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Who:

whats_a_sneeze
What: Ain't no rest for the wicked
When: November 4th
Where: Some....where in the village
Summary: Mithos returns from the dead (nothing new here). Sayo finds him and offers her help - he couldn't hide forever. ...But what to do with him now?
Rating: No more than PG

[It’s déjà vu, waking up sprawled out on his side with his last recollection being one of dying. Even the white cotton New Feather pants are the same, and the underlying anger that rises up quickly once the sluggishness of suddenly coming to in very different circumstances than the ones left behind passes. Mithos pushes himself up with his hands. Gingerly, his fingers brush over a newly formed scar on his torso – one of several courtesy of Yuan. His expression darkens in the way that only his grudge can cause. The next time he sees that miserable traitor, he owes him. Big time.

He stands.

Or rather, he tries to, but the command gets lost somewhere on the way to his legs. One readily kicks out; the other refuses. He stares down at it, mind buzzing. He hits one hand across his thigh. Nothing. Not even the pins-and-needles tingle of shaking off numbness. He tries again, striking harder.

It might as well not even be attached to his body. This is where his expression turns to one of blanched panic. Another attempt at standing up, more frantic – the right leg begins going through the motions, but it’s useless without the other. His eyes dart around, trying to figure out where he is. His journal – where’s his journal? He can contact—

It’s sitting right where he left it, at the house. Up a creek without a paddle. He has to get out of here; he can’t stay out in the open where anyone could happen upon him like this. ...He still has three good limbs, and he’s nothing if not persistent. If he can support his weight on his one functioning knee, and drag himself with his arms...]

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Alright; let's get one! [The coldness, it is lost on her. She goes into the open door, toward the racks of clothes, pausing in front of the gloves and scarves set up in the front. But she's mainly interested in these scarves while she's ushering Mithos in steadily. :|]

Oh—what on earth are these for?

[he looks over to see what she's asking about. Almost out of reflex:] ...It keeps your neck warm.

[--Ah. He snaps his mouth shut and turns away again.]

...

[... She takes one of the gray ones and smiles.]

I understand! That makes a lot of sense, actually!

[And then she reaches over and THROTTLES YOU WITH THE SCARF--

... Okay, she just drapes it over around his head before turning back to the rack to get her one as well. She doesn't know it, but she already has five or six of these laying around the house. Sigh. But she's looking very content and rosy-cheeked, as she leafs through the many different jackets hanging up.]

Right, right—you like the color blue, don't you?

...I think you wear it a lot...

[lots of ellipses. ALL OF THE ELLIPSES.]

[...This is surreal. Like watching himself from outside his body. Far, far outside his body. Back to pokerfacing - cold, sharp, terse, anything to keep her at arm's length. He glances over the rack of coats.]

I don't care. [except she's right, he does.]

[The color blue it is. She reaches over, pulling out a regular blue hoodie—Sayo can't fathom how it's strange, for him to be in one. But oh well! She holds it up, nodding.]

This one, then?? It's pretty warm!

[She doesn't want to pull it over his head; she figures he'd want to put it on on his own accord, by himself. So she waits, hopeful, holding it up. You like it enough, right?]

[.....What the heck is that? Strange clothing from other worlds... Even though he said he didn't care, this is not a very impressed look.]

.... Ahm—

[OKAY, going back and getting a nice warm-looking long coat here. It's black and it has buttons! :D]

This one??

[Better. It has fastenings of some sort, at least. He nods curtly.]

[She smiles at that.]

Good! Ah--would you like to sit down and put it on yourself?

[She doesn't want to invade your personal space. Well, more than she already has, anyway. `_`]

[And he turns his glance to the side so he doesn't have to see her smile for longer than a few seconds. All of this is uncomfortable, but maybe not as uncomfortable as it should be...

There's a spare chair waiting nearby; he slowly makes his way over and awkwardly lowers himself onto it. It feels good to rest. But it's frustrating that something as minor as walking should wear him out so much. He starts putting the coat on, mindful of the wings - flashes of phantom pain surface in his mind, just briefly, recalling the instant they'd been torn out. Buttoning up, and done. But he'll stay sitting a moment more, not looking forward to having to struggle back to his feet.]

[She offers him a hand to help him stand. Regardless of his reluctance to accept any help from anyone in general, she'd already told herself she'd offer it when it was possible.]

Is it warm enough, Mithos-san?

[He lifts his hand to hit hers away, but ends up changing his mind at the last second and tentatively taking hold of it instead. Almost immediately, he regrets it - what's wrong with him? With her help, and relying on support from the makeshift walking stick, he rises to his feet. It's less of a struggle, not having to do it all by himself.

...That's a dangerous thought. Try to think of it any other way: it's not accepting help, it's manipulating resources.]

It's suitable. [Standing up, the hem reaches his knees, but the top is fitted. He'll need shoes too, but more importantly something to aid him in walking. His eyes scan the store.]

[Oh! Right! She follows his gaze thoughtfully... He'll have to find a good, regular crutch himself--like she knows what a normal one looks like--but she can definitely find him something for his feet!]

What size is your foot? I can bring you some different shoes to try...

I’ll do it myself. [He already stood up, and he can see a display of footwear nearby. Besides, it will be a lot quicker if he just picks something out. Pangs of distrust still urge him to resist her attempts to help, even though it’s a moot point by now – he already let her worm her way in. ...Right, here we go, staggering over there regardless of anything she says.

He silently pores over the selection for several moments, moving along the aisle as necessary, until he finds a pair of boots he likes. Then...bah, he forgot that holding something would make walking with the stick a lot more difficult – he’d been using both hands. Have a pause as he tries to figure this out.]

Mn, just call if you need me.

[Sayo doesn't move from the spot she sits at; but she's paying careful attention for him calling. As much as she'd love to jump up and fly over to aid him, she's aware of his pride, that he wants to accomplish it on his own. Until then, she'll just tie her scarf thoughtfully.]

[Boots in one hand, he tries to maneuver himself around with the walking stick again. Slowly, carefully, haltingly - step, thud of the stick on the floor, hop forward while dragging the other foot...

He mis-steps. His dead leg folds uselessly beneath his weight.]

[He falls against a shelf and slides down, frantically groping for something to hold onto, anything to keep himself upright. It doesn't work out so well. He ends up in a disarrayed heap on the floor beside the boots he'd dropped, fingers still clinging to the edge of a shelf above his head like that might still help. His knuckles go white, hands trembling in anger. One hand balls into a fist, and he pounds it on the ground next to him. There's plenty of muttered verbal abuse too.]

Worthless...piece of trash! Damn you, filthy traitor...! [Yuan will pay for this. His tab is quickly racking up.]

Edited 2011-11-17 21:26 (UTC)

[Wordlessly, she walks over, picks up the boots between two nimble fingers, and offers him her hand. She's entirely over the dripping anger in his voice; she'd dealt with it firsthand, over and over before, hadn't she? Now, it was just a matter of learning how to help with it.]

We'll stand up and try again, Mithos-san. I know you're defiant enough to rise above your penalty. Aren't you?

Shut up! [he snaps his head up to glare at her in very misdirected rage - he's completely frustrated by his helplessness. It's so disgustingly pathetic. He wants to break things, to crush and twist and smash and destroy.] Of course I am!

Edited 2011-11-20 10:16 (UTC)

Good. [The fear or hesitation she had had months ago isn't present, at the sound of his angry reply. She leaves her hand for him to take, should he want to.] That's good.

[He's silent, but the glare is still there. He wants to hate her for being so patient, so resilient, because...it's the support he needs. Why doesn't she get upset or hurt? She could just turn around and leave... But when had she ever done that? The one running away was always him, because no matter what he did to build distance she always breaks through it.

And even though he said he could rise above the limitations placed on him, he really isn't sure. He's scared. Weak, vulnerable, practically defenseless: not where he wants to be, when nobody can be trusted. When he's different from them. She might not care (which is still so hard to believe), but others...

So much to fear. But she's still there; she hasn't gone anywhere. Finally he takes her offered hand, for the second time already, and lets her help him up.]

Edited 2011-11-20 22:45 (UTC)

[A nod, as she helps guide him back to sit. And then she gives him his shoes, and waits patiently. If there's one thing Sayo is good at, it's having an ungodly amount of time to sit through. Mithos might also notice she's got a real pair of crutches sitting nearby—she'd asked what would be suitable, and managed to get these, even if she's not sure what the heck they are.]

....

[Oh, she just realized how crazy weird this situation is. Give her a sec to be enlightened by the moment.]

[He, on the other hand, hasn't been able to stop thinking about how bizarre this all is, this whole time. Still...underneath the uncertainty and tension there's a small bubble of comfort. He tries not to dwell on it too much, but it isn't going anywhere.

With the boots now on his feet (the left one was frustrating...more like trying to put a shoe on someone else's foot, which is an unsettling thought), he straightens up in his seat. His eyes fall on the crutches, and he looks back up at her.]

...For me? [which is a dumb question, but he can't help it. He is not used to people being this helpful. Or helpful at all.]

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