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closed;
WHO: Faolan & Laurent
WHERE: Their (Laurent's) swanky apartment
WHEN: Various dates throughout the month
WHAT: Several moments throughout the month between their trips to their respective team locations.
WARNINGS: Laurent's mouth is not PG and neither are the dubious consent implications in regains
WEEK ONE
It's been one hell of a day, Faolan thinks to himself as he stumbles down the street to the apartment that he shares with Laurent. His shirt and jacket are covered in blood and hanging off of his shoulder where the wolf had bitten him, though there are hardly any people out on the street and those that are apparently have seen enough trauma today themselves they are paying the sight of it little heed. Which is probably for the best. All he wants is to get back to the apartment and make certain that Laurent does too.
It's only once he's riding in the lift up to their door itself that he realizes he probably might have sent the other man a message checking in. But if he was in the middle of something he doesn't want to distract him and risk his life with a text. Who knows what Laurent had encountered down in the depths of those subways. Perhaps Laurent has made it back before him -- perhaps he will not make it back for a while yet. Faolan laments the fact that he will have to get used to not being able to perform his full duties, as he carefully sets the key in the lock in the front door and lets himself in.
WHERE: Their (Laurent's) swanky apartment
WHEN: Various dates throughout the month
WHAT: Several moments throughout the month between their trips to their respective team locations.
WARNINGS: Laurent's mouth is not PG and neither are the dubious consent implications in regains
WEEK ONE
It's been one hell of a day, Faolan thinks to himself as he stumbles down the street to the apartment that he shares with Laurent. His shirt and jacket are covered in blood and hanging off of his shoulder where the wolf had bitten him, though there are hardly any people out on the street and those that are apparently have seen enough trauma today themselves they are paying the sight of it little heed. Which is probably for the best. All he wants is to get back to the apartment and make certain that Laurent does too.
It's only once he's riding in the lift up to their door itself that he realizes he probably might have sent the other man a message checking in. But if he was in the middle of something he doesn't want to distract him and risk his life with a text. Who knows what Laurent had encountered down in the depths of those subways. Perhaps Laurent has made it back before him -- perhaps he will not make it back for a while yet. Faolan laments the fact that he will have to get used to not being able to perform his full duties, as he carefully sets the key in the lock in the front door and lets himself in.
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Faolan had poured himself a glass of the strongest alcohol they'd had in the apartment and he'd sat himself down on the breakfast island to wait for Laurent to return as well. So lost in his thoughts that once he does he stands up so fast he nearly trips and spills his drink at the same time.
"You're back," he says. Realizing only after the fact how the comment must sound to the other man, and how he must have looked while saying it for that matter.
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"What happened?"
Since clearly something did, Faolan looks an absolute mess. A fight, presumably? Has he had it treated?
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He shifts awkwardly for a moment, though there's nothing to cover himself so he stops fidgeting once he realizes that. Glancing at the newly-appeared scar on his shoulder, the same shoulder that is still largely caked with blood from his earlier bite, he stares at it for too long before looking back at Laurent.
"I was... Attacked by a wolf," he says. Though whether this is from the shadow wolf or the wolf in his -- dreams? His mind? His memory? His past? He cannot say for certain.
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He abandons fussing with his shirt and crosses the space quickly, frowning at the mess of blood and -- scar tissue? That must be older, then, but still.
"Have you cleaned it? You'll need a rabies vaccine, I should think."
Since a bite from a wolf is not likely to be a clean affair. He crosses around to the cupboard anyway, begins digging for something to wash the blood off with so he can get a better look.
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"He healed it," he continues, coming back to his point. "With -- magic, I suppose. Or I thought he did. It stopped bleeding and it stopped hurting and I suppose that I just assumed..." He trails off, glancing down at his shoulder again, slightly alarmed at it himself.
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Laurent returns a moment later with a small bowl of lukewarm water and a clean cloth, wets it and carefully begins to clean off the dark blood so he can get a better look at wound (or scar) itself.
"I can't employee a bodyguard who cannot use their arm, nor one who has rabies. It may not exist in France but it does out here, you will get this looked at and you will make sure you are vaccinated."
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He watches as Laurent cleans the blood away. It's not the first time he's been injured on the job by any means but the way it happened and the fact that he cannot understand whether this came from the wolf today or the wolf in his mind leaves him feeling slightly unsteady.
"What about you?" Faolan asks, his eyes dark as he searches Laurent's face as he works. "Are you alright? What happened down there?"
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He hasn't particularly examined Faolan closely, but Laurent thinks he would have noticed a scar of this size before had it been there. Did magic leave scars? Does it depend on the wound? Not knowing what is normal and what is not bothers him, leaves him uneasy as he cleans the area. How would he know if something had gone wrong?
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"I don't know," he replies, honestly. "I would have thought that... If a man were to use magic to heal another, that it wouldn't leave quite so obvious a mark behind. And besides that, there was..." He trails off for a moment, taking in a deep breath, letting it out slowly before glancing back up at Laurent. "I remember being attacked once before. Bitten on my shoulder, just like this. But I do not know..."
He glances back down at himself again. He's been doing a lot of this, since he noticed the scar's sudden appearance. "I cannot say for certain which instance this is from. If such a thing is even possible. An injury gained from a memory..."
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"If our memories truly are from... another life, how would it be possible for them to make a physical change?"
It makes no sense to Laurent, yet then again none of this does. He cleans the scar tissue carefully, and tries not to imagine how big the wolf might have been.
"There was lot of blood."
It was more than just a scratch. This should have been deep. This should have required a doctor.
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"I suppose that I was lucky that one of the people I was with could heal it for me in the first, or tonight might have ended rather differently," he allows, reaching a hand up and tracing it against the scar Laurent is uncovering. It certainly feels like a scar, anyway. But it hardly feels real. One is not supposed to acquire an old wound without really remembering the injury in the first place. He stares at his fingers for a moment, before wiping them off on his jeans.
"I've been told that another theory is that this is an issue of separate selves," he says. "Multiverse, that sort of thing." Rosalind explained it a lot better than he'll ever be able to, but he'll certainly try to give it a go, for Laurent's sake.
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Laurent was kneeling on the wet marble hundreds of miles from home, pressing this stranger's left hand against the wound.
"There's a lot of blood," said Laurent.
"Luckily," he says, "I brought a physician."
Laurent lets out a breath, a strange airless sound.
He blinks and sways a little, eyes focusing on the dark smears of blood once more.
"Yes," he says absently, then lifts his eyes to fix on Faolan's. "That sort of thing."
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If it's the sight of the blood that's getting to him, he can stop. Faolan doesn't think that there's really a wound there, just this scar that had suddenly appeared at the thought of it. The memory, really. It's in roughly the same place as where the shadow wolf had bitten him earlier, but that could have been merely coincidence. A man's shoulder presents quite the target, especially in a fight, and he hadn't really gotten a good look at the wound before Ardyn had healed it, however he'd done so.
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He goes back to carefully cleaning off the dried blood again, stopping to wring out the cloth a few times.
"I might have been forced to hire a new bodyguard."
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"And how might you ever replace me?" Faolan asks the other man, airily. "Especially in a place like this. We're going to have to revisit the idea of employing natives on the side in the first..." Faolan had not been happy with what had happened after the convention, when Laurent's then bodyguard had abandoned ship.
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He finishes cleaning the blood off finally and sets the cloth down, lifts a hand to trace the scare with absent curiosity. It doesn't seem new, but could that be down to magic? He would have to compare, he supposes, with other wounds closed by the same craft.
"It seems cleanly closed."
At least, so far as he can tell. No amount of washing and poking will tell him if some infection is yet to come, of course. Only time will.
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He glances down again at his shoulder, following Laurent's examination as best he can given the angle. Resisting the shiver that creeps up his spine at the press of the other man's hands against his skin, the trace of his fingers against the sensitive tissue of the scar that -- while it looks and feels old -- had not previously been there before.
"It feels healed," he replies. "That is, when the shadow wolf bit me, there were... Side effects. But they went away as soon as he worked his magic. That's why I thought he'd healed the wound." He shrugs. "There isn't really any way of knowing which wolf this came from. Unless..." He trails off, paling slightly.
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His eyes lift from the scar, studying Faolan curiously for a long moment. Unless what? Are 'shadow wolves', whatever that means, particularly different or some way when they bite?
"If you tell me you are in danger of changing under a full moon I won't believe it."
Laurent's suspension of disbelief has already been stretched a long way this week, there isn't much more he can take. Shadow werewolves is definitely pushing things.
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"No, what I meant is. In the memory. The wolf in my memory, that wasn't the only place that it bit me. But I..." He hasn't gotten himself fully undressed, in order to give himself the full once-over, yet. He moves his hand to his belt, beginning to unfasten it so that he will be able to remove his jeans. "If these scars are from the memory, then I will have another."
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He's just saying. Faolan is unbuckling in front of him, he'd better have a good reason for this.
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He turns his attention back to the belt at his waist, quickly unfastening the buckle before undoing the buttons of his jeans and -- now terribly self-conscious about the whole ordeal -- hesitating for a moment. "The wolf," he says again. "In the memory I had. I was attacked in two places. Shoulder and knee. If the scars is from the shadow wolf, then I shouldn't have a mark on my leg." It's a valid point, right, Laurent? Please agree that it's a valid point, he's really not doing this just to strip in front of you, he swears.
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Stripping, that is. Laurent gestures for him to do just that -- carry on -- since he has hesitated.
"You have me on tenterhooks now, I'm waiting to see if your memories have scarred you more physically than first expected."
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"Don't be an ass," Faolan replies. "Tenterhooks is a bit much." He contemplates stopping here altogether but there was a point to this. Flicking his eyes warily at the younger man, he half turns away and finishes removing his jeans. Pulling them down and off (luckily already having toed off his shoes at the door) and tossing them aside with the rest of his clothes to stare at -- his knee. And the new angry tear of a scar ripping its way across his skin there as well.
It's just as well there is a stool behind him as Faolan finds himself sitting in it rather abruptly.
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"None of the wolves that physically attacked you did this?"
They didn't hit his legs at all? Laurent believes that is what Faolan is implying, but he needs it confirmed.
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"No," Faolan replies. "I was only bitten in the shoulder by the wolves in the forest. The bite was... It hurt. Like being stabbed with ice. Cold to the touch, with ice in my veins. And you saw how much it bled. I would have realized I had been attacked elsewhere. And I did not. But I remember..." He trails off for a moment, glancing away for how ridiculous it sounds, before forcing himself to elaborate. "I remember fighting wolves, in a forest. Around a fire. Fighting them with only fire and a knife to defend myself and my companion. Them attacking me. And I remember... Being saved by a third."
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