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Post by Ashlin Thomas on May 16, 2011 22:25:54 GMT -8
Muffling her gasp behind both of her hands Ashlin found herself blinking back tears at what she was seeing. Oh god what had happened to him? And why in the world was he cleaning?! He should be resting in bed! It took her legs a moment to stop feeling like jelly but the instant they did she was rushing over to him and valiantly holding back the urge to throw her arms around him and hug him. This was more out of a fear that she might further aggravate his injuries than due to her knowledge that Michael disliked being touched. She doubted she'd have been able to hold back at the moment if it was just the latter. "Michael? Michael?" She called trying to get his attention, sitting on her knees next to where he was working.
Not that he'd be cleaning for much longer if she had any say in the matter. Oh no she was getting him right to bed so he could use his burn lotion, and the bruise cream (that she was now thanking whatever deity was listening for) that she'd decided to bring.
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Post by Mister Stewart on May 16, 2011 22:40:06 GMT -8
Despite how frantic she was, Michael hardly spared a moment looking up at her - his eyes (why were they so dull? He looked half-dead!) merely flicking in her direction as he continued working. Still going over the same spot on the floor in mechanical little circles. One. Two. Three. Four more times. When he finally spoke, it was hardly above a whisper, eerie and hoarse.
"Knocked over a bottle. Need to take care of it." He wasn't rhyming. Still another red flag. He blinked. "Work to do."
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Post by Ashlin Thomas on May 16, 2011 22:51:50 GMT -8
He wasn't rhyming, she realized with just a bit of horror. Even when he'd been drunk he'd still rhymed (they might not have been good but they'd been there) and it somehow just seemed wrong for him to not rhyme. Reaching out to grab his hands, she did her best to be gentle, to not hurt his injuries, but she had to stop him from cleaning. He was only going to hurt himself. "Michael, please, you have to stop. Its clean. It's clean. Please stop." she begged, unable to hold back a few tears.
No wonder Mr.Stewart looked so worried! Michael seemed to be half delirious at this point, and the emptiness in his eyes sent chills down her spine. She didn't care how much bigger than her he was, she decided with an iron resolve, she was going to get him stop working even if she had to use physical force. This promise would have likely held a good deal more weight if Michael wasn't a good foot taller than her, and if she didn't weigh a buck ten soaking wet.
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Post by Mister Stewart on May 16, 2011 23:04:50 GMT -8
The young man winced as she grabbed his hands - his attention finally caught, he looked up at her, blinking a couple of times. He tried to sit back on his heels without thinking, but with his leg injury, he couldn't - instead awkwardly sinking back sidesaddle with a short yelp of pain. His shaking was more noticeable under her grip...also his slightly elevated temperature. Was he sick? He certainly looked ill....
"...Who let you in....?" Softly.
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Post by Ashlin Thomas on May 16, 2011 23:12:14 GMT -8
"The door was open." she told him just as softly back with her best attempt at a smile, it turned out to be rather more of a grimace though. Her eyes were moving swiftly trying to catalog all his injuries now that he was finally looking at her. "I came to give you the burn lotion." she felt the need to explain, still speaking in the very soft, very worried voice.
She could feel his hands shaking underneath her's, and he was far too warm. That combined with the pained yelp and his awkward, stiff motions (he was usually so, graceful) had Ashlin growing more concerned by the second. "Oh Michael, what happened to you?" she begged softly, her eyes looking suspiciously moist.
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Post by Mister Stewart on Jun 22, 2011 17:52:12 GMT -8
She might have tried to smile...but Michael didn't. His stormy eyes were fixed upon her in a dim stare, his face hardly changing from its dull, drawn, blank expression. "...Right...the burn lotion...." His voice was distant, far-off - his eyes were glassy.
Until she asked him what happened. It was like a switch went off inside his head - he gave a shuddering gasp, tearing his hands away to hug himself around his shoulders and wrench his eyes shut. In place of answering, for the moment, he just shook his head from side to side, bearing his teeth in a frightened grimace.
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Post by Ashlin Thomas on Jun 22, 2011 18:01:20 GMT -8
Ashlin felt her eyes widen in horror as she saw Michael's reaction. "You don't have to tell me!" she said frantically, trying to get him to calm down before he hurt himself or aggravated any of his injuries. "It's okay, I won't make you tell me!" She promised a few tears slipping out. Michael had been fine two days ago, tired, and a little out of it but fine. This was. . .
What in the world could have happened to him?! She lay a hesitant hand on his shoulder, wanting to offer some comfort but afraid of how he would react; it felt oddly like she was walking on egg shells.
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Post by Mister Stewart on Jun 22, 2011 18:43:46 GMT -8
There was a very long moment where Michael didn't open his eyes - curled up slightly under her touch, hiding and cringing at whatever memory he was recalling. Keeping his eyes shut was even worse, however...smoke curled through the black space behind his eyes, heat prickling against his skin - Ash would, briefly, feel him actually get a bit warmer under her hand.
His eyes snapped open again in fright, darting around the room wildly as if half-expecting something to come jumping out at him...and then he reached up to rub frantically at his eyes, giving her an idea how that burst blood vessel and scratch across his forehead might have happened. The gasp that issued from him rattled in his chest, promptly sending him into a harsh, choking cough.
It was more than a little clear that he needed help - and more than a little clear why Mister Stewart was so rattled.
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Post by Ashlin Thomas on Jun 22, 2011 20:09:36 GMT -8
Quickly reaching to take hold of his hand (and stop him from further scratching himself up) while her other hand rubbed his back, she tried to help him though the hacking coughs. "We're getting you to bed." Ashlin said firmly. "No more cleaning." Ashlin would not be taking no for an answer, not when Michael was shaking like a leaf and seemed to be running a slight fever (she could feel him warming beneath her fingers.)
Ashlin stood up, trying to pull Michael up with her. He needed rest, and maybe some soup and tea. "We can apply the burn solve and then you need to shower and rest." She gave him a look that promised she <i>would</i> be making this happen, even if she had to force him. She was pretty sure Mr.Stewart would back her up on this, so that had to add some leverage as well.
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Post by Mister Stewart on Jun 22, 2011 21:30:37 GMT -8
It took a few moments, but the cough did lessen and quiet, leaving Michael rasping as he stumbled up to his feet. At first, he didn't say anything, merely struggling to get his footing, his arm curling around Ashlin's shoulders for support. But then, after a moment, words finally issued...soft, halting, shaky.
"...Can't...can't sleep. I have work...to do. Can't...sleep...."
Michael sounded confused - rather unlike his usual self. The rain roared against the window of the main room, adding an ominous overtone to the whole situation...weighing down upon the two of them. The sound was offensive to him, and he shut his eyes against it, groaning a little as he forced himself to move.
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Post by Ashlin Thomas on Jun 22, 2011 21:45:17 GMT -8
"You can clean when you're better." she told him firmly, almost scolding him. "I'm certain Mr.Stewart will understand, and that he'd rather see you better as well." He had looked so worried, and Ashlin could understand why. As if poor Michael's injuries weren't enough the fact that he still wasn't rhyming was incredibly disturbing to her. Ashlin was more than willing to let Michael lean on her all he needed, even if it was a bit awkward given their height difference.
"At the very least let me apply the solve." she insisted. She refused to give up on getting him to sleep but Ash was willing to say anything to just get him to stop cleaning for the moment. It would be easier to get him to rest then anyway. "Which way is your room?"
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Post by Mister Stewart on Jun 22, 2011 22:20:12 GMT -8
If he opened his eyes, the rain seemed louder - he could see it outside, he could feel the sting it brought to his scars; if he shut them, he could see the smoke, the flame...he couldn't escape. He was trapped in his terror, and it was making him feel trapped. He clung desperately to Ash, no longer speaking in favor of faint groans. As Ashlin and Michael emerged from the storage closet, Mister Stewart wheeled up in concern, shoulders tightened and eyes wary behind his mask. He heard the question that she had tried to ask - and with a silent gesture, he ushered her over to his little console to read what he had typed. 'His room is just off the dining hall. Out the door to the right, down the hall, second door on your left. His room is marked with a placard on the door.'
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Post by Ashlin Thomas on Jun 22, 2011 22:42:43 GMT -8
Between the concerned glances she continued to shoot Michael, Ashlin gave Mr.Stewart a weak smile. "Thank you." she said with a little nod. "C'mon Michael let's get you to your room." Michael was probably lighter than a man his height should be but he was still a good deal larger than Ashlin which made it slow going in their current state. Ashlin wondered what it was that Michael saw when he closed his eyes that so terrified him. It must have been absolutely awful for him to cling to her like this when he didn't even like to be touched. She had one arm wrapped around his waist trying to steady him as they walked.
She gave him a slight nudge with her head. "It'll be okay Michael." she said softly trying to offer some comfort against whatever demons were plaguing him. Ashlin wished she knew what was wrong so she could actually do something to help, but she had the solve at least and that would hopefully help at a little.
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Post by Mister Stewart on Jun 22, 2011 23:30:13 GMT -8
Through the sound of the rain and the dizziness that clouded his mind, Michael clung to Ashlin - clung to her voice, her presence. He felt that he could trust her, that he had...well, had a friend in her, and that made her safe. He needed safe right now.
As Mister Stewart watched them proceed, he shook his head a little sadly...perhaps a little hurt that he couldn't offer the comfort the boy needed. He wheeled over towards the window, staring out at the rain, deeply disquieted...and thinking over how he himself didn't feel safe right now.
Around his own son.
...But Michael was oblivious to any of this. As they crossed the dining hall towards his door, he clung to Ashlin like a lifeline, occasionally opening his eyes wide to dart them about. He wanted to calm down - needed to - but all he could see were...mistakes. A vase that was out of place. A curtain that needed cleaning. A place setting that was crooked.
His lips moved in a list of tasks again - hardly audible, hoarse, low.
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Post by Ashlin Thomas on Jun 22, 2011 23:49:45 GMT -8
Frowning at his horse muttering (he definitely needed some tea she decided) she Shh-ed at him as soothingly as she could. "Almost there." She knew she hadn't known Michael that long but she felt she had enough of a grasp on his character to know that the clinging wasn't like him. Wasn't this the same man who had frozen up when she'd tried to get paint out of his hair? There would be time to worry about that later though, and maybe it wasn't that strange, people did tend to like to be comforted when they were sick didn't they?
When they finally made it to Michael's door Ash stared at it for a moment. It had an electronic sort of lock that confused her. This was his room wasn't it? Why would he need a lock on the outside? She pushed the thought away though, more concerned with getting Michael inside.
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