[ One way or another, Markus will sing Tears for Fears for Aranea someday.
She watches him fumble with the juicebox, not once offering to help, up until she reaches over to effectively puncture the thin foil layer with the sharper edge of the straw for him. The silence is never awkward to Aranea, who is a brusque individual by nature, holding herself just a bit aloft, just a bit adjacent to. But if he wants to talk, or feels the need to, she'll join in. It distracts from the writhing pain in her thigh. ]
It's not magic or anything. It's just good for you. [ She gives a cursory glance to the bandages wound around his torso. ] What happened to you?
He stills his movements when she reaches over, like only an android can, and watches distractedly at she pierces the foil with the straw in an effort that makes it look so easy. (It is easy, Markus.) Now ready to drink, the man doesn’t seem to be bringing it to his lips just yet — as if with one task completed, it’ll take another insurmountable effort to follow through.
Or maybe he just wants to answer her question first.]
I was shot. By one of the soldiers, trying to… save families.
[ Noctis had scraped her off the sidewalk when she was barely better than a pile of meat (not unlike the 9/10ths of body mass one may find in The Crystal when the chocobros are frog-ed). Aranea knows how to fall to minimise damage, which had saved her being hurt worse, but the scrapes and bruises and clear shadows of exhaustion under her eyes paint a very different picture than her stubbornness and her resilient voice otherwise implies. ]
You should've seen me a few days ago, this bone [ gestures down to her thigh, mercifully hidden under an askew blanket ] was poking right out. It was pretty cool.
Shot and fell out of a window, very much not like him.]
Aranea...
[He's lost all interest in his juice now, clutching it close but looking at her as if broken bone might still be sticking out of her leg.]
That isn't... cool. That's- that's awful.
[She's more stubborn than he is, talking about such a terrible injury like it's nothing. She must have either a heart of steel, is fazed by very little, or is putting on a brave face. He wonders which, but hasn't the keen focus and observant eyes to puzzle it out today.]
Are they still giving you something for the pain? [A second of silence. Two. Then Markus holds out his juice and offers it to her.] You need this more.
I asked for half. I wanna stay awake if there's news.
[ Regarding pain meds. She doesn't mention that she decided to ration her allotment of medication after seeing how some other people - too young, or too old - in far worse condition than her.
When he holds out his box, Aranea lifts up her own to remind him that exists, looking faintly amused among the her peaked pallor. ]
[Only half? With an injury like what’s she described? He doesn’t think that’s a wise decision to make, despite the fact that — forever the hypocrite when it comes to his health versus others — he would’ve asked for exactly the same if given the choice.
Dazed as he is, he obviously wasn’t given the choice. He seems to belatedly realize that she has her own juice box, and slowly retracts his arm.]
…fine, but—
[Ah, he had a question in there somewhere. A moment and it rubberbands back to him:]
[ There's something to her voice - not quite reluctance, not quite lingering pain medication leaving her fuzzy, but a faint strain. Something. Aranea isn't sure how she feels about any of it.
At least Noctis doesn't fuss, doesn't fret (too much). ]
Back home, we weren't exactly on the same side, but he dropped everything to make sure I didn't end up mashed paste in some UNA's boots.
[Eyes widen in clear recognition, surprise quite evident when he makes no effort to school it.]
Noctis… he’s my friend. He—
[It’s hard to articulate, but the revelation that Aranea hails from the same world seems to hold some weight, and Markus is trying to figure out how to wield it.]
He’s the one who removed the bullet in me. He’s a good person, taking on too much.
[ Aranea leans forward suddenly to get a better look at where Markus injured (uh, rude!) and almost crushes her own juicebox in the process. It's only almost because she's still quite weak, and can scarcely get a tight enough grip to be effective. Some orange-tinted liquid dribbles out of the straw. That's all. ]
He just operated on you in the middle of battle?
[ Finally, someone comes by to admonish Aranea for being half out of bed. Pardon her a moment, Markus. ]
[These two aren’t at their most graceful, so it’s hard to judge them, really. When Aranea leans forward, Markus doesn’t seem to care, and a hand presses against his lower side, indicating where the bullet pierced through.]
No. I was brought here by—
[Oh, someone’s dropping by to tell her to stay in bed, and Markus’ sentence trails off accordingly, frowning.]
[ It takes considerable manuevering to get her back into place. Yes, the volunteer does have to help her. By, uh, lifting up her leg because she certainly can't do it herself by now.
By the time she's re-situated, Aranea looks a bit more miserable. ]
[The both of them, miserable and a little pathetic-looking, but at least misery likes its company. Markus would rather spend these passing minutes with a familiar face than to be met with only the chaos and swirling noise of a harried safehouse once more.]
Connor. [Connor, and his worried look, the panicked anxiety that Markus had burdened him with, being so injured.] Someone from my world.
[Well. It’s more (much more) complicated than that, but in a pinch, it’s a fair summation.]
[ Flopping flat on her back, Aranea blinks up at him with (admittedly tired) interest. There's a faint glint of something in his tone - something she can suss out, heard before, never had in her own voice - and her mouth curls up in a faint grin. A sluggish thing, but not disingenuous. Cute.
And it's probably for the best, to keep her from embarrassing herself later, hitting on Markus via anatomically inappropriate compliments. ]
's nice you had so many people looking out for you.
Right... we've always been able to look after each other since we arrived here. We…
[Aranea looks like she has the right idea, lying down, resting. Despite his stubborn nature, his want to wander around and help where he can, it’s starting to seem more and more like a… viable option. He shifts a little, cot springs squeaking.]
It’s expected for us to help each other. I imagine it’s the same with anyone from your world.
[ Her brow creases a little, but it's more to do with the pain than the subject matter. ]
The guys... They've got their own shit to deal with.
[ Noctis, obviously. He's still figuring himself out. His retainers are no less pathless, held together only by him. There's also a certain chancellor - her employer, once - but. Least said about that, the better. Ardyn's antagonism is given with both hands open and fangs bared, an uncomfortable dichotomy, and she's in no hurry to announce their previous professional relationship.
A huff, to distract. ]
Honestly, they're annoying. Always some drama, way up there. [ Up, in the lofty place of kings and gods. Not somewhere she goes or wants to go. ] They missed everything falling apart down below...
[ Something Markus may have noticed that Aranea did not: a helpful medic stopping by and giving her a quick injection of morphine - at the bicep, in, out. It's telegraphed by her words slowing just a little, a skein of honesty woven through bare and plain words, the pained lines smoothing themselves out from her face.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
She watches him fumble with the juicebox, not once offering to help, up until she reaches over to effectively puncture the thin foil layer with the sharper edge of the straw for him. The silence is never awkward to Aranea, who is a brusque individual by nature, holding herself just a bit aloft, just a bit adjacent to. But if he wants to talk, or feels the need to, she'll join in. It distracts from the writhing pain in her thigh. ]
It's not magic or anything. It's just good for you. [ She gives a cursory glance to the bandages wound around his torso. ] What happened to you?
no subject
He stills his movements when she reaches over, like only an android can, and watches distractedly at she pierces the foil with the straw in an effort that makes it look so easy. (It is easy, Markus.) Now ready to drink, the man doesn’t seem to be bringing it to his lips just yet — as if with one task completed, it’ll take another insurmountable effort to follow through.
Or maybe he just wants to answer her question first.]
I was shot. By one of the soldiers, trying to… save families.
[A concise statement, but not untrue.]
What happened to you?
no subject
... [ Well. ]
And fell out a sixth floor window.
[ Noctis had scraped her off the sidewalk when she was barely better than a pile of meat (not unlike the 9/10ths of body mass one may find in The Crystal when the chocobros are frog-ed). Aranea knows how to fall to minimise damage, which had saved her being hurt worse, but the scrapes and bruises and clear shadows of exhaustion under her eyes paint a very different picture than her stubbornness and her resilient voice otherwise implies. ]
You should've seen me a few days ago, this bone [ gestures down to her thigh, mercifully hidden under an askew blanket ] was poking right out. It was pretty cool.
[ How is that the word you want to use, Aranea?
Also, at the time, she hated it. ]
no subject
Shot and fell out of a window, very much not like him.]
Aranea...
[He's lost all interest in his juice now, clutching it close but looking at her as if broken bone might still be sticking out of her leg.]
That isn't... cool. That's- that's awful.
[She's more stubborn than he is, talking about such a terrible injury like it's nothing. She must have either a heart of steel, is fazed by very little, or is putting on a brave face. He wonders which, but hasn't the keen focus and observant eyes to puzzle it out today.]
Are they still giving you something for the pain? [A second of silence. Two. Then Markus holds out his juice and offers it to her.] You need this more.
no subject
[ Regarding pain meds. She doesn't mention that she decided to ration her allotment of medication after seeing how some other people - too young, or too old - in far worse condition than her.
When he holds out his box, Aranea lifts up her own to remind him that exists, looking faintly amused among the her peaked pallor. ]
Keep drinkin'. You need it.
no subject
Dazed as he is, he obviously wasn’t given the choice. He seems to belatedly realize that she has her own juice box, and slowly retracts his arm.]
…fine, but—
[Ah, he had a question in there somewhere. A moment and it rubberbands back to him:]
Who helped you get back here?
no subject
[ There's something to her voice - not quite reluctance, not quite lingering pain medication leaving her fuzzy, but a faint strain. Something. Aranea isn't sure how she feels about any of it.
At least Noctis doesn't fuss, doesn't fret (too much). ]
Back home, we weren't exactly on the same side, but he dropped everything to make sure I didn't end up mashed paste in some UNA's boots.
[ She's growing to respect the kid. ]
no subject
Noctis… he’s my friend. He—
[It’s hard to articulate, but the revelation that Aranea hails from the same world seems to hold some weight, and Markus is trying to figure out how to wield it.]
He’s the one who removed the bullet in me. He’s a good person, taking on too much.
no subject
[ Aranea leans forward suddenly to get a better look at where Markus injured (uh, rude!) and almost crushes her own juicebox in the process. It's only almost because she's still quite weak, and can scarcely get a tight enough grip to be effective. Some orange-tinted liquid dribbles out of the straw. That's all. ]
He just operated on you in the middle of battle?
[ Finally, someone comes by to admonish Aranea for being half out of bed. Pardon her a moment, Markus. ]
no subject
No. I was brought here by—
[Oh, someone’s dropping by to tell her to stay in bed, and Markus’ sentence trails off accordingly, frowning.]
no subject
By the time she's re-situated, Aranea looks a bit more miserable. ]
By?
no subject
Connor. [Connor, and his worried look, the panicked anxiety that Markus had burdened him with, being so injured.] Someone from my world.
[Well. It’s more (much more) complicated than that, but in a pinch, it’s a fair summation.]
no subject
And it's probably for the best, to keep her from embarrassing herself later, hitting on Markus via anatomically inappropriate compliments. ]
's nice you had so many people looking out for you.
this thread got surprise sad now wow
[Aranea looks like she has the right idea, lying down, resting. Despite his stubborn nature, his want to wander around and help where he can, it’s starting to seem more and more like a… viable option. He shifts a little, cot springs squeaking.]
It’s expected for us to help each other. I imagine it’s the same with anyone from your world.
cry, markus
[ Her brow creases a little, but it's more to do with the pain than the subject matter. ]
The guys... They've got their own shit to deal with.
[ Noctis, obviously. He's still figuring himself out. His retainers are no less pathless, held together only by him. There's also a certain chancellor - her employer, once - but. Least said about that, the better. Ardyn's antagonism is given with both hands open and fangs bared, an uncomfortable dichotomy, and she's in no hurry to announce their previous professional relationship.
A huff, to distract. ]
Honestly, they're annoying. Always some drama, way up there. [ Up, in the lofty place of kings and gods. Not somewhere she goes or wants to go. ] They missed everything falling apart down below...
[ Something Markus may have noticed that Aranea did not: a helpful medic stopping by and giving her a quick injection of morphine - at the bicep, in, out. It's telegraphed by her words slowing just a little, a skein of honesty woven through bare and plain words, the pained lines smoothing themselves out from her face.
She tries to stifle a yawn, and can't. ]