『伊達政宗』ᴅᴀᴛᴇ "LET ME DO IT KOJURO" ᴍᴀsᴀᴍᴜɴᴇ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
inroad) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
epidemiology2015-12-05 10:12 pm
inroad) wrote in epidemiology2015-12-05 10:12 pm
your mind's still trapped in twilight
CHARACTERS: Date Masamune & those that I owe a prompt to for this/discussed with.
DATE: after jail-breakout and dispersing
WARNINGS: will update if needed but probably not. He's just delirious from sickness .
SUMMARY: basically his escaping the playpen and then getting his five year-old ass dragged back to the doctor, anyway.
[ he tells himself he must have done this on purpose but he doesn't remember anything to back that claim of his up. He crawls out of the river bed, choking and coughing and gagging until it turns into involuntary retching of blood and bile. All that does is worsen his confused state and his inability to properly focus. This shouldn't be happening, he repeats over and over. His heart is racing as if he just ran here rather than arrived by horse and the chest pain he experiences is little better.
It was better to get out of there if this is the reality of his state, though, he's sure. The unfortunate thing is that it makes it a hell of a lot harder to figure out what to do next. Masamune has no plans on dying—but he wouldn't be responsible for anyone else's death, either, and in the chaos it was a rather rash decision that had no time to be considered. He made a promise to someone to survive (to whom he can't remember right now how stupid of him to forget a face and a name) but everything is suddenly such a mess now that the fight or flight response has drained from him. His condition seemed to deteriorate rapidly upon leaving (or was he the only one that hadn't noticed because it took too much concentration to keep steady?)
Now even breathing, no matter how hard he tries to calm it, is like gasping for air as the world around him spins. Maybe he can just lie here and rest for a few moments? Maybe he is far enough away from whatever he's running from that he can pull himself back together.
He buries his head in his arms, collapsing fully against the bank and tries to calm himself. It only results in a shudder from him despite his best efforts and he feels his horse's snout nudge against his head for a response but he doesn't react. How is his horse here, anyway? Is this real? He wants to tell it to find Kojuro. Kojuro will know what to do.
(He's lost in his own head in sickness, but he already knows that wherever he is, Kojuro is not. Kojuro is missing or has never been here to begin with. Masamune is alone. He's really absolutely alone. Illness like this is the worst because it renders the victim helpless and like a child and he's far too easily lost in fears that stalk him in his very own shadow, relentlessly seeking to plague him once a fracture is found.)
don't look down on me. don't reject me. don't leave me. don't hate me.
don't leave me like her. don't hate me like her.
He believes he merely thinks what he actually says now as he tries to lift himself upon the ground, doubtful and uncertain of himself as much as anyone else that looks on would be. ]
Kojuro, I need you. [ he grits his teeth, fingers curling and sinking into the mud. He hates this. All he can remember is being sick as a child, right now, and it's this same terrifying feeling that brought on all his problems from the start. Why does it have to always ruin everything? Why is Kojuro— ] Why are you somewhere I can't reach...?
DATE: after jail-breakout and dispersing
WARNINGS: will update if needed but probably not. He's just delirious from sickness .
SUMMARY: basically his escaping the playpen and then getting his five year-old ass dragged back to the doctor, anyway.
[ he tells himself he must have done this on purpose but he doesn't remember anything to back that claim of his up. He crawls out of the river bed, choking and coughing and gagging until it turns into involuntary retching of blood and bile. All that does is worsen his confused state and his inability to properly focus. This shouldn't be happening, he repeats over and over. His heart is racing as if he just ran here rather than arrived by horse and the chest pain he experiences is little better.
It was better to get out of there if this is the reality of his state, though, he's sure. The unfortunate thing is that it makes it a hell of a lot harder to figure out what to do next. Masamune has no plans on dying—but he wouldn't be responsible for anyone else's death, either, and in the chaos it was a rather rash decision that had no time to be considered. He made a promise to someone to survive (to whom he can't remember right now how stupid of him to forget a face and a name) but everything is suddenly such a mess now that the fight or flight response has drained from him. His condition seemed to deteriorate rapidly upon leaving (or was he the only one that hadn't noticed because it took too much concentration to keep steady?)
Now even breathing, no matter how hard he tries to calm it, is like gasping for air as the world around him spins. Maybe he can just lie here and rest for a few moments? Maybe he is far enough away from whatever he's running from that he can pull himself back together.
He buries his head in his arms, collapsing fully against the bank and tries to calm himself. It only results in a shudder from him despite his best efforts and he feels his horse's snout nudge against his head for a response but he doesn't react. How is his horse here, anyway? Is this real? He wants to tell it to find Kojuro. Kojuro will know what to do.
(He's lost in his own head in sickness, but he already knows that wherever he is, Kojuro is not. Kojuro is missing or has never been here to begin with. Masamune is alone. He's really absolutely alone. Illness like this is the worst because it renders the victim helpless and like a child and he's far too easily lost in fears that stalk him in his very own shadow, relentlessly seeking to plague him once a fracture is found.)
don't look down on me. don't reject me. don't leave me. don't hate me.
don't leave me like her. don't hate me like her.
He believes he merely thinks what he actually says now as he tries to lift himself upon the ground, doubtful and uncertain of himself as much as anyone else that looks on would be. ]
Kojuro, I need you. [ he grits his teeth, fingers curling and sinking into the mud. He hates this. All he can remember is being sick as a child, right now, and it's this same terrifying feeling that brought on all his problems from the start. Why does it have to always ruin everything? Why is Kojuro— ] Why are you somewhere I can't reach...?
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Ah, really? Well, I'll share the bed with you after, then we can both sleep like babies.
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I would be ruined for marriage forever if word of such got out- honestly, you are a cad.
[But a living one. Small hands, (sure hands), moved to his wound, carefully removing the salve, blood and pus crusted bandages from his wound that had gotten soggy over night, inspecting the rather gross sight with a clinical eye and nary a wrinkle in her nose for smell, nodding when she was pleased with the coloring. Free of further signs of infection.
Without missing a beat, albeit slowly, achingly, Sieglinde reached for a new roll of bandages, a jar of her salve, and sat to gently reapplying the medicine, her expression soft despite the fact what she'd just accused him of.]
Thank you.
[Said specifically in English, since he seemed to have a fondness for the language and she had just learned it herself back in her own world. "Thank you". - and not for offering to let her get some sleep.]
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But, he turns from musing over past battles and situations to her use of English and laughs. ]
Sieg can speak the language of dragons, too? Why didn't you tell me before?
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[Despite the fact that she was secretly sort of pleased with the idea that he would risk a scandal in order to protect her from an undesirable marriage (the plot of at least one questionable novel she's read in her day), she doesn't give him more than a lofty noise that is likely to supposed to sound like chastisement. But really, it's to disguise the fact that while once she had been quite avid in her search for a suitable man to carry out the famed lineage of the Green Witch, the appropriate male to father a daughter to continue the cycle she had been born in...
Those had been based on lies. And she didn't like to think about it, not when he supplied her with a convenient distraction for such things in the form of his wound. She, in turn, provided distraction with an offer to speak.]
I believe it is the language of the English, not dragons. But yes, I speak it.
[She'd admittedly always imagined dragons speaking Latin, but that was neither here nor there, carefully making sure to gentle her touch as she smoothed a salve over the puckered opening of his stab wound.]
I speak many tongues.
[A requirement for her duties, for learning. Ancient German, Latin, Italian, Gaelic... For spells and her ancient tomes. English, however, was her newest accomplishment.]
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—oh god she uses the same word that sorin weirdo used to describe dragon speak. He didn't realize it was a universal thing people were lied to with.
(Also they totally can't speak Latin because he doesn't speak Latin :(... Then again he is aware there are dragons in the west and they are quite fascinating. He knows they have wings, for starters. And breathe fire. )
He won't disagree with her—not in his current situation—but he nods at Sieglinde's proclamation. ]
I guess I shouldn't expect anything less from you.
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Of course not.
[Nimble fingers reached for the chain around her waist and pulled a smal pair of scissors from the ring on the end, snipping where needed and moving to lay the first swathe of gauze.]
And how many do you speak? You are a lord, are you not?
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[ that's what they all have translators for, really. ]
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[She could still call herself the Green Witch... It wasn't a lie. She could do it now, real magic. It wasn't untrue. But the titles she'd used to have... Lord of the Green Manor and Wolfsschlucht... They were behind her now. Her villagers had been her jailers not her wards- and she's glad that laying on his stomach Masamune wouldn't be able to easily see how her facial expression falls at the reminder.
She's all too eager to deflect back to him, keep him talking as she slowly begins padding the wound with bandages in preparation for the wrap.]
What do lords of your land learn, then? Besides the blade.
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Eh... Strategy, politics, history, the arts... tea... [ he thought it was boring doing it, but it's even worse just thinking about it. ] in the end, it's not so different as yours generally. Whatever is necessary to protect your people and have them prosper. The refinements are just extra stuff to differentiate your rank.
...I sort of hate it.
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[Perhaps it was a weird thing to be interested in out of all that he'd said, but. Sieglinde had only recently been introduced to the drink herself, and Ciel and his servants gave her the impression that in their land, only servants prepared such. - Her own servants of course had prepared all her meals and drinks.
Not they lived like that in this land.]
That does not surprise me.
[According to his temperament, he did not seem the sort to enjoy the studious hours spent in certain pursuits. With a small grunt, Sieglinde slid a hand beneath his shoulder, slipping the edge of a bandage beneath from the other side of his arm and catching it with reaching fingers, pulling it through to begin wrapping the wound without disturbing his shoulder- as much as possible.]
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Sort of. I don't usually make my own but to be able to properly prepare tea, to know the differences, to have fine tea sets, to know how to properly serve a guest, to know how to drink it... it's expected of any high housed individual. You're uncultured otherwise.
[ Masamune is going to start being a little lazy but only because he's starting to doze again. Even so, he does his best to keep being as accommodating as possible. He didn't think just talking about things would make him tired.
At least she isn't surprised on his overall view. ] If I can, I will take you there someday if you like. Kojuro will be happy to have someone who wants to read and act as a lord should rather than just having my delinquent ass running off to the frontlines in battle.
Do you like dance? Sieg would make a lovely dancer... [ he begins a yawn but stifles it because it begins to causes discomfort. ] Would have a lot of fans.
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They had that in common, at least. She gave an assenting noise to signal she was listening, even as she continued to steadily slip her small fingers beneath his shoulder, thread the bandage through, carefully lay a layer, then repeat the process. She could tell he was still drowsy, sinking back to sleep- but it would be better for his body if he did, and she wouldn't do anything to discourage it. (She would follow, but she had a job to finish first. Then.)]
I would like very much to see your lands.
[She'd only seen little of her own world's "outside"... Before the "outside world" became Chantes, and now she knew of all these others... All interesting, with their own rules and stories and people. So much to know and explore. She would like to meet this retainer of his that he spoke so highly of, and see the people he described, and their ways and their food and their learning. But. The smooth flow of her movements, bandaging, barely suffered for the small glitch.]
... I'll leave any dancing to others, however.
[The last time she tried, placing her newly bound feet on Wolfram's much larger shoes and commanding he dance with her, hold her hands and let her ride the movement of his own steps- the pain had reduced her tears, her handmaidens had scolded her, and she hadn't tried again. The Green Witch didn't need to dance.]
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He listens for her answers, and it's a moment of quiet before he quietly responds, concerned but in a way that suggests he's figured as much even if hoping otherwise. ]
...It's painful, huh?
[ the practice is not one he is familiar with personally but he recognizes from journals travelers had detailed nevertheless. He doesn't like it, finds it just another way for a mother to have control of her daughters... He could mention the positive view of it, that the most beautiful if dancers wore the lotus shoes that hers are quite similar to... But they are older. Until she stops growing, he imagines it's the same for Sieglinde and all girls her age, they're really simply made helpless . ]
It's all right... I'll dance with you. I'll be your feet if you'll be my wings. [ he means arms, particularly, but the dancing he's thinking of uses fans and as far as he's concerned, it becomes a lot more important and symbolic than just hand techniques.
For what it's worth he is stubbornly trying not to fall asleep, wanting to at least make sure she gets her own rest properly once she's done.
Really, Masamune knows the people of Oushuu—his men in particular that he and Kojuro would probably be tossing off balconies for their drunk tendencies to run around and dance naked if Sieg was actually there because for the love of god what faster way to turn her off to men than that?--would not let her be stuck to watch on the sidelines. They have a lot of energy and dancing is important to them so even of they were to simply pick her up to take her through the motions it would happen. ]
We can get you the pretty clothes and everything. Although, they won't be black... is there a reason you wear black? Do you like it or is it just the color of choice where you are from? If you like it, I'm sure we can get them made.
[ he's talking like this is a real thing that's going to happen; rambling now because legit anything to stay awake as falling asleep. In his head it's not random at all. ]
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Until then, Wolfram had unbound them and rebound them tighter at least once a week, massaged the flesh and bent her toes. - It was less painful each time, as she gradually lost the ability to feel beneath her ankles. But she hadn't done the procedure since her arrival to Chantes, instead waiting until Masamune was asleep to simply change the bandages and wash them best she could without quite looking at her own feet. That had gotten more painful, to see something she'd once viewed as a proud symbol of her position as the Green Witch but now could only see as a sign of how perfectly ignorant she'd been.
And here Masamune was, injured, and rambling, but rambling about her, and letting her dance, and she keeps her eyes on the bandaging, but for some reason her gaze was wavering and she had to slow down to make sure she didn't make a mistake.]
My handmaidens picked all of my clothes... it seemed fitting enough...
[Thankfully for Masamune, she has a steady enough hand to continue despite her rapidly blurring vision. She'd let him keep talking, no matter the topic, because it meant he was alive to do the talking in the first place.]
- Are you a good dancer?
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[ the significance of her bound feet in relation to her mother, if he ever finds out, not so hard to relate to his eye and his own mother. Completely opposite, actually, but the underlying significance and their mothers and what their mothers really felt (or didn't feel at all).
and of course he would stop if he had any idea he was upsetting her, but perhaps there's a feeling in the back of his mind stating all the stronger a need to stay awake until its done for that reason. because he doesn't know what she's feeling, but seeing an exhausted girl when you wake up and know she never seems to get tired ever doing her science, you have to wonder what kind of trouble you put her through, mentally as well as physically. ]
...Not sure. Do our cultures even dance the same way? You might be very disappointed in my ability.
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[It was more likely that they did not- after all, his style of clothing and fighting was not what she was familiar with, and the same went for language. It was the best guess to be made- that they likely wouldn't be familiar with each other's dance styles.
But she still says it in barely a notch above a whisper, not wanting to force her voice louder to reveal the waver in it, a few hot tears spilling from her eyes and plopping onto Masamune's back as Sieglinde finished up his bandage, tying the knot at the top of shoulder so he could still rest comfortably on his back.
She hasn't cried since he and the rest had been imprisoned. She'd held on to her dignity, made due with promises and hope, even when she was afraid he might die. Even last night when she'd been afraid it would be too late to keep her own promise to him, that she might be too late to save his arm, or prevent permanent damage-
But he was alive. He was safe, now. And the stupid, foolish, reckless oaf wanted her to be able to pick out a dress and dance. It was so outlandish, she-]
You'll have to show me- later, once you've recovered.
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Not sure what you've been told your whole life but since you're here with me now, it's worth letting you know that it's okay to cry. It doesn't make you inferior in any way or childish.
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But it's been a long day, a long week, a long month, and he was offering, (and he was alive)-
Sieglinde's small body started to shake with the force of the sobs she was holding back, biting her lip as the tears began to stream down her face- which she promptly tried to hide away against his side, curling into a tight little ball with a desperate hitch in her voice.]
Don't-
[She was trying to talk, she managed to get out the first parts of "don't ever-", but the wail of relief (he's alive, she could fix him, his arm will be fine) tore out of her instead, and she curled in tighter instead, crying out the stress and fears of the past weeks all at once.]
hdu
It's hard to imagine—he's been fighting so long to keep going that he can't see himself having not made it out of those situations (because he had to he had promised—) with or without those people. Except, maybe that's exactly his greatest asset but also his greatest flaw. Back home he has no choice, he's the leader and he has responsibilities that require him to see things through no matter what. Here, though... what's he really got here that requires him to not let others help, that requires him to show the Date clan is formidable all on its own. There is no Tiger of Kai or War God here to prove his worth to.
There's not even Kojuro to not under any circumstances disappoint or Yukimura that he can't fail to live up to expectations.
That's back home. Here? What does he have here?
( ... He has a young lady that has become a priority without even realizing it. And he's done a fine job of terrifying her because of his lack of sensitivity.)
It'll be easy to get his back up when Kida's angry and Muneshige is giving him that look and insist he only had the best intentions in his choices. He didn't want to be a burden to them while they were fighting
(he didn't want to be helpless, didn't know how he'd be able to handle something going wrong and unable to do anything but watch them suffer),
he didn't want to head straight for medical assistance because the guards were still too persistent and they probably wouldn't spare any doctor or healer they thought would aid a criminal
(he didn't want to be responsible for innocent people being harmed because of his insufficiency),
that he didn't go straight to Sieglinde even though they had discussed this all beforehand because other people needed tending to first and he didn't want to make her job harder
(he didn't want to see her fault herself if she wasn't able to live up to her promise, he was too afraid to accept that sort of result without his retainer there to have his back)...
Excuses are easy when everyone else has a wall up, too. But, right now he thinks he gets it even if it hadn't crossed his mind until now. What sort of excuse do you really have for someone who is simply crying over the fact that they were really worried you were going to go die on them and they have no wall to hide behind of their own?
Absolutely none.
He exhales slowly, bringing his hand up to slip his fingers into her hair and cradle the backing her head, letting her hide as she wishes. ]
I'm sorry. To let you really worry even a little that it might happen is the worst.
[and he did way more than let her worry a little. She can hide and cry until she's got nothing left, he'll still be here.
He does move enough so he can rest his cheek on top of her head affectionately, closing his eyes. ] I promise I won't ever.
[ I won't ever leave you alone. ]
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That had made it almost easy for her when she arrived- a break with her old life, even if she was plagued by nightmares, if she still worried for her manservant, if she still bore the wounds inflicted on her by her circumstances. She met new people, found a place to live, a job to work towards- and all because of happenstance, she'd found someone willing to take care of her. To help her. To care about her.
And the idea of losing that person, just like she maybe lost Wolfram, was terrifying. Her new world had been built with Masamune holding up one corner, and if he was gone...
What if she hadn't even been able to reach him? What if he'd died in that jail, or been hanged in the street? What if she could treat him but couldn't save him, what if she could save him but not his arm, what if he died and his blood was on her small hands-
So she sobbed for those fears and her worries and her exhaustion and all the wounds she'd treated last night, all the people who had been hurt in the rebellion. Because her feet were infected and she was afraid to look beneath the bandages instead of just mask it with sweet-smellin herbs wound into her bandages. Because her mother had broken them in the first place and used her to create a poison that could kill thousands. Because she missed her home even though it had all been lies.
Because Masamune almost died.
She hiccups at his apology, still hiding her face against his side and half cupped in her hands, pulling her knees up tighter and yet still finding comfort in the hand she felt on her head, stroking through the mess of her tangled hair, because it meant he was moving and talking, and he said he was sorry.]
Don't ever do it again-
[It was a bit late, but that's what she'd been trying to say- and she forces of out even if he beat her to the actual answer she wanted to that sort of statement. Even hauled back her arm... And punched him in the (good) shoulder, weak as she was compared to him.]
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What would she do now that all her abuse and all of her disgust created such a result?)
Maybe it's these sorts of things that unknowingly bind people to certain others. Their mothers both being the cause of their misery: one by fabricating something that never existed and another destroying what should have once been there. Living a lie was no better than living the reality of being deprived of what a mother was meant to be for.
Masamune still longs to fill that void, reaching and wanting something he can't identify nevermind understand. That longing doesn't exist on the battlefield though— but it's only with someone else of the same nature that he feels every desire he knew about and didn't reach satisfaction. And the feeling is something he never wants to let go of once he has it.
But he always loses it because he can't stand still in a moment in time in eternal battle with a certain someone that understood him and he them without ever having met prior to a fateful encounter. Everytime he exits from that high, it's like being gutted. No matter how many times they reunite or promise to continue later, it's hard to ignore the dull apathy that starts to creep its shadow back over its victim. That's why this had been so close, perhaps. Never has he been wounded like that outside of battle. Almost two weeks of being worn down and wasting away without even realizing it because it's the same feeling he's gone through the motions of life with. Of course he would not be able to assess much of anything on his condition when starting from that point.
So, really, he can't do anything but accept this and be relieved she's crying finally, relieved that she's letting it all out. It's a lot for anyone to hold in but it's the lack of opportunity in years experience that puts her at a more vulnerable state, not because she's a "child". Even so, as much as he dislikes hearing her cry and seeing it, too, it's... endearing in some manner. He knows she's crying over a lot of things but she has made clear one of them is him. And while he doesn't want anyone to cry over him, to see someone express their care for you so easily is a feeling that takes even the heaviest of weight off of his chest. Kojuro is the only one he has back home. This girl that he just by chance landed near and asked a a question she was willing to try and answer... What the hell, honestly? Someone gets special just like that?
(Even punching him for good measure. He doesn't laugh, but there's a slightly exasperated sigh that comes from him with a small smile, catering to her while she cries in a calm and soothing manner.)
He doesn't know but he doesn't feel a need to find out, either. ] As long as you don't want me to, I won't.
[ when he was younger Kojuro saved him from everything, including himself. He would like to say he wants to do the same with Sieglinde, whatever it is that haunts her. But, the more immediate situation seems to be that this girl has saved him from once again losing to himself.
Maybe he knows nothing about how to take care of someone or treat them a certain certain way and an acceptable manner. But he knows one thing: ]
Cry as much as you need to but know you're important to me. [ and that alone is enough for him to do and act regardless. If he doesn't know he can learn. That's what is done for those important, right? ] I'll do my best not to give you reason to cry again.
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But it doesn't work, because no one in her life has told her so plainly that they were important to them, with no strings attached. She's been important all her life, even if it had been lies- she's heard how important she was to the village, to save the women, to her ancestor's legacy, to create the ultimate magic, and in her last moments in her world she'd been shown how important she was to Wolfram... but no one had ever said it.
She didn't know what to do with that, with being told so plainly that she was important to someone. To him.
Struggling to stop crying, and still failing, Sieglinde managed to pull herself half back-up on the mattress, reaching with her small hands to gently grasp his injured one, mumbling through the tears.]
Once I am able to use magic again, I will finish work on your arm... if you give me a few days I'll make sure it's fine-
[She could do that, even through her tears and her red face and tangled hair and mussed clothes, taking a moment to futilely and shamelessly wipe her nose with one of her sleeves.]
I'll make it as good as new, so-
[She'd also never told anyone that. Not in words. That they were important to her.
But he was.]
You just rest....
no subject
He's not perfect at any of this by a longshot but so long as he keeps getting his chances to learn his lessons, he'll keep intently aiming to fix things. If he didn't, it would be rather disappointing to have him fall short where it matters most. While she has her hands on his injured one he moves his good one to slip from her head to tuck back some strands of her long hair out of the way of falling Into her face. He'll help her brush out the tangles later, no sense worrying about it now. It's not as if he really has the strength to do much of anything past talk to her and keep her close. ]
All right. [ He can do such a thing. ] I will wait— if you will stay with me, even if just for a little bit. [ he wants her to rest, also, but it's hard to deny her being around makes him feel more at ease. Is it because another person makes it less lonely or because it's her in particular? He's not sure but she is special, that much he knows. He's hopes saying it like that will encourage her more, particularly to rest. If it sounds more for his benefit than hers, perhaps it will ease her upset a little, make her see she has done more than fine in his opinion, that she has plenty more to offer one she recovers. ]
I just need you here with me and I know everything will turn out fine.
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Of course.
[She was exhausted herself, there was no denying that, with as many patients as she'd seen and how much magic she'd used in a single night- more than she ever had experimented with. (Oh, no, and she'd run out of supplies as well, so she'd need to restock-)
Carefully, she lay his hand back at his side, patting it before she switched to his uninjured one, only holding it lightly without picking it up, shifting her skirts and arranging her atrophied legs to get more comfortable. It was weak and wavering, but she did manage a smile.]
I'll stay right here until you sleep. I promise.
[Throwing herself into her work was how she kept going, how she processed, and she could make all the plans she wanted to... but there was little chance she'd manage to extricate herself before she, too, fell back into the realm of the unconscious.]