Spirit Albarn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
notsoholyspirit) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
genessia2014-08-28 10:07 pm
notsoholyspirit) wrote in genessia2014-08-28 10:07 pm
Entry tags:
And every day this act we act gets more and more absurd...
Who: The Albarns
Where: Maka's Apartment
When: August 23
What: Papa made a friend and it didn't go so well.
[Spirit considers himself a fairly proud man. He's a Death Scythe, after all, and with that comes a sense of pride in one's own skills. Unfortunately for him, pride didn't work out so well for him, especially not today. He's tried to dress the slice on his chest himself and failed miserably twice; the surgical grade cut was hard to keep together.
It was no help that the anxiety of running into a mini Stein that he knew nothing about had kept his hands shaking as he tried to patch himself up.
As such, it isn't until well after dark that the scythe turns up at the apartment down the hall, tapping on the door quietly and hoping that Kid--or even Soul, he was that desperate--got to the door first.]
Where: Maka's Apartment
When: August 23
What: Papa made a friend and it didn't go so well.
[Spirit considers himself a fairly proud man. He's a Death Scythe, after all, and with that comes a sense of pride in one's own skills. Unfortunately for him, pride didn't work out so well for him, especially not today. He's tried to dress the slice on his chest himself and failed miserably twice; the surgical grade cut was hard to keep together.
It was no help that the anxiety of running into a mini Stein that he knew nothing about had kept his hands shaking as he tried to patch himself up.
As such, it isn't until well after dark that the scythe turns up at the apartment down the hall, tapping on the door quietly and hoping that Kid--or even Soul, he was that desperate--got to the door first.]
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is hurt
No, stop that Maka. She shakes her head and opens the door, staring coolly up at him.]
Papa? What's going on?
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I need an extra set of hands.
[He doesn't move to enter, instead tugging at his jacket uncomfortably, pulling it closer to his neck. His tie is conspicuously absent at the moment.]
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Mutely, Maka takes Spirit by the arm to lead him to sit down in the living room.]
What happened?
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Some new kid here thought it would be fun to try and make me his new science project.
[A shiver runs through him uninvited.]
He actually used the term dissect, but that's beside the point.
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He has a wound on his chest, just like that time before with Soul.
Someone sliced into her father just like Soul got sliced into and she wasn't able to prevent it again.
Maka feels sick, she's actually gripping her upper arms painfully and biting her lip, trying not to make any distress evident. Don't be a baby about it, you're supposed to be strong.
Be strong.
She straightens up, posture still tense, nodding slowly, letting her hands fall to her sides and just nodding as though she understands what's going on.]
Is it a big wound?
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It didn't help that he couldn't shake lingering uncertainty from his own mind, a familiar skittish feeling of not knowing he was safe at night from his meister's strange habits.
He's made a mistake coming to ask for help.
Before he's processing it, he stands again with a smile, however weak. There are hospitals and clinics here. He should have gone there instead of burdening her with his mistakes.
Again.]
It's not big. I just needed another bandage.
[Spirit smiles, this time with a bit more confidence. His mistake. He could take care of it himself.]
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[Standing up generally means someone is leaving, she doesn't want him to leave, she doesn't want him to wander around outside while bleeding, who knows who would find him. This world is still unfamiliar and all the people so far have been more ambiguous than she likes.]
Please don't go, Papa.
[Don't leave, why does he always leave?]
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[Spirit stiffens. Once again his solution had become a problem. Every time he attempts to fix something he only breaks it more.
But she sounds so desperate and truthfully it wasn't the need for medical assistance that brought him over but for company. He couldn't lock his door enough times to alleviate his nerves earlier.
So he sits again, silent.
After a few moments he shrugs his jacket off of his shoulder, revealing a splotchy stained dress shirt. Undoing a few buttons he shows the haphazard dressing on his collarbone. His voice is nervous, just the slightest tremor when he speaks.]
It's deeper than I originally thought and won't stop bleeding.
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[Then she will flit off to find the first aid kit and come back--hands shaking just slightly as she digs out the cotton and gauze.
If it's deep then he needs stitches.
Stitches make scars.
You can't help him.
STOP.
Doubts nag at her with unusual insistence, but--it's her father, her connection to him is much different than with her friends. They have a strained relationship, of course, but that doesn't mean she loves him any less than she did as a young child. She just...doesn't say it.]
Probably because you had to do it yourself. I can't imagine that going at that angle would help much.
[It's just small talk as she removes the dressing already there, cringing at the sight of blood--no, not because it's blood--because it's his blood. Maka doesn't want to do this, but who else would? Kid would fuss over proper dressing too much and Soul...no, it has to be her, her partner would agree.
Carefully, Maka starts to clean the wound, pressing gauze against it as the blood peeks back up to replace what was cleaned, taping it down as she goes with a precision that comes from years of having to dress classmates' and her own injuries.]
Did you get his name?
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[Spirit can feel himself tense as she touches him, his lower lip pressed between his teeth. He hated blood and all things associated with it: needles, sutures, scalpels. He hated it so much so that it had been a quiet joke amongst his peers. He'd never said anything about why it bothered him so much--nights waking up with blood on him from his meister's experiments, done without permission or question--
He jumps slightly at the thought, the memory clear and popping into his mind unbidden. His free hand, previously balled into a fist with a grip on his trousers came to his face, runninging through his hair with a sigh.]
Thank you. F-feels better already.
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[She says that like a mother scolding a little kid, but she knows why he did, he's thinking about Professor Stein. Maka respects the professor, of course, but he's very off-kilter and obviously did some harmful things to her father in their youth--of course Spirit would be scared of him, who wouldn't? She's even scared of him a little, but her trust in him lets her ignore her fear, Stein's always consistently been able to control himself around the children at least. The children matter to him just as much as they matter to Spirit, or Miss Marie, or any of the other teachers.
And he's even going to be a dad, too.
In some way...Maka wishes that Stein was here for her father. Not just because he can use Spirit's full potential, but his expertise in stitching.
One layer of gauze down, another to go.]
I'm going to go with you to the hospital tomorrow, I don't think you should be going around alone as often anymore. I know you can't help it, but this place seems to like getting you into trouble.
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[He's surprised by the sternness in his tone, but there is no part of him that plans to relent to her suggestion. He absolutely abhorred everything about hospitals. A cut that his daughter felt needed stitches wouldn't be doing anything to change that, even if there was a part of her that was even somewhat correct in the suggestion.
As for Stein...He was perfectly content with his former meister both not being here and with him continuing to not be here. The man had betrayed the weapon's trust more times than he could count. Certainly, the students at the Academy seemed pleased enough with the just slightly mad doctor (or at least not terrified of him), but Spirit continued to not trust the man. The idea of Stein as a father occasionally made him sick to his stomach.]
It's a very neat cut and it will heal fine without stitches.
[It's said with an air of authority, as though he'd said and justified this before--because he has.
When she presses another layer of gauze against his shoulder, he pulls back with a frown, surveying the damage. She probably would want to do more, but he was already certain he'd made a mistake by coming to her. He should have figured it out himself.]
Thank you.
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He says that, he pulls away from her, she stares at him as though she's looking at a stranger. This isn't...this isn't how her dad usually acts, but then she's usually not treating injuries on him either.]
Oh, I'm sorry, is it because there're no sexy nurses around?
[She says, jumping to that conclusion. Of course, he wouldn't have a problem if it was a female nurse taking care of him, with the way he slobbered all over Medusa. He only started avoiding the clinic when Professor Stein started working there again. Naturally, because there were no women.
Ugh. He never changes. How disgusting.]
Well, it's just me right now, and I'm not going to let you ditch me again--especially not when you're hurt.
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He hates hospitals thanks to Stein's creepy behaviors. It has nothing to do with the nurses or the (normal) doctors. Though they had never talked about it before, he knew that Maka at least had an idea of how uncomfortable Stein really made him.
Regardless of all that, he flushes, face nearly as red as his hair, and then looks at the wall.]
I don't want to go the hospital.
[The previous firmness in his tone is gone, replaced with the nervous tremor that had been there when he first arrived.]
I don't like going to the hospital. It makes me nervous. Isn't that enough?
[Now, the tincture of nervousness is gone. Desperation is all that's left. Because truthfully he would rather drop dead than go to the hospital willingly.
It doesn't matter that his reaction is completely nonsensical. He doesn't want to go. He doesn't want to even think about going. He just wanted quiet time with someone he could trust, since the door to his apartment only had one lock and there was that creepy mini Stein out and about and threatening to slice him up.]
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[It's the desperation that throws her off. He's legitimately terrified right now, isn't he? What exactly did Stein do to him for the years that they were partnered? He said frequently that her mom "saved" him, but she didn't know he meant that literally...]
Fine.
[She still doesn't trust that he wouldn't refuse if it was a nurse offering to care for him...she just can't, it's too hard not to.]
Then stay here for the night. You can rest on the couch.
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Sort of.
He's quiet as he fumbles with the buttons on his shirt, forgoing replacing the jacket with a frustrated sigh. The effort wasn't worth it, he didn't think. Besides, when he wasn't playing for the sake of seeming unperturbed, his arm and shoulder really hurt.]
I promised I'd give you, Kid and Soul privacy.
[He's trying to maintain his end of the bargain. He could stay in the apartment nearby, as long as he gave the kids their privacy. And he was trying really hard to do that. Because he'd promised.]
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[Privacy, whatever for? It's just one night, it's not as though the kids had some secret meeting where they talked about dirty things or something.]
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Not that it mattered, since he was relieved she didn't mind him spending some time over.]
Of course I wouldn't want you alone! It is somewhat different circumstances, though.
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[She's trying. She's trying to be a good daughter, an understanding daughter. Her mom would want that, wouldn't she? Maka just really doesn't want him to leave the space where she is, where he can be harmed, where she can't throw herself in front of him.]
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For a student as bright as she was, Maka did not understand the first rule of being a weapon, the one beaten into the EAT team's weapon on their first day of class. You died for your meister. Never, ever the other way around. To fail in that task was a most grievous sin. The most unforgivable sin.]
Okay.
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A meister cannot be without their weapon.]
Lie back, then. I'll get blankets and a pillow...do you want some water? Maybe something to eat?
[She doesn't have alcohol, don't ask her for that.]
I wrote this tag about five ways befor eposting sorry X_x
I can make tea?
[He wants to thank her again, but that doesn't seem like enough. Going back to his apartment, while reasonable, didn't sit well with him and she'd already offered to have him spend the night. He was left with only this option, and it seemed decent...sort of.]
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But at the same time...]
Does it hurt? Can you move like that?
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[To prove his point, he gentle moves his left arm around to show he has no limitation in movement. While doing so, of course, he's biting down on the inside of his cheek to keep from grumbling at the discomfort but hey--he's trying to prove a point.]
See? I can move just fine.
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Whatever.
[...Maka the object is to not be sarcastic.]
...You say. The kettle's on the stove already, mugs are in the cupboard, and the bags are lined up on the counter.
[And they're arranged by color because Kid at least was allowed to have that.]
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After a few minutes he returns to the living room with two mugs of tea, placing one in front of Maka with a quiet sigh.]
I hope this is still how you like it...
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[She's not...trying to be mean when she says that. It's been a while since they lived together, even longer since they had anything resembling a meal time together. As a Death Scythe, her dad has a lot more responsibilities than he'd first appear to, even if one were to ask her on a regular day she'd just say he's an irresponsible skirt-chasing boozer.]
...Thanks.
[Maka should smile, she should try to start up another topic in conversation, these are only natural things to do with a family member...but it's still so painful and awkward for her to be around him. Especially with the knowledge that underneath it all, he's bleeding from a wound some stranger inflicted on him. It weighs on her heart and mind, but she holds herself up--posture tense and brows furrowed--she can't be weak. She has to be strong for her friends and her father.]
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I don't know. It's one of those details I can't really forget.
[Truthfully, it was one of the details he worked very hard not to forget. Overall, Spirit was a detail-oriented person: observant and attentive. That in no way meant he was a good person. It just meant that observing those things was a part of his job. Lord Death might not be human but he could still be harmed. Keeping an eye out for those potential causes of harm was just a part of the work he did.
He's quiet for a few moments, staring at the small wafts of steam rising from the mug.]
Don't worry.
[He doesn't look up at her. He doesn't want her to feel obligated to be calm for him. He wanted familiar company, that was for sure. But he didn't want to make her uncomfortable.]
...please.
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[Her fingers tighten around the mug, she doesn't even feel the heat her body feels so numb with grief.]
I can't stop myself from worrying. You're my dad, I don't...[Maka chokes on her words, tears pricking at her eyes--no! Don't do that!] I don't...want to lose you.
[She's already been left behind by him so many times that she learned to stand on her own, without her parents, but at least she's known that he's always there--even in the background, even spending time with strangers. She can't handle the idea of him actually being hurt or possibly dying, even if it's something inherent in their lifestyle.]
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I'm sorry, Maka.