Broken and Pathetic [Machi/Ral]

[nozomi]

Machi's guards did not like him. One, a big brute of a thing, detested the prisoner to the point of fostering him off on innocent weyrlings just to watch Machi mess up, to see if he'd try to terrify the young thing into reporting him to Warden. Pushing, shoving, little jabs here or there while the female guard looked away and pretended she didn't see him be a dick and Machi take it because he had to, he hated the straitjacket, and Natasa was back, he had to behave. She said so.

And so, one day when he'd stared at him too hard from his cell, the guard waited before Machi was to leave his cell for a meal. Had Machi's arms been unbound, maybe he could have retaliated against the sound crack to his nose in time to avoid the rest. As it happened to be, Machi ended up in the infirmary. He had only one arm chained to the cot, the criminal himself sitting on the edge of the cot. His legs were slightly spread, feet pressed firmly on the infirmary ground, and in his lap, a red-clothed hand laid. Mach kept his head down, hair to hide his eyes.

A different guard stood to the side of the cot, only one with the injured inmate. The only noise coming from the pair would be the steady drip drip drip of the blood from Machi's nose falling onto his leg, staining the already-red uniform.

His second new guard wove through the infirmary to find a stray, possibly free healer. There were none. One waved him towards an office, and the guard headed right there. He rapped quickly at the door, throat clearing as he did so. "Oi. Is there a healer in the house? We got a prisoner with the wherrie shit beat outta'im."

[tuathade]

Ralvyn was doing inventory in the infirmary. Bandages, common herbs and salves, needlethorn and thread for the worse injuries - all things that healers ran through quickly. It was important to keep a close eye on the stock. Fellis, less so here than in most places; most of the prisoners couldn't be given fellis, for obvious reasons. But the lesser painkillers, along with antiseptics and standard remedies, Ral was keeping a careful tally of. Scroll in one hand, writing implement in the other, he scribbled down each one in small, neat handwriting.

He set aside what he was doing immediately when the guard called to him. "Injured prisoner...? All right, give me a second." Patients took priority. He set down the scroll and went for his first aid kit - Ral kept a basket with the basic essentials close at hand at all times, just in case of emergency. Following the guard, he stepped out of the office...

...It was Machi. It was, undeniably, Machi.

Ralvyn had never met the man before, granted. But you simply didn't hang around Warden's for any length of time without hearing the stories. Warden's had its serial killers, its rapists, its arsonists and Dustlords... Machi got into the special category of 'killer that other killers warned you about.' He was both infamous and physically distinctive, with the pale skin and hair.

Still, Machi or no, he was bleeding. Profusely, from the nose. Might be broken, even... But that would be difficult to tell for sure until the swelling went down. Ral kept his eyes on Machi's hands as he approached, but his voice was surprisingly steady to his own ears. "You can stop the bleeding by holding tightly just below the bridge - it'll probably hurt, but at least it'll stop. Where else are you injured?" There were no obvious lacerations, and the prison jumpsuit hid any obvious bruising, at least for the moment. Ralvyn was already rifling through his kit through the supplies he figured he'd need.

[nozomi]

"Yeah, his guard went nuts and kicked the snot outta him. He's, uh, in Warden's office right now." The guard shuddered at the very thought of it all, and turned on his heel to usher Ralvyn towards the prisoner in general. Neither of them thought twice about bringing the young man to one of the most violent criminals in the prison, but unlike the previous two, the oversight came to be out of ignorance rather than malice.

For his own part, Machi didn't move until Ral started to talk. He looked up slowly, for once not bothering to stare at a new persons legs, or stomach, not even at their throat, but right to the Healer's face, at least as much of it as he could see. Whenever Ralvyn chose to look up, he had the hard, intense stare of Machi latched on, although those pale cheeks were flushed with color, several tracks of tears lacing halfway down his face. Being punched in the nose had the tendency to make a mans eyes water, and Machi no exception. Even his eyes had dilated.

"My arm." Even his voice was different than the low nasal monotone - rough, gritty, somewhat strained. Machi ignored the commentary on pinching his nose, let him fret over the blood continuing down over his lips and chin. The criminal flicked his good hand towards the other, thin lips set tight. With the good arm chained down, he couldn't motion much, but he tried. "And thigh. Same side. And sides. I was on the ground, and he had on boots."

Machi snorted, and immediately hissed, eyes swelling again in instinctive pain.

"He didn't like how I looked at him," Machi's sardonic tone did little to help him to not appear as a psycho, with blood on his lips, and those deep, flat eyes. He hadn't don't anything to the sharding guard. "They won't let me show you where he kicked me without your permission." The young man paused, eyes narrowed to study the young healer. "I won't do anything."

[tuathade]

“His guard did this?”

Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Everything about this was wrong. Machi’s crimes were disgusting, yes, but abuse wasn’t justice. The prison existed to remove dangerous elements from society, not to inflict further harm on the already irreparably damaged. The strong pacifistic streak in him rebelled at the thought. But at least the Warden was taking care of the situation.

Granted, that didn’t make him any happier about being the healer assigned to actually treat Machi. That flat, penetrating stare was unnerving. Didn’t like how I looked at him, the convicted murderer said. But… him on the ground in shackles, and the guard in heavy boots… Ral had to suppress a small shudder.

“Can you heat up some water?” he asked the friendly guard who’d spoken before. “Not too hot –“ because Ralvyn would be fed to a wher before he gave Machi anything hot enough to scald – “but he’ll need willowsalic for the injuries, and it’ll dissolve better in warm water than cold. Is he a Duster?” Ralvyn set aside the small paper packet of willowsalic powder for later, and fished out gauze for the blood and his little jar of numbweed. He didn’t have Machi’s file on hand, and without it he wasn’t sure what painkillers would be safe to use.

Fardles. He was actually going to have to touch the prisoner at some point, wasn’t he.

Addressing Machi again, Ralvyn let his voice go as grave as it possibly could. It still wasn’t particularly threatening (Ralvyn did not do severe very well) but the effort was there. “If you do try anything, I’ll just leave, and the guards can sort you out. But… I wouldn’t be much of a healer if I tried to treat you without having a proper look at your injuries.”

[nozomi]

"Apparently he's also been making the younger guards watch over the crazy while in the recreation area, too." Muttered the second guard, formerly silent. He shook his head, lip curling in his distaste at the idea. "He's lucky none of them were attacked, or hurt."

Machi's eyes slid towards the guard, full lips pulling down into a frown. He hadn't hurt a soul at Warden's, kept his head down and shoulders sloped all the time. The second guard refused to look at his prisoner, choosing instead to give Ral a tight lipped smile.

"Yeah, 'course. Do you need a lot? ... I'll just get more if we need it." The first guard shrugged, and before he left, answered the second question - with a laugh. He shook his head, a large dismissive hand waving in Machi's general direction. "No, there's no record of him needing to be detoxed."

"I'm not an addict." Machi said that much in a firm voice, whether or not anyone believed him. He looked back to Ralvyn again, sharp eyed and with his chin cocked upwards. It did little to keep the dripping at bay. When Ralvyn gave approval to see the mans wounds, the second guard grimaced - let's call him Shale - stepped forward. He crouched before Ralvyn, and shackled Machi's uninjured leg to the cot. It was then he unlocked the shackle on Machi's hand.

The murderer began to strip, peeling his jumpsuit off the best he could with one hand. Shale actually assisted with the disrobing, keeping as far from the young man as he could. Underneath the large red jumpsuit was an overly thin frame, muscles tight and wiry, though ribs could be seen under it. From collarbone to upper thigh, huge black bruises had started to form. The largest was from shoulder to elbow of his right arm, and on his right hip, where a pair of white boxer underthings hid it. On his ribs, particular purple discoloration rose up. Machi's forearm bore bright red finger marks, red turning purple from the grip, and his palms scraped up from when he'd fallen back. More handprints showed near his throat, something the jumpsuits collar had hidden.

The killer looked down at himself with disinterested eyes, though his jaw set into a firm line. "You're too mouthy for me to do anything." He said anyway, free hand touching the edge of his ribs with another quiet hiss. "I may swear as you heal me. It hurts. I won't do anything to you. I'll just swear."

Shale, at the very least, looked horrified at the damage. He tore his eyes away, to Ralvyn instead, as his partner returned with the warm water. Even the first guard stuttered silent at the pale figure mottled with black and blue, a grotesque Pernese Yin-Yang.

[tuathade]

Ral bit his lip at the sight of the ghastly bruises, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth. It was bad. Very bad. Worse than he’d been expecting, even with the description of the event. The guard who’d done this – had he been aiming to kill? The blackish bruising all up one side, the handmarks on his throat… Ralvyn had seen a lot of patients in various states of injury, but rarely any this extensive. The fact that both Machi’s hands were now free registered with Ralvyn, but only as a point of caution. There were two guards, and you’d have to be an idiot as well as insane to attack a healer in the process of treating you. He wouldn’t drop his guard, but he would do his job.

“Too mouthy?” Machi got a tight smile from Ral at that, though it didn’t quite reach the healer’s eyes. “Haven’t heard that one before. But I’ll be as gentle as I can.” True to his word, Ral inspected the damage with care, a slim hand ghosting delicately over the purple discolored ribs. “Cracked, at the very least,” Ral murmured aloud, mostly to himself. “Comfrey’s better than numbweed, in this case – it’ll speed healing, reduce the bruising.”

He was going to need more than just his little first aid kit, designed for minor mishaps and scrapes. Fortunately, the apprentice was lucky enough to have a spare set of hands… or two. Eyes briefly unfocusing, he visualized the ingredients he’d need, recalling the shape and color of their containers – and like a mental tugging at the back of his mind, he felt both his flits snap to attention. Good boys. The firelizards were well-trained and clever little assistants, and they’d find what he needed without any fuss.

He took the cup of warm water from the guard with a quiet thanks, stirring in the crystallized willowsalic along with a touch of sweet mint to make the unpalatable bitterness at least tolerable. “Here. It’ll dull the pain,” he offered the cup to Machi, along with a small pad of gauze if he cared to use it. (If Machi wasn’t bothered about the bloody nose, Ral didn’t intend to fight him over it. Not with significantly more serious injuries to worry about first.) That finished, a soft fluttering of blue and brown wings behind him signaled the arrival of the flits with the rest of the needed supplies, and Ralvyn set to work.

[nozomi]

"I've been told that being too mouthy is a good thing." Maybe something about getting half of his body squished like a tunnelsnake had something to do with Machi's somewhat dry humor, or the fact he was making conversation at all. The norm would be to scare the crap out of the person talking to him (unless one was like that weyrling guard, the stuttering one) and to do it using as few words as possible. Machi didn't remember being struck in the head, so the likelyhood of a concussion was... nill? Maybe.

Shards, Machi never aimed to be a Healer. That was all Natasa.

Machi took the cup and studied the liquid in it with a minute frown. He nodded his head in the direction of the cot for that offering of gauze, otherwise ignoring it for the cup of stuff in his hand. "Will it make me out of sorts, or just kill the pain?" He hated to be out of his own control. The serial killer loved to be the one with all of the answers, the only one who could do everything. He flexed the fingers of his bad hand, and decided to take a sip anyway.

Blood on his lip added a metallic taste to the sweet, further masking the bitterness. Machi flinched, but continued drinking, no matter what Ralvyn's response was in the question of the drugging. The apprentice worked, Machi's eyes distant and over the young mans shoulders, ignoring whatever it was Ral happened to be doing to his arm and leg. The killer would care when those pretty little arms wrapped around him. He stared at nothing, though his monotone, quiet words were aimed to Ral and those odd little firelizards.

"Warden doesn't usually allow people like you this deep into the infirmary." His lips twitched. "Not that I am here much. One hears rumors. Who are you?"

[tuathade]

"Mm? No, no. It's not fellis or anything of that kind. It'll only ease the pain." Ralvyn shrugged and set the gauze down, giving Machi a briefly thoughtful look. Maybe a less principled healer might have attempted to drug the prisoner to keep him quiet and compliant... But it wasn't as if Machi had actually made any threatening motions towards him yet. Ral wouldn't do that.

With an appreciative little scratch behind the headknobs to both of his small helpers, Ral finished putting together a compress for the cracked ribs. Mostly comfrey extract, but also a few other herbs and ingredients, based on what he remembered of La's teachings... Being apprentice to the eccentric holistic herbalist Masterhealer had its small perks. The problem was going to be wrapping up the ribs.

"Okay," Ral told Machi, voice still light and steady to cover his nervousness. "This part might hurt. You're welcome to swear all you like." Applying the damp cloth to the worst of the purplish discoloration, he quickly secured it with a few loops of bandage. The trick was to work swiftly, but carefully - it would need to be pulled tight enough to help, but not so tight as to cause more harm or make it hard to breathe. And, of course, it was not going to be particularly pleasant for the patient.

Fardles, he had to get a lot closer to Machi for this. Uncomfortably close. He was right up in the pale man's personal space, and Ral found himself silently hoping that Machi couldn't tell how fast his pulse was racing.

[nozomi]

No qualms meeting a person's gaze, Machi caught Ral's eyes when that little healer looked over to him. An eyebrow went up, just barely, and, yes, Ralvyn scored some points with the psychopath for not going and doping him up with some mind-muddling concoction. It didn't matter if maybe the boys motives stemmed from not putting an already beaten man into a vunerable state.

"Thank you." And that was that. He would say nothing else to the effect of not drugging him, and instead closed his eyes briefly to enjoy the seeping of not-pain through his body. Machi disliked being drugged - it was somehow distasteful to him, being out of control. He always needed control. Machi craved it, could not function without it. Ral let him keep a bit of it, without keeping him in near agony. Machi hated it when his ribs cracked.

Then Ral sidled close, tantalizingly close, and, mouthy or not, Machi fought back the urge to bite him. Even the pain of his entire body did nothing to dim that, not after only meeting that pretty little guard once (he remembered his name, still), and other than that, no one of interest. And when it came to being nervous as a caught flit, Ralvyn took the cake. Machi loved his guards in the moment that young man crept that near to him, for being too stupid to realize giving this healer to a man of his tastes was a bad move.

Machi leaned in. Ralvyn needed to be close anyway, didn't he? Machi lifted his arms, the injured one as high as it could go, and cocked his head so that lips almost brushed against the boys neck. With Ralvyn so close, Machi breathed in deep, pulling a full lungful of air and the youngmans scent into him. He, too, smelled like fear, the same sort most did. But under that... Machi's blood, it clogged part of his nose, but it didn't stop him.

It hurt. It hurt a lot. Machi hissed with it, and his shoulders flinched, but Machi did not move away from that silly young thing. Not touching, not shifting away, he hovered there between temptation to bite down and to not get himself thrown back into solitary with that straitjacket on. He breathed instead, and kept as close as he could to the Healer without touching him.

Not allowed. He'd get the jacket again.

"Are we done?" He asked finally, teeth gritted, and eyes closed. He enjoyed being near, and his scent, but the tang of his own blood to the air, in his breath, it began to take it's toll. "It is unpleasant."

[tuathade]

His hands moved swiftly but steadily, securing the bandages, wrapping the damaged ribs tight. Not too tight, not so constricting that Machi would find it difficult to breathe – just enough to immobilize and secure the broken bones. It was a delicate kind of work, and fortunately Ralvyn was careful even despite his circumstances.

Not that it was easy to concentrate, with Machi literally breathing down his neck… Oh fardles, the killer’s mouth was just way too close to his neck, and augh augh augh this was not okay. Nothing about this was okay. He focused on keeping his heart rate as steady as possible, at drawing slow even breaths, hands moving in their calm unhurried rhythm as he looped the cloth around Machi’s bruised and battered chest. Luckily for Ralvyn, he would never know precisely how close he came to being bitten by a psychopath… although that didn’t really do much for his overall peace of mind. Just stopped him from having a minor breakdown on the spot, really.

What was it about him, what was wrong with him, that when Machi hissed and flinched, Ralvyn’s own shoulders hunched taut in sympathy? Maybe it was the same stupid, suicidal part that kept him from dropping the supplies and just leaving, telling the guards to get another healer altogether - one who wasn’t young and soft and frightened and prey. “Few more seconds,” he murmured, voice barely more than a breath, and – there. Not his best ever. But given the conditions, certainly an acceptable bandaging job. He tied the end to secure it, then backed off for a moment to let his shaking hands settle.

“He should stay in the infirmary for now,” Ralvyn told the guards. “And a more senior healer should look at him, to check for internal injuries or complications.” Right, what else… Numbweed on the worst of the injuries elsewhere, and – he really didn’t want to touch Machi’s face. Ral did not want to get bitten. Not now. That would really ruin his day.

[nozomi]

Too bad.

The small pretty thing moved away. Mouthy as he was, Machi still found it agreeable to have someone even akin to Ral so close to him. Being surrounded by huge bloody guards and females were not his idea of a good time. Maybe it took getting the living crap kicked out of him to get close to someone like this (the bluerider, he didn't count, Machi's shirt was on then) - but.

But.

He looked down at his chest, the very beginnings of a frown turning at the tips of his mouth. "I am not allowed to stay at the infirmary." He said before the guards could even open their mouths. The killer glanced up at Ral, his face once more void of expression, though something akin to amusement tinged his words. "Not overnight."

"We'll bring him back." Shale shrugged. He did not look entirely pleased with the prospect, but gave Ralvyn a wane smile nevertheless. "But it's either bring him back, or leave him here in the 'jacket."

"I don't like the straitjacket." Machi's expression hardened just enough to be visible, but he mimicked Shale with the brief shrug of his good shoulder. Then, a quick glance to Ral, an appraising look (he would not kill the man once he got out). "Thank you."