front of him, so that was all he needed to know.
"I...have to stay here for months...alone?" Nn? He turned towards Fran, and shook his head with a soft smile crossing his lips. "No, no. Fran, you'll return home." He made sure to emphasize that word for affect, and then made sure that his gaze was totally locked into her eyes, his own sharpening with slight annoyance. She was resisting that feeling of coming home, wasn't she? She didn't actually feel at home with them, simply because she had just found out that she was different. So what? Why didn't she see that she'd been raised as one of them? He shook his head and stared into her eyes, attempting to stare into everything that Francesca Allende was. He smiled softly, and leaned in closer; he would ignore everything in that room at that moment, and simply focus his attention on her. "Miss Francesca. Listen to the words that I have to say." He smiled as his lips moved, making words that would be only for her ears. "I can imagine how you're feeling. You're one of the few surviving Rouenians in this world. There are no others of your kind, so you're feeling alone, aren't you? Well, you're not alone, silly girl." He chuckled. "In fact, you have the closest family you'd ever want, and they're all in this room. You have no need to feel sad about being alone, because you never will..." He leaned into her again, and planted a soft kiss onto her forehead, holding himself there with closed eyes--one hand was held behind her head and keeping her in close. It may have been rude to only focus on her; Vito only wanted to calm her down, though. That was what he wanted, so the others could wait. She was... right in front of him, so that was all he needed to know.
Guest- Guest
Re: {Hospital in Moscow} Waking up in Drachma (Post-Mission)
by Guest Thu Dec 08, 2011 9:21 pm
[Note: I changed Fran's account to this one mid-topic]
Guest- Guest
Re: {Hospital in Moscow} Waking up in Drachma (Post-Mission)
by Guest Wed Dec 14, 2011 9:20 pm
Outside of the waiting room, Lucien sat staring into the strange woman’s eyes. Every step she took, he followed her with his large golden eyes. The giant beast positions himself in front of the door entrance, clearly marking his territory. A low growl escapes his lips as he licks them teasingly. Of course Lucien wouldn’t just eat ANYONE, but if this woman attempted anything fun, he’d have fun with her. His paws batted against the chair she was sitting in, rocking it slightly with his mighty strength.
When the older gentleman walked into the room, this got a lot calmer and Tristao tilts his head and stares at Miguel with confusion. “Well it took you long eno-” He was caught off guard by the mans announcement of his friend laying dead in the next room. “Yo-you have Catalina here?” His voice froze and he glances back over to Fran who was now curled up against Vito.
Fran was being Fran, yapping and complaining about something. Truth is, he loved her dearly, but right now his mind and heart was destroyed. The woman who was so close to him was taken away from the palms of his hands. "I...have to stay here for months...alone?" Fran barely squeaks out from under her weary voice. The two made eye contact and it was strong. Of course he could read Fran, she was his best friend after all. The boy sighs and shakes his head, before walking closer to the bed.
"In fact, you have the closest family you'd ever want, and they're all in this room. You have no need to feel sad about being alone, because you never will..." Vito was trying, but Tristao knew that those words were empty to Fran, she was too upset about Rouen. If plan one doesn't work, you have to try plan two. The boy begins to speak in the native tongue that only she and him knew.
“Listen Fran, you won't be alone. I promise, you have all of us here.” He reaches the edge of her bed and points to Vito and Miguel. “Plus, I’ve always told you in the past that I would never ever ever leave you. If I do I have to stick a needle in my eye...” He chuckles slightly and takes hold of her hand very delicately. “I promise, Fran. When you’re better I’ll take you ‘Home’ “ He put extra emphasis on the word home, meaning Rouen. The boy gave his famous infectious smile and puts her hand to his heart. “I promise on all I have, Fran.”
When the older gentleman walked into the room, this got a lot calmer and Tristao tilts his head and stares at Miguel with confusion. “Well it took you long eno-” He was caught off guard by the mans announcement of his friend laying dead in the next room. “Yo-you have Catalina here?” His voice froze and he glances back over to Fran who was now curled up against Vito.
Fran was being Fran, yapping and complaining about something. Truth is, he loved her dearly, but right now his mind and heart was destroyed. The woman who was so close to him was taken away from the palms of his hands. "I...have to stay here for months...alone?" Fran barely squeaks out from under her weary voice. The two made eye contact and it was strong. Of course he could read Fran, she was his best friend after all. The boy sighs and shakes his head, before walking closer to the bed.
"In fact, you have the closest family you'd ever want, and they're all in this room. You have no need to feel sad about being alone, because you never will..." Vito was trying, but Tristao knew that those words were empty to Fran, she was too upset about Rouen. If plan one doesn't work, you have to try plan two. The boy begins to speak in the native tongue that only she and him knew.
“Listen Fran, you won't be alone. I promise, you have all of us here.” He reaches the edge of her bed and points to Vito and Miguel. “Plus, I’ve always told you in the past that I would never ever ever leave you. If I do I have to stick a needle in my eye...” He chuckles slightly and takes hold of her hand very delicately. “I promise, Fran. When you’re better I’ll take you ‘Home’ “ He put extra emphasis on the word home, meaning Rouen. The boy gave his famous infectious smile and puts her hand to his heart. “I promise on all I have, Fran.”
Guest- Guest
Re: {Hospital in Moscow} Waking up in Drachma (Post-Mission)
by Guest Sat Dec 24, 2011 5:34 pm
"I...have to stay here for months...alone?"
Ay.....it pained Miguel to hear her dejected voice, the increased depression of her demeanor when she saw him. She had to stay here? What could he say? What could he do? Tell her it was all okay when she was lying still in a hospital bed, drained of her bubbly happiness and energy....
It was Vito who spoke up now, and Miguel remained helpless silent as the younger man attempted to comfort and reassure her. Of course it was natural to make such promises to a broken girl, lying in bed. To bring her hope and happiness, that was the best thing for her, rather than despair, yet.... Sweet words could not fix anything. He would have to call Vasco and consult the doctors here in the hospital to determine what had to be done, and if she could be safely flown back to Esparian soil. Miguel stared blankly at his leather combat boots, stained with dry flakes of blood and damp with melted snow as he pondered the somber situation that engulfed them. Catalina, and now Francesca. This was....
"....I can imagine how you're feeling. You're one of the few surviving Rouenians in this world....."
Miguel perked up with sudden surprise, looking up at Vito with wide, golden eyes. He was...he was serious. He knew? She knew?
So.....Fran knew she was Rouenian....for all times for her to find out, it had to be now. What had uncovered this for her? Vasco had always hoped that she would not have to know the terrible truth, that she was a rare survivor of a terrible genocide, a holocaust that he soiled his own hands with..... Miguel felt his arms start to numb and shake
Tristao spoke now, more words of encouragement, of optimism. Of promises and childhood memories. However, he spoke in the tongue of Rouen. He had intended for these soothing words to be for Francesca's ears only, yet, unbeknownst to them, Miguel understood clearly. Perhaps now, it was time to tell her. Against Vasco's wishes, it was time to speak with her of things he hoped he would never have to tell her.
Miguel looked at Fran again, with soft golden eyes, filled with bitter somberness and guilt. When he spoke, his words were diluted and tender. A feeble attempt to soften the blow of their meaning. Yet perhaps most noticeable of all, he spoke in the language of her past. "So you know the truth, Francesca?" He swallowed loudly, his throat dry. "I am sorry, I never told you. I was in the war against Rouen. I participated in the extermination of the Rouenian people. I was there when Vasco had found you, and protected you. I regret my actions, I regret the blood on my hands. I murdered innocent Rouenians...women...children.... I though that maybe, if I protected you, if I kept you safe, if I kept you happy, then I could atone for my sins, if only a bit. But deserved to know the truth sooner, I know, but Vasco and I thought it might be best if you went without knowing, that somehow, it would protect you from those that might hurt you....from facing that horrible history. But please know, whether you are Rouenian or Esparian, you are still loved by your family. Te quiero, mija. Even if you don't forgive me, I still love you. I'll talk to Vasco and Valentin, I'll make sure you return home."
Miguel paused, waiting for the storm. Waiting for Fran to cry out and renounce him for his crimes, for his lies. The silence was overbearing, but it at least had granted him some relief, to be able to finally announce the truth, rather than bottle it away in a glass of tequila.
Ay.....it pained Miguel to hear her dejected voice, the increased depression of her demeanor when she saw him. She had to stay here? What could he say? What could he do? Tell her it was all okay when she was lying still in a hospital bed, drained of her bubbly happiness and energy....
It was Vito who spoke up now, and Miguel remained helpless silent as the younger man attempted to comfort and reassure her. Of course it was natural to make such promises to a broken girl, lying in bed. To bring her hope and happiness, that was the best thing for her, rather than despair, yet.... Sweet words could not fix anything. He would have to call Vasco and consult the doctors here in the hospital to determine what had to be done, and if she could be safely flown back to Esparian soil. Miguel stared blankly at his leather combat boots, stained with dry flakes of blood and damp with melted snow as he pondered the somber situation that engulfed them. Catalina, and now Francesca. This was....
"....I can imagine how you're feeling. You're one of the few surviving Rouenians in this world....."
Miguel perked up with sudden surprise, looking up at Vito with wide, golden eyes. He was...he was serious. He knew? She knew?
So.....Fran knew she was Rouenian....for all times for her to find out, it had to be now. What had uncovered this for her? Vasco had always hoped that she would not have to know the terrible truth, that she was a rare survivor of a terrible genocide, a holocaust that he soiled his own hands with..... Miguel felt his arms start to numb and shake
Tristao spoke now, more words of encouragement, of optimism. Of promises and childhood memories. However, he spoke in the tongue of Rouen. He had intended for these soothing words to be for Francesca's ears only, yet, unbeknownst to them, Miguel understood clearly. Perhaps now, it was time to tell her. Against Vasco's wishes, it was time to speak with her of things he hoped he would never have to tell her.
Miguel looked at Fran again, with soft golden eyes, filled with bitter somberness and guilt. When he spoke, his words were diluted and tender. A feeble attempt to soften the blow of their meaning. Yet perhaps most noticeable of all, he spoke in the language of her past. "So you know the truth, Francesca?" He swallowed loudly, his throat dry. "I am sorry, I never told you. I was in the war against Rouen. I participated in the extermination of the Rouenian people. I was there when Vasco had found you, and protected you. I regret my actions, I regret the blood on my hands. I murdered innocent Rouenians...women...children.... I though that maybe, if I protected you, if I kept you safe, if I kept you happy, then I could atone for my sins, if only a bit. But deserved to know the truth sooner, I know, but Vasco and I thought it might be best if you went without knowing, that somehow, it would protect you from those that might hurt you....from facing that horrible history. But please know, whether you are Rouenian or Esparian, you are still loved by your family. Te quiero, mija. Even if you don't forgive me, I still love you. I'll talk to Vasco and Valentin, I'll make sure you return home."
Miguel paused, waiting for the storm. Waiting for Fran to cry out and renounce him for his crimes, for his lies. The silence was overbearing, but it at least had granted him some relief, to be able to finally announce the truth, rather than bottle it away in a glass of tequila.
Guest- Guest
Re: {Hospital in Moscow} Waking up in Drachma (Post-Mission)
by Guest Mon Dec 26, 2011 3:19 am
"...so you're feeling alone, aren't you? Well, you're not alone, silly girl. In fact, you have the closest family you'd ever want, and they're all in this room. You have no need to feel sad about being alone, because you never will..."
"I...I know...I--" Forehead to forehead, she felt her own head spin and then lips were placed there. She was in another world--a world of Vito and only Vito, but his words felt empty, seamless as if there was nothing left to tie them together except just that kiss and nothing more. We aren't the same anymore, Vito... She romped around declaring herself an alien, acting weird, doing fun things for the sake of getting enjoyment out of life, but...so all along she had known she was different? And that joy...the joy had been for her entire race. She went out of her way to eat with her plate upside down for... them? No, no...that was just how she was, wasn't it? Or deep down inside had she known...had she known all along?
"Listen Fran, you won't be alone." He heart skipped a beat. Those sounds...that language. She turned her head, pulling away from Vito and staring with wide eyes at Tristao. When had he gotten so good at Rouenian? She had taught him...her alien language. She thought she had made it all up, but... Tristao grabbed her hand, giving her chills and making her already shallow breath hitch and suck all the energy out of her. But she couldn't look away for a moment, completely and utterly captivated. "I promise, you have all of us here. Plus, I’ve always told you in the past that I would never ever ever leave you. If I do I have to stick a needle in my eye..." Fran cracked a smile, laughing slightly at the old inside joke before wincing and clutching herself over the sheets. "I promise, Fran. When you’re better I’ll take you ‘Home’." Rouen? But... But!! She chewed on her lip, eyes focusing out of the haze of drugs for just a moment to clear into a sunlit sea green.
"It's because I have you...that wherever you are becomes my home." She took a breath, running out of drive and listing to one side and into Vito without even seeming to realize it. "Rouen or Esparia, Drachma--wherever we are right now doesn't matter as long as...as long as it's with all of you..."
"So you know the truth, Francesca?" Miguel? She squinted into the distance, wondering why it was so difficult to see just a few feet away. "I am sorry, I never told you. I was in the war against Rouen. I participated in the extermination of the Rouenian people. I was there when Vasco had found you, and protected you. I regret my actions, I regret the blood on my hands. I murdered innocent Rouenians...women...children.... I though that maybe, if I protected you, if I kept you safe, if I kept you happy, then I could atone for my sins, if only a bit. But deserved to know the truth sooner, I know, but Vasco and I thought it might be best if you went without knowing, that somehow, it would protect you from those that might hurt you....from facing that horrible history. But please know, whether you are Rouenian or Esparian, you are still loved by your family. Te quiero, mija. Even if you don't forgive me, I still love you. I'll talk to Vasco and Valentin, I'll make sure you return home."
At some point she had pulled away her hand from Tristao to cover her mouth. She stared without blinking as her eyes flooded with a monsoon of emotions. All at once she felt betrayed, lied to, pampered, used, anger, sorrow, and yet still she felt that love wafting off of him through those guilt-filled eyes. She wouldn't say it was okay--that he killed, murdered, and pillaged her people that she could not even remember. She couldn't run to him, hug him, and say that she loved him. If she did, right now, it would be a lie. She hated him; she hated those words coming out of his mouth, but at the same time she loved them. Finally. Finally she understood who she was. But had the ignorance been better? Then she wouldn't be feeling this way. Vasco wasn't her real father. Miguel wasn't her uncle at all. She was lied to, tricked, raised to be something she was not. Why?! Why...just so they could deal with their own sins? Did her smile erase that? Were her Rouenian ancestors in all their rigor mortise smile joyfully like she was? NO. She wasn't them! She wasn't! Don't make me them, tío! No...and he wasn't even her uncle. So what was this!? Her entire life was something manufactured like her guns, fit and made easy to fire. Well, she was misfiring now... Oh yes, she was failing... She blinked and so many tears fell at once that she thought she was drowning. She didn't even hear her own sobs as she buried her face deeper, out of sight, into her hands. Everything she had ever known...was a lie. She had a loving family and a home that followed them, but constructed by men who had killed the only thing that had ever been real.
The sobs began to ache and the spinning in her head suddenly took a turn for the worse. She found she couldn't breathe, hyperventilating until the air just completely cut off. Darkness crept, and she heard herself yelling no. Whether it was to deny the truth or deny the loss of consciousness, she didn't know nor never hoped to...
"I...I know...I--" Forehead to forehead, she felt her own head spin and then lips were placed there. She was in another world--a world of Vito and only Vito, but his words felt empty, seamless as if there was nothing left to tie them together except just that kiss and nothing more. We aren't the same anymore, Vito... She romped around declaring herself an alien, acting weird, doing fun things for the sake of getting enjoyment out of life, but...so all along she had known she was different? And that joy...the joy had been for her entire race. She went out of her way to eat with her plate upside down for... them? No, no...that was just how she was, wasn't it? Or deep down inside had she known...had she known all along?
"Listen Fran, you won't be alone." He heart skipped a beat. Those sounds...that language. She turned her head, pulling away from Vito and staring with wide eyes at Tristao. When had he gotten so good at Rouenian? She had taught him...her alien language. She thought she had made it all up, but... Tristao grabbed her hand, giving her chills and making her already shallow breath hitch and suck all the energy out of her. But she couldn't look away for a moment, completely and utterly captivated. "I promise, you have all of us here. Plus, I’ve always told you in the past that I would never ever ever leave you. If I do I have to stick a needle in my eye..." Fran cracked a smile, laughing slightly at the old inside joke before wincing and clutching herself over the sheets. "I promise, Fran. When you’re better I’ll take you ‘Home’." Rouen? But... But!! She chewed on her lip, eyes focusing out of the haze of drugs for just a moment to clear into a sunlit sea green.
"It's because I have you...that wherever you are becomes my home." She took a breath, running out of drive and listing to one side and into Vito without even seeming to realize it. "Rouen or Esparia, Drachma--wherever we are right now doesn't matter as long as...as long as it's with all of you..."
"So you know the truth, Francesca?" Miguel? She squinted into the distance, wondering why it was so difficult to see just a few feet away. "I am sorry, I never told you. I was in the war against Rouen. I participated in the extermination of the Rouenian people. I was there when Vasco had found you, and protected you. I regret my actions, I regret the blood on my hands. I murdered innocent Rouenians...women...children.... I though that maybe, if I protected you, if I kept you safe, if I kept you happy, then I could atone for my sins, if only a bit. But deserved to know the truth sooner, I know, but Vasco and I thought it might be best if you went without knowing, that somehow, it would protect you from those that might hurt you....from facing that horrible history. But please know, whether you are Rouenian or Esparian, you are still loved by your family. Te quiero, mija. Even if you don't forgive me, I still love you. I'll talk to Vasco and Valentin, I'll make sure you return home."
At some point she had pulled away her hand from Tristao to cover her mouth. She stared without blinking as her eyes flooded with a monsoon of emotions. All at once she felt betrayed, lied to, pampered, used, anger, sorrow, and yet still she felt that love wafting off of him through those guilt-filled eyes. She wouldn't say it was okay--that he killed, murdered, and pillaged her people that she could not even remember. She couldn't run to him, hug him, and say that she loved him. If she did, right now, it would be a lie. She hated him; she hated those words coming out of his mouth, but at the same time she loved them. Finally. Finally she understood who she was. But had the ignorance been better? Then she wouldn't be feeling this way. Vasco wasn't her real father. Miguel wasn't her uncle at all. She was lied to, tricked, raised to be something she was not. Why?! Why...just so they could deal with their own sins? Did her smile erase that? Were her Rouenian ancestors in all their rigor mortise smile joyfully like she was? NO. She wasn't them! She wasn't! Don't make me them, tío! No...and he wasn't even her uncle. So what was this!? Her entire life was something manufactured like her guns, fit and made easy to fire. Well, she was misfiring now... Oh yes, she was failing... She blinked and so many tears fell at once that she thought she was drowning. She didn't even hear her own sobs as she buried her face deeper, out of sight, into her hands. Everything she had ever known...was a lie. She had a loving family and a home that followed them, but constructed by men who had killed the only thing that had ever been real.
The sobs began to ache and the spinning in her head suddenly took a turn for the worse. She found she couldn't breathe, hyperventilating until the air just completely cut off. Darkness crept, and she heard herself yelling no. Whether it was to deny the truth or deny the loss of consciousness, she didn't know nor never hoped to...
[EXIT THREAD]
Guest- Guest
Re: {Hospital in Moscow} Waking up in Drachma (Post-Mission)
by Reila Tsukino Fri Jan 06, 2012 5:31 am
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