unpocoloco: (Tired)
Héctor ([personal profile] unpocoloco) wrote in [community profile] daybreakacademy2019-01-19 09:37 am

I can't fit in this skin, It's worn and useless thin

WHO: Héctor and Peter (again), Héctor and Ekkehardt
WHERE: Aube and out by that old Gazebo hangout / the infirmary
WHEN: Nearly a week after the 28 days later mission
WHAT: A catch up and a Check Up TM with an absolutely miserable man.
WARNINGS: Spoilers and bones and corpses and likewise

For Peter

In theory, they probably could have talked on the plane when it was taking them back. But as it was happening he could only stare ahead, glassy eyes wide and a million miles away. Feeling like his heart was tearing more and more the further the plane flew, he didn't manage to even glance Peter's way.

Not to mention, it wasn't long before everything else kicked in, the undead poisons he breathed, his time limit, the simple memory of the undead being blown apart. At that point, his knees were drawn up as close as he could make them, his arms went hugging his gut, and his head bowed. His breath little more than a rasp, he spent the rest of that plane trip shuddering as the shimmers of gold flickered on off through him and offered no more than pained or sickly grunts after that.

It's a miracle he made it to the freezer, really, and this time he didn't wait to change for a second, simply tumbling into a dead heap in the cold. Days pass. And then nights too. His skin starts turning blue and his hair becomes stiff with frost and there is no doubt that what's in that cramped freezer is absolutely a corpse.

It's not the longest he's been down for, but it's certainly up there. He doesn't burst from the freezer this time. Instead, waking with that first gasp, his body rattles with the cold but otherwise it's a struggle to move. Blindly, he eventually finds the door and climbs out. He can hardly care how it looks to everyone else; he grabs the blankets off his bed and walks out with them and his guitar, still shivering with them wrapped around. It's probably a good thing it's the dead of night anyway. He's set to leave, go out and play Coco's song, when he stops and turns back.

He goes to Peter's door. Then stands there, wondering if he should knock when the kid might be asleep. Perhaps at some point Peter will find him instead, ice chunks still in hair. Or perhaps he'll catch him out the door.

For Ekkehardt

Just a few more nights later, once he thinks he's finally gotten his bearings and gathered... he's not even sure if it's courage but something, he makes his way to the infirmary at last. He's been here a few times but not for himself. Mostly for saying hello to anyway awake and peering out the door or to try and see if there's anything he can "borrow". Still, even that is a rare event. Doctors and Dead equaled bad, bad, very bad things.

Or at least, that's what he thought before. Seeing that shade of Ekkehardt before, he hasn't entirely been able to get it out of mind. He's also simply reaching a point where things are hard right now and if the only thing he can deal with is his bones, then maybe it was time to deal with that.

And so, he's here, in the late evening when most are asleep. He hopes. He breathes deep, swallows nervously, then pushes through the door.

"Señor Ekkehardt? Are you in?"
spelleton: consumed by the earth (☀ set forth a soldier)

[personal profile] spelleton 2019-01-19 03:50 pm (UTC)(link)
Ekkehardt doesn't usually permanently retire to his room until it becomes quite late; accidents happen at any time, after all. He looks up as Héctor enters, smiling pleasantly as usual.

Does he ever get tired? It doesn't seem like he does. It's late, and he's clearly had some work to do, but he's fresh as ever.

"I am, as it turns out. What can I do for you, Héctor?"
spelleton: off the end (☀ with warmth to stave)

[personal profile] spelleton 2019-01-19 04:57 pm (UTC)(link)
"There's private rooms for one-on-one consultations, if that would make you more comfortable." Sometimes there were injuries - mental or physical - that needed to be kept private, after all.

He leads Héctor past the room of the infirmary with the more public beds (all empty, thankfully) to a hallway lined with doors. He opens one and walks into the room first - it's not usually what he does, but he's giving Héctor one last chance to decide if it's really what he wants to do.

He won't force it.

Provided the other man does enter, the door will close silently behind him, glowing briefly with light.

"Now, what problems are you having?"
spelleton: (☀ free reign for those between the veil)

[personal profile] spelleton 2019-01-19 05:21 pm (UTC)(link)
"Certainly. If you could show me the general location of your small fractures, that would be helpful." There's an emphasis on 'small fractures' that suggests Ekkehardt doesn't really believe they're small, but he's playing along anyway to make him feel slightly more comfortable in an environment the other man is clearly feeling very nervous about.

"If you're worried about it hurting, rest assured I've become an expert at treating broken bones. I try to keep pain at a minimum."
spelleton: no longer pressured to abide (☀ the dead ones in their sleep)

[personal profile] spelleton 2019-01-19 05:59 pm (UTC)(link)
For Ekkehardt, used to patients who generally tend to gesture at one place or another and let him sort it out, it's telling. The fact that he focuses on bones in particular is another unusual sign.

He can probably get away with this, then.

He reaches out with his magic, a glint of red glimmering in one of the eyeslits of his mask as he focuses his will on confirming those injuries. Hands lightly moving over the body without quite touching.

"You've done quite a bit of damage to yourself over time, but I can fix those easily enough. You'll need to walk carefully for a while - a cane would be a good idea, just for safety - but you'll be fine, otherwise.

There's no getting that rib back for you, I'm afraid, since I don't know where you lost it."

He sits back, dismissing his glamour with a wave of his hand, letting the illusion of flesh dissipate like fine mist. He smiles the same as ever, head tilted slightly.

"But I suspect it's not that vital a loss."
spelleton: no longer pressured to abide (☀ the dead ones in their sleep)

[personal profile] spelleton 2019-01-19 06:20 pm (UTC)(link)
"I've been dead for sixteen years and counting," Ekkehardt says, sounding amused at the apology. "Hardly recent. And yes. Living people don't get so exact about the way their bones have broken; they're usually more concerned with the flesh surrounding it. It's rather hard to check your own ribs with all that meat in the way, especially."

It's a bit of a morbid way to describe it, but, well. It is what it is. "You can relax, if that's what you were nervous about. Rest assured, I'm not going to tell anyone."
spelleton: no longer pressured to abide (☀ the dead ones in their sleep)

[personal profile] spelleton 2019-01-20 11:45 am (UTC)(link)
"Well, it's important to keep track of all your parts. You can't exactly regrow them the normal way, after all.

But I'd wondered what that glow was. Being able to switch between forms is certainly interesting..."

Ekkehardt rolls up his sleeves with quick, efficient motions, switching his usual red gloves for white ones. Unlike Héctor's transformation, rolling up his sleeves reveals only bandages underneath. They glow with runes, a shell that mimics the shape and curve of flesh.

"...but it seems like more of a hindrance than a help in your situation, however," he notes dryly, taking stock of the injuries. He mercifully says nothing judgemental about the fact that he appears to be half held together with tape.

He gestures, indicating that Héctor should hold his injured arm out to be treated first.
spelleton: (☀ the spirits and the whispers stir)

[personal profile] spelleton 2019-01-20 12:30 pm (UTC)(link)
"I need to rest in my casket every two days, to ensure I have sufficient magic to use on something other than keeping myself together. Other than that, I have none of the limitations - or benefits - of a living body, since I no longer possess one in any capacity." Magic, a strong will and a soul are the ingredients for his functioning, more than anything else.

He hums thoughtfully, removing the tape and lightly touching fingertips to the break on the other man's arm. White light sparks around the injury as he pushes it to heal and grow; it's not what he'd do for his own injuries, but since Héctor still has a living body in some capacity, he'll encourage use of the body's own functions first.

"I can put a binding on the affected areas, to stop further damage and encourage regrowth. Magical, naturally, so it doesn't interfere with your ability to pass as a living person. Would that suit you?"
spelleton: no longer pressured to abide (☀ the dead ones in their sleep)

[personal profile] spelleton 2019-01-20 12:50 pm (UTC)(link)
He needs to be more careful with recoil and impacts, to act like a living thing - more than that, to act like being a living thing is natural. Many instincts that used to be there simply aren't, which is a double-edged sword occasionally.

"Exactly. Yours is real for as long as your power lasts. I can only imitate a living body's functioning with my glamour - I don't feel it." He doesn't seem particularly bothered by the difference; he says it casually, almost clinically.

Now for the leg. He kneels to fix this one, focusing as he traces the range of intended movement, visualising how it needs to work and taking the necessary steps to push it back to how it should be.

"It will last until it's no longer needed. I'll need to inspect its progress now and then, to make sure it was the right treatment, but other than that it requires little maintenance on my part." It's a reliable spell pattern; he's used it before many times, though usually not on undead patients.
spelleton: (☀ the spirits and the whispers stir)

[personal profile] spelleton 2019-01-24 12:24 pm (UTC)(link)
"You get used to it, in time. That's the thing about the mind. It can get used to anything it likes." There's a bit of strangeness in his tone, some odd amusement like he's making a joke known only to himself, but it's not quite clear what was strange in that sentence to warrant it.

He shakes his head at the other man's mention of repayment. "It's my profession - I require no repayment. I'd be a bad healer if I let those who need my help go untreated." It was unprofessional; sloppy. It's not something he can abide, being the way he is, knowing something could have been treated and is not.

He stands, moving around the room to go collect that cane. He doesn't seem to need to measure the other man, having apparently gotten the measure of him in height already.
spelleton: (☀ our idolized sun has burned out)

[personal profile] spelleton 2019-01-31 12:13 pm (UTC)(link)
"Oh, certainly." That, he agrees on. You needed a certain kind of strength, to come back from the dead and keep being yourself. It was easy to shackle a spirit to dead flesh - maybe too easy, in some ways - but staying a person, in a body that might as well be alien to you, that doesn't work correctly..

It's difficult. He'd taken to it well, but others had not. He remembers that.

"A singular motive, or a feeling...Some do it for vengeance, or survival. Duty. Remembrance. Love."

He sets the cane down next to the other man. There's an odd lightness on the way he says 'love' in particular, a sort of fondness he doesn't hide.

(After all, it's what he chose.)

"If you're really so bound to the idea of a favour, I'll certainly keep it in mind. But don't feel so obligated. It's hardly necessary."
spelleton: (☀ lifeless ashes give way)

[personal profile] spelleton 2019-01-31 01:59 pm (UTC)(link)
"Ah, you're a father. I see." He doesn't ask questions or say anything else either way, though there's a slight warmth to his tone; to be dead with a daughter who isn't is surely its own complication, so he won't pry. It's just...quiet understanding.

"I can't say I know exactly that's like, myself. I'm entrusted with the care of children who have little else left to them besides the family I serve, but I doubt they see me as a parent. More of a big brother than anything, I think."

Not quite the same, but it's still love. For the family he serves, for the children under his care. It's what drives him in the end, the desire to protect.