[ he'll dig out the bandages and clips from his pocket, which have been wrapped up neatly for cross contamination reasons and hold it out to pride. ]
I'm sure you can help yourself to supplies whenever but since I have them with me, I figure I could hand them over nevertheless. You may not be able to dress the wound given the crown but you can stop it from getting over the rest of your face.
[ what doctor doesn't follow through with an injury? he feels bad that he can't do more but—it's something. though perhaps law's words sound distant to pride given a particular memory that plays out as law tries to cover up his kindness.
[ this week is, in fact, very bad and law would apologize for the memory that they received if he had realized what memory that they got...
but hey! sometimes...it's....like that. however, given how the conversation had been prior to the memory, law is actually more concerned than normal. ]
I mentioned that disease before that caused the destruction of my country, didn't I? Even though I was the sole survivor of it, it didn't mean I wasn't sick myself.
[ he still isn't sure what all pride saw but he can wager that they saw how his skin was white and blotchy. ]
Three years and two months was all the time I had left to live but someone decided to spend the last 6 months of that time trying to find a doctor who would treat me.
it has been so long and even though he didn't experience the memory again he remembered the words they called him. a white monster. a sign of death... ]
I eventually gained a power that allowed me to remove the disease from my body. [ he'll smirk. ] I couldn't find a doctor who would treat me so I became one.
[ except apparently sleeping around or kissing anyone other than steven but it's fine. totally fine?? don't look at me mods i don't know what i'm doing. ]
[ smooches. no worries!!! i'll always forgive you all as that sounds daunting and horrifying. ]
I know this sounds ridiculous, but is there something else here with us? The noises that happen on Thursday nights have come up a few times in conversation.
This place isn't built for ease. [he starts - but he gets interrupted by a memory, dragging law right into it.
you are a child. you don't know how old. maybe six. maybe eight.
you run down the street, gasping for air as the snow falls thick around you. you're rail thin, you're starving, and you're more exhausted than you could possibly express, but you run, because you have no other choice. it's dark, but you can see just fine. you've always been able to see in the dark.
a man hollers behind you, shouting something about his sheep, and you ignore it as you turn a corner. you're leaving a pretty sizeable blood trail behind you from where this man put a pitchfork through your side. you'd thought it was safe to curl up there for the night, among the sheep, where it's warm, but this man had thought otherwise.
all you can smell is iron.
there's a tavern in front of you, but you can't read, so it doesn't matter what the name is. what's important is there are barrels here that you can hide in, so you do. you climb into one, and you settle down against the wood, covering your mouth with your hand to catch the whimpers trying to escape.
men and women shout and laugh and cheer from inside the tavern, singing and enjoying themselves next to the fire, and you stay here, quiet, as the man with the pitchfork runs by. you hear him for a long time, running down the cobblestone road. you've always been able to hear really well, too. but even with that advantage, you're scared. you're scared because you're dizzy, and you know that if you're caught, the consequences won't be pretty.
so for the first time in a long time, you pray. please. please, you know you're not like the others, but please, whatever is listening - you just want to live through the night.
[ it's a nasty memory to put it frankly. there's nothing about this memory that he likes and there are too many parts of it that he can relate to. admittedly is a different kind pain but one that anyone who has been on the run with the world after them knows...
...and honestly? law isn't entirely sure if he wants to say anything in return. ...should he? it was fair that the avatars know about him but— ]
I didn't realize you were also affected by the same things as us.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[they sound. SO EXASPERATED.]
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No, not really.
[ he'll dig out the bandages and clips from his pocket, which have been wrapped up neatly for cross contamination reasons and hold it out to pride. ]
I'm sure you can help yourself to supplies whenever but since I have them with me, I figure I could hand them over nevertheless. You may not be able to dress the wound given the crown but you can stop it from getting over the rest of your face.
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... Thanks. [he guesses. it's nice or whatever probably.]
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[ what doctor doesn't follow through with an injury? he feels bad that he can't do more but—it's something. though perhaps law's words sound distant to pride given a particular memory that plays out as law tries to cover up his kindness.
:) ]
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they stagger, just slightly. and then pull their robes close, looking up at law. bright gold eyes stare at him from the dark.]
... What.
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but hey! sometimes...it's....like that. however, given how the conversation had been prior to the memory, law is actually more concerned than normal. ]
What is it?
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[they say, roughly.] People refusing to help because of where you were from. I think.
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... ]
I mentioned that disease before that caused the destruction of my country, didn't I? Even though I was the sole survivor of it, it didn't mean I wasn't sick myself.
[ he still isn't sure what all pride saw but he can wager that they saw how his skin was white and blotchy. ]
Three years and two months was all the time I had left to live but someone decided to spend the last 6 months of that time trying to find a doctor who would treat me.
[ which did not go well as pride could see..... ]
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They wouldn't treat you because of who you were. [he sounds... agitated.] You obviously lived.
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it has been so long and even though he didn't experience the memory again he remembered the words they called him. a white monster. a sign of death... ]
I eventually gained a power that allowed me to remove the disease from my body. [ he'll smirk. ] I couldn't find a doctor who would treat me so I became one.
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Hm. That's one way to do it. [pride respects the hustle.] Your luck evened out.
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Mostly; I'm here, aren't I? I still need something.
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[ except apparently sleeping around or kissing anyone other than steven but it's fine. totally fine?? don't look at me mods i don't know what i'm doing. ]
Is there a reason why you keep asking?
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Didn't think I asked that often. I just wonder what your limits are.
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...am I supposed to have a limit?
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Obviously not.
[he folds his arms.]
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I know this sounds ridiculous, but is there something else here with us? The noises that happen on Thursday nights have come up a few times in conversation.
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I've heard the noises mentioned, but I don't know what you're talking about. I've never heard them.
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Have any of the others heard it?
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You know hearing that doesn't exactly put my mind at ease.
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you are a child. you don't know how old. maybe six. maybe eight.
you run down the street, gasping for air as the snow falls thick around you. you're rail thin, you're starving, and you're more exhausted than you could possibly express, but you run, because you have no other choice. it's dark, but you can see just fine. you've always been able to see in the dark.
a man hollers behind you, shouting something about his sheep, and you ignore it as you turn a corner. you're leaving a pretty sizeable blood trail behind you from where this man put a pitchfork through your side. you'd thought it was safe to curl up there for the night, among the sheep, where it's warm, but this man had thought otherwise.
all you can smell is iron.
there's a tavern in front of you, but you can't read, so it doesn't matter what the name is. what's important is there are barrels here that you can hide in, so you do. you climb into one, and you settle down against the wood, covering your mouth with your hand to catch the whimpers trying to escape.
men and women shout and laugh and cheer from inside the tavern, singing and enjoying themselves next to the fire, and you stay here, quiet, as the man with the pitchfork runs by. you hear him for a long time, running down the cobblestone road. you've always been able to hear really well, too. but even with that advantage, you're scared. you're scared because you're dizzy, and you know that if you're caught, the consequences won't be pretty.
so for the first time in a long time, you pray. please. please, you know you're not like the others, but please, whatever is listening - you just want to live through the night.
nobody is listening, though. nobody ever is.]
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...and honestly? law isn't entirely sure if he wants to say anything in return. ...should he? it was fair that the avatars know about him but— ]
I didn't realize you were also affected by the same things as us.
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... Not always. Depends.
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