[SEMI-OPEN] December Catchall

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i.) Ritterlichkeit und das Schwert : Training Room

[With Sam currently out of commission, Hermann does not have it within him to stop the momentum of his sword training. He finds it paramount to continue practicing all he has learned so far. Even if it is basic sword strikes against a dummy.

Despite the physical daunting tasks, he continues to press on. Out of breath. Sweating. As long as Hermann can perfect at least one technique, he is making progress.
It’s not until he attempts at another forward strike that he accidentally trips and falls right on his face.]

…Gott verdammt!

ii.) Kuchen für Zwei : Kitchen

[Since the Braccia mission, Hermann had taken to baking as a new hobby. It started very small, at first, experimenting with a simple batch of cookies now evolving into more complex pastry recipes.
Today was no different as he carefully put the final touches on his carrot cake. He’s no idea how it tastes or how others might think of it. It’d be an awful shame if it went to waste.

He can’t help but look at his final creation, scratching underneath his chin out of nervousness. If you happen to be in talking proximity, he will most likely solicit your opinion:]

Please, be honest. Would you eat this?

iii.) Moon’s Reaching Stars: Laboratory


[Hermann promised himself that it won’t another late night. And yet he’s succumbed to listening to the quiet hums of the station as he continues to work at his station. In all fairness, this is all for the sake of future missions and so the timing on his workload is very sensitive. Hermann can’t waste even a second to back down on his current line of calculations.

A small yawn escapes him with his eyes also starting to feel bleary, yet he can’t help but shake the slight pain he feels in the back of his head.

Maybe if he tries resting his head on top of his workstation then…]

iv.) Fall Silent into the Night: Infirmary: [ CLOSED to Close CR - Dec 15-31st ]

[Another migraine. This time it’s more hideous than Hermann’s previous ones. Like a knife jammed deep into his cortex, it feels as though no amount of drugs can ease the pain. All Hermann can remember is trying to walk down the halls in one moment and then hearing young Shinjiro’s voice call out for him as everything soon turned black.

He’s in pain. And he is exhausted.

Minutes become hours as hours soon turn into days and then, eventually, weeks…

Had it been Christmas already? He can’t tell. Eyes far too heavy and sedated to be doing anything.

When Hermann finally cracks an eye open, he is met with a wave of nausea like no other. No matter how much he tries, there is no way for him to get out of bed.

Tired, sick, and alone.

Once more, Hermann closes his eyes, hoping that he will find some light at the end of this dreary tunnel.]

Comments

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[Hermann’s body is in no state to be coordinating anything at the moment. Let alone trying to shove two pills and water into his mouth. But he does so anyway, swallowing the pills dry while reaching for the glass for two measly sips. Everything in his stomach stirs once more. It’s a rather delicate thing for Hermann. In most cases, having a heating pad around is common for his nighttime routine. That’s about the closest thing he can get to a belly rub and a warm cuddle.

His towel slips lopsidedly on his head, not even bothering to fix it. All that matters is finding a comfortable position for him to rest in. By the time Hermann can process Newton telling him to move over, he can already feel the other man’s body climbing into the bed.

Typically, this is the part where Hermann opens his mouth and says something to Newton. But he doesn’t. The warmth is already overwhelming. Instead, Hermann lets out another throaty whine as he unbuttons the rest of his nightshirt.]

What are—What are you doing…?

[groupiedrifter]

[Just don't barf on him, Herm, he's gone a long time without something gross on his shirt. He reddens as he slots himself next to Hermann, a little embarrassed at how ridiculous he probably looks and sounds right now.]

Trying to ease some drift-influenced symptoms. That's what Rals said, right? Proximity yields results? I mean, I felt like it helped when you were around and I was having bad drift effects.

[The effects he never mentioned before. Yeah. He clears his throat, still feeling a little stiff in the way he lays there, tensing for the moment Hermann gains enough strength to make executive choices and shove him off the edge of the bed.]

If you want me to leave, that's cool. I just thought — this might help.

[If he's sick from drift effects, anyway, and it's not some space flu.

Then he'll just be making a fool of himself, huh?]

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Newton…

[The skin to skin proximity lulls the feverish sweat under his collarbone. Hermann can feel the cool ventilation nip at his toes. A clear sign he should pull the covers over his torso. Whatever Newton is expecting Hermann to do to shove him away is quelled, with Hermann scooting closer so he can feel their shared body warmth.

He lays a hand on his stomach. Much like many times prior, Hermann has learned to nurse himself out of discomfort; going so far as to give himself stomach rubs to ease the pain.]

…I believe this is perhaps the worst you’ve seen me.

[He lets out another pained moan.]

Not before I was getting sick all over the walls of a previous mission locale.

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[Newt's not sure where anything stands right now. He thinks, based on careful scientific observation and data collection (AKA common sense) that Hermann doesn't hate him or wants nothing to do with him anymore; he didn't turn him away completely, back when Newt had his little freak-out. But where do they go from here? He's mortified at the thought that Hermann might see anything Newt does now as something with 'romantic' insidiousness. Because, like. Newt just wants Hermann around. If nothing ever came of how he felt, he'd still be okay with it, right? Dealing with unresolved feelings that would never have fruition, sure, but that's better than a lot of how his relationships in life have gone.

Now he's cuddled up next to him on a hospital bed.

Life's weird like that.]

I don't know. There was that one incident with the food poisoning back in the PPDC, remember? [He pulls the blanket up a little, as if mentally receiving Hermann's quiet internal commentary on covers.] Or that time you got seasick while we were surveying the ocean post-Kaiju attack for organic samples and busted Jaeger parts. You looked like a ghost from the 1800's.

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Mmngh yes…

[He extends a hand to grab the safety rail of the bed. As if it were his one lifeline to grip on.]

Hard to forget such a — [He winces and sucks in a breath.] Miserable trek! Augh!

[No matter how much he writhes in pain, Hermann is helpless to the devices of whatever is going on inside his brain.]

Yet here we are again with another bloody tummy ache…!

[Yes. He called it a tummy ache. Sometimes a drift bleed leads you to drop terms akin to your immature lab partner.]

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See, I always knew you were a sensitive soul. The soul's connected to the stomach, right?

[C'mon, you were wide open for a teasing comment.]

You're gonna be alright, though. It's just stuff catching up with you, right? You're a little overtaxed. Happens to the best of us. [He quiets, laying there and staring over the top of Hermann's sweaty head, toward the curtain.] I'm sure I didn't exactly help matters with my issues, either.

[Y'know. Having severe and potentially life-threatening medical issues in the hallway.

No biggy.]

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[He lets out an audible whine.

As much as he wants to, Hermann bites his tongue about Newton not being open about the drift bleed sooner. He’s already berated him on it before. It’s useless to trudge up any lingering annoyance he’s felt so far about it.]

I don’t know what “stuff” you are referring but it is hitting me harder than a right hook from an Mk-III Jaeger!

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[He sighs, frustrated. At himself, though.]

The 'stuff' I'm referring to is me getting bad enough to get myself put in the hospital. And now you're in the hospital. And I feel like maybe there's a correlation and part of this is all my fault. So there.

[And honestly, feelin' like shit about it. Feelin' like shit about a lot of things, so he's really got existing as a failure down to a T.]

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[There is a pregnant pause. In between Newton’s words and Hermann trying to let the medication settle down into his system, he can feel the stress bite at the back of his head. Hermann turns to his side with his back facing Newton. He finds a cool spot on his pillow to burrow his cheek against.]

Newton, I’m going back to bed now.

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[Newt stiffens nervously again, then bites his lip.]

... Yeah. That's a good idea.

I'll — stick around 'til you're asleep, if you want.

[Newt doesn't often sound unsure of himself. Rare instances like these, though, leaves room for a tone that is flimsy, quieter than usual. He pulls his hands away and rolls so that his back runs along Hermann's — less direct, but tactile enough, even as his arms hang off the edge of the bed.]

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[Hermann remains quiet. There is a tense stiffness building on his shoulder blades remaining in one place. He can’t put his finger on it as he feels a particular frigidness run down his spine. Something that ought to be left to be unsaid.

Tomorrow is Christmas. And Hermann will remain in bed until this illness of his passes. He feigns shutting his eyelids to pretend he is falling back asleep. Perhaps if he is lucky, he can stomach his tea and broth tomorrow without seeing it inside of a rubbish bin again.

That’ll make for a lovely gift.]

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[Newt's quiet for a moment, the tension in Hermann's back leaving a sinking feeling in his stomach: guilt, and something else.

And in that terrible moment, he feels kind of — heartbroken.

What an idiot he is. Egg on his face, right? The chasm's between them is back and bigger now thanks to him, and he thinks maybe Raleigh's wrong. Maybe he's wrong, and the drift theory is wrong, and him being this close only hurts instead of helps. It's probably torture. What is he even doing here?

He quietly sits up, and the small mattress dips then rises as the space next to Hermann is empty once again. Instead of lingering and making things worse, he opts to just leave the iguana McCoy had gifted him in his place. It's childish, but sometimes Hermann appreciates childish things, right?

Without so much as another sound, save for his footfalls, he moves to leave the infirmary.]