Sep 19, 2019 12:19 AM
some herbs go to hell
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–Dorothy is definitely not standing behind him anymore.

He's bleeding all over the carpet when he slides out of the wheelchair, and yet the first words out of his mouth are –

"She needs help – "

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"You need help – you idiot –"

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"There's a fee for medical services," the demon says, with a flicker of a smile, "but I can act on my own authority, gratis," and he scoops Kyou up bodily, with no apparent effort despite their relative sizes.

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What!

"Wait–"

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She doesn't trust him.

...she'll make sure he takes it out of her instead, when one of them has to pay for this.

"I can wait my turn. You're going to bleed out."

(If he's in a state to make her take help.)

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The demon carries Kyou into the bathroom, which is every bit as luxurious as the bedroom of the suite; sits him on the wide edge of a marble tub, one arm crooked behind him for support, and sets about undressing him.

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"...medically necessary."

He doesn't actually stop the demon from undressing him, but he's not helping quite as much as he should.

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The demon does not appear to require his help.

 

When he's entirely nude, he's lowered into a warm bath, where the water seems to support his limbs just a trifle more than it ought.

His blood spreads out, staining the water pink.

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...okay. Maybe he can...relax, a little.

The warm water flushing out his wounds burns, but it's a relief – he shudders and sighs and lets his head float back, shuts his eyes to keep the room from spinning. He'll be concerned about the rest in just a minute.

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"I can't actually fix you, you understand," says the demon, who seems to have settled in comfortably, perched on the edge of the tub. "The union would have my head. But if you die, you'll wake up the next morning, and there's worse ways than bleeding out in a bath. The ancient Romans were fond of it."

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"What– "

He starts struggling to sit upright.

"No – I can't leave her alone –"

His head swims and his limbs go weak and when he tries to stand up everything goes a little – vague – and then he's lying back in the bath again.

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"I'd offer to watch out for her, but somehow I imagine you might not find that terribly reassuring."

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"No."

He still can't quite manage to sit up –

"She doesn't care anymore – she could keep herself safe but she won't, not if I don't –"

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"Ah, yes. Your friend, she sold her soul, n'est ce pas? Or," his fingers skim over Kyou's breastbone, "all of it which was hers to sell."

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–what.

He shudders at the touch, twitches in the water.

"What – do you mean."

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"Oh, hadn't she told you? Pardonne-moi, I would not dream of putting myself in the middle of that conversation."

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"No – wait, I need to know, if it was...if there's more I need to get back, I..."

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"...ah. That's it, is it?"

He strokes Kyou's chest again, just the lightest possible touch of fingers.

"Pardonne-moi, mon petitou. I have said already too much. You must allow me to keep a few tricks of the trade."

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"No – please –"

The water is very red, and his eyes just won't seem to stay focused, but–

"Is it at least safe, please..."

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"Ah, mon petitou."

He's stroking him, rhythmic and so gentle, as the senses slip away.

"Have you not learned this lesson yet? Here, nothing is safe."

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He dies trying and failing to form more words – a plea, a curse, anything.

Maybe he just doesn't have the practice.

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The demon smooths out his suit, delicately.

When he comes out to the bedroom, there's blood on his hands.

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She manages to pick her head up off the side of the chair she's slumped against. She's between the worst of the cramps, at least.

She looks between the blood and his face, watches the doorway behind him, as if he's going to be followed out.

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"I won't insult you by offering my help."

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"...what did you do."

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