OPEN

[cruelyethuman]

CHARACTERS: The Darkling and you
LOCATION: around the station
DATE: all through december (personal toplevels can be added if you want)
CONTENT: Darkling being the Darkling in the dark
WARNINGS: none yet

Return to the station infirmary

[The return never stops being jarring, the subtle bump as the crew lands on the deck. The eyes of those who've done this several times are dark, as the injured are carried off to the infirmary for help and the Darkling slips away in the confusion.

After picking a rather lovely bouquet of blue flowers, he heads to the infirmary himself, still ignoring the blood slipping slowly down the side of his face from the dream-rock trying to crack his skull open in Kilnan, as he places them on the table next to Alina's bed.

The words that he wants to say, dries up in the face of her injury. Of her stupid, selfless sacrifice, and he leaves her bedside cloaked in shadows. They drop as he nears the doors, wiping his arm across his forehead to clear the blood.

The day after returning Infirmary (for Alina Starkov)

[Newly showered and dressed in loose clothes from the pile of things in the back room, the Darkling walks towards the bed. His hands clasped behind his back as he watches Alina on the pale, crisp sheets. Looking smaller than ever, with her hair fanning out around her face.

The consequences of her actions, the offer so easily made to the inhuman orb and how ineffectively he had been able to shield her from it.]

Alina?

December The Simulation Room [Butter Churning!]

[The cottage in the woods, is lit with only the light of a blazing fire and the Darkling sits on a stool in the only room in it. Bundles of herbs drying from strings hanging from the rafters, and there's a pot of what might be tea brewing on the table by his elbow.

The wooden barrel in front of him rattles as he works the plunger up and down in a pattern only he knows. Staring off in to the flickering flames in this simulation of his old home, lost in thoughts.

About the missions. About the station. The too-raw emotions that every new mission brings him, and the time it takes to lock them all away, elongating and the fear that realization brings.

December The Kitchen

[With nothing else to occupy his days, the Darkling takes to the kitchen and starts trying to prepare traditional Ravkan winter foods.

He can be found making pickled herring, in a variety of flavours, and he will make rice pudding, served with butter and cinnamon sugar. He would welcome any help, as electric stoves are confusing and infuriating.]

December Training Room / sunlight room

[Most mornings, the Darkling will be in the training room, working out or practising hand to hand combat.

Dressed down to a simple shirt, dark pants and his ever-present leather gloves, he will welcome any and all who might want to spar or practice the noble art of sword fighting.

Late afternoons, will have him running laps in the Sunlight room or simply sitting under a tree, relishing the warmth on his face and the tranquillity that can only be found in the sun. Even if it is a fake one, and Jim has already warned him about the additive properties of spending too much time relying on this sun.]

Comments

[flickerandfade]

I'm so glad to have your confidence.

[ Megatron seems unphased by this assessment. He cleans away the last of the blood and leans forward, a small light in hand, to get a better look now that wound is cleaned. ]

I also have approximately eight centuries of experience in medical practice and emergency medicine with my own species.

[ Seeing that the wound is mostly superficial to all appearances (McCoy had said head wound tend to bleed more than they ought), Megatron presses a sterile pad against the wound and then begins to wrap a bandage around the Darkling's head with deft movements. ]

Now sit still while I run a scan. A few minutes more and you'll be a free sapient.

[ Megatron picks up one of the medical scanners and begins adjusting a few settings as he prepares to get a quick look inside the Darkling's head. ]

Any blurred vision, feelings of disorientation, drowsiness, vertigo, or anything of the sort?

[cruelyethuman]

You should be. I really don't hand it out all that often.

[The thing pointed at his head, makes the Darkling sit -very- still, as he pulls the black leather gloves off.]

Does your species bleed all that often?

[Had he read something about war. On the network, where everyone seemed so willing to lay out all of their lives and their pasts. Letting the station know them in ways the Darkling doesn't, playing with their hand cards up.]

Drowsiness and I'm a little dizzy. Nothing that will not fade in time, I assume.

[flickerandfade]

I'm flattered, truly.

[ This is authentic voice, expressing appreciation. Honestly. ]

More than one would think, especially with the war over.

[ He adds with an annoyed grunt, looks down at his scanner. ]

You have a mild concussion. I suggest you get some rest, avoid taxing mental and physical activity for a few days, and try to avoid any further blows to the head.

[cruelyethuman]

Good.

[Grunting at him aside, the Darkling is going to lean over to try and get a look at the scanner.]

I already told you that much. What else does it say?

[flickerandfade]

[ Megatron helpfully holds the scanner out to show the Darkling the readout. ]

That you are slightly dehydrated. Drink more fluids and rest.

[cruelyethuman]

[The readout tells him nothing. Less than nothing, it's all just glowing numbers and indecipherable graphs, but he nods.]

I will keep that in mind. [And after a beat] Thank you.

[flickerandfade]

Please do.

[ He tilts his head into a slight nod. ]

You are welcome. You're free to leave now.

[cruelyethuman]

[With one last lingering look at the- person? that stands before him, the Darkling jumps down from the medical cot and heads away with a slight nod.

Like calls to like

But whoever this might be, there was no reason to think he should call to him. Strange.]