The familiar tang of her own blood made her nearly feral with her own brand of rage. It had been so long since she felt this kind of pain - and she couldn't even fight back against it. Not if she wanted to keep Jeritza and the majority of the city safe.
Can't even talk. What bullshit.
Blood pooled in her mouth as her wounded tongue retracted, drooled down her chin and splattered on her chest. Nina glared at him with an unbridled hatred, almost impressed by how easily she could discern between him and Jeritza now. Amazing how his very existence could make him look so wretched.
Death Knight hums with a smile as he watches the dark red, viscous liquid drip all over her. It's obscenely enjoyable, to the point where certain strange feelings happen in his body, a heat spreading. He ignores it.
There is only rage in her eyes; if she feels fear, it must be all immediately converted to anger, the way all of his emotions are.
"You and I may not be as different as you think," he murmurs, more thoughtful than anything. With how much she hates him, that comment will probably worsen her rage, and he prepares to have blood spat at him. No matter- he's used to being covered in blood.
If looks could kill, the Knight would be dead. There was nothing but pure hatred in her gaze, brown eyes all but burning red with it. Nina would admit she was all of those things- but she was not like him. She had a heart; she did not pray on innocents for her own sick sadistic pleasure. She wasn't a monster.
The only reason he didn't get blood spit on him was thanks to the way he held her mouth open. Instead, she growled - the sound primal and rising from her chest, the fingers on her still useful hand twitching.
Her growl gurgles in her throat. She looks like a tiny angry cat, cornered and about to unleash a flurry of scratches. He chuckles, low and dark, and removes his thumb from her mouth. He keeps his hand near her mouth, though, and then uses it to smear the blood down her neck and onto her chest, painting her red with his palm and fingers.
"You look like you want to tear my head from my shoulders. Might I remind you that you are the one who came here to me. Not that I could fathom why. Give in to the pain. The more you fight it, the more I will have to do to you."
If she were to cry and grovel, it would be more satisfying. But the way things are going, he will have to do more extreme things to break her.
Nina absolutely despised the way her body shuddered when he touched her; her own lust for violence apparent in the faintest arch of her back. Her offer to assuage his desires by more carnal means hadn't been a ploy - she would have happily done it once Jeritza had first been allowed the chance. Alas.
"You know exactly why I'm doing it." She said, spitting blood off to the side instead of directly into his face just to get it out of her mouth. "I'm not fighting you. Just do it." And, for whatever it was worth, there were tears already in the dips of her eyes, the ones she could not control as pain lanced through her with every move she made.
"Ah, yes, because you want to be a hero. A martyr. Save the city and poor Jeritza from my influence. Well, there is one thing he and I agree on. You are a fool."
There are tears gathering. That is encouraging. More pain, then. He doesn't often torture without the intent to kill. It is a different way of thinking. Maximum pain without enough blood loss for death... He figures the most bang for his buck will be the vial of corrosive acid he has. He moves to the counter to open it, then back to her to grab her good wrist. He holds it tightly as he pours the acid on the back of her hand, which begins to burn it almost immediately. He watches as the skin turns red and the liquid begins to eat at her flesh.
Speaking of evil pieces of shit - only someone that fucking evil would have a vial of acid on fucking tap. Nina watched him, eyes shifting from the vial to her hand, confused until it hit her skin. The pain was immediate and intense - more so than the broken bone because she knew what those felt like, knew what to expect. But this? Holy shit. "You fucking prick-!" she screeched, a volley of colorful words suddenly spouted in his direction, her head turned away so she didn't have to watch the acid eat away at her flesh, tears streaming down her cheeks despite every attempt to quell them.
"It is amusing that you think such words can hurt me."
As she starts shouting and swearing, he begins to laugh, low and quiet in the back of his throat. Finally, a reaction. He grins as his eyes glance from her wet, bloody face to the festering wound forming on the back of her hand. A strange smell fills the air, one of the acid and the breaking-down flesh. He still holds her wrist tightly. He knows how to neutralize this acid, but he isn't going to, not unless he starts to see muscle and bone.
There's resistance this time; instinctive and primal, her weight shifting to try and yank her arm away even if she knows she cannot. More swears spew from her lips, nonsensical and full of fury because she wants to hit him so fucking bad. Just lay into him with all she has.
But that would hurt Jeritza, and she's doing it for him. For the sake of everyone else so the fucking lunatic doesn't kill someone. Nina breathes like she's run a marathon, sweat beading her brow and dripping down her face to meld with the tears that will not cease. Blood and sweat and tears all splattering onto her bloodied chest, right atop the print left by his hand.
He laughs softly again, though the sound is still awful and sinister.
"Much better."
She is beginning to give into the pain, beginning to break. He lets go of her hand; it will continue to burn no matter what she does with it. The only relief will come from neutralizing it with a basic solution. He then pulls out his dagger again and places a hand on her shoulder, leaning over it to look more closely. He sinks the sharp tip of his knife into her deltoid muscle and drags it down, then takes it out. Sinks it in again, draws a curved line that connects to the other. It's deep enough to hurt terribly, bleed profusely, and to scar.
It's a brand. A "D".
A point of pride. Physical proof of his domination over her, in his mind. Something that would surely piss her and Jeritza off to no end, that he'd laid claim to her body, that he is always here and they can't get rid of him. And fuck them for trying to. He has just as much a right to live in this body as Jeritza does, with all he did to protect their mother and sister, and protect themselves from any threat. He has a right to exist.
"You will never be rid of me, Nina. So long as you are near Jeritza, you will be near me, too. I cannot be permanently killed, and I am not going anywhere. So you best get used to this."
Nina was gritting her teeth so hard it hurt - but not nearly as much as the rest of her hurt. Broken arm hanging at her side, a dull ache now in comparison to the pulsing, continuous pain of the acid burning into her flesh. All the knife did was make the pain ricochet back and forth between her shoulder and hand, head tipped back to stare up at the ceiling instead of anywhere on her absolutely fucked body. Or at him.
So bold of him to assume she wouldn't mutilate herself just to be rid of that brand - carve over it enough times to strike it out. She had scars enough already. What were a few more? But he had the satisfaction now. Had the satisfaction of making Nina Ironfist, the Ogreslayer, legend of Valsheria, weep and bleed and her only solace was in knowing it was only because she let him.
"And you - aha..." she gasped as pain surged through her, speech slurred with agony and blood loss. "You say I talk too much."
It doesn't matter what she says, anymore. Nothing can piss him off now. He's riding on the thrilling high of someone else's pain, and it's only made better by how much he hates her, how proud she always is. He steps back to examine his handiwork, just watching and listening. What is more delicious? The sight- blood painting her tight little body red, arm hanging limply at her side, bent and mangled strangely? Or the sound- the heaving breath, the stifled sobs, the moans of pain? It's all a beautiful show for him to drink in, to bask in.
His whole body feels warm and wonderful. His... Dick is twitching. Waking up. He ignores it. Pushes any sexual thoughts away aggressively. But it's not even thoughts, it's an automatic response from his body. It begins to disturb him, irritate him. No. Not for this girl. Disgusting. Revolting.
"Well. I suppose it's time for your boyfriend to clean up my mess. He'll have such fun with that. Until next time."
With that, he begins to disassociate, his face and eyes going blank. It seems to take a long time, him just standing there, swaying slightly.
"No-" fuck. Nina almost didn't want Jeritza to see the state she was in, knowing that his hands were the cause of it, at least in the physical sense. That hurt more than the broken bones and cuts and burning acid and fuck she didn't think that part through enough. The aftermath will be awful.
Nina stood from the chair, blood rushing, spilling onto the floor already soaked with it. She stumbled, still half sobbing as she tried to move away from him.
But she fell instead, slipped and toppled, twisting at the last second to brace herself on her unbroken arm, the feeling of her burned hand hitting the floor making her whimper. That was it. That is what truly broke her, her head bowed to rest against her forearm, the sizzling of her own skin right beside her ear, and she just... cried. Don't look at her. Please god don't look at her.
Jeritza has been buried deep in his inner world. Lost, frankly. He'd given up on trying to control his alter, given up on trying to manage his mental state or life. Without any chance at happiness or love, without Nina or anyone else to care for, what was the point? He no longer cared what happened to him.
He'd only become buried deeper as Death Knight tortured Nina and enjoyed himself too much to even think about giving up control of the body. So when he finally does disappear, Jeritza isn't right there to take his place. He's not even aware he's supposed to switch in.
This is the cause of the radio static in his mind, the vacant way he stands in the middle of the kitchen, like a video game avatar with no one holding the controller.
But faintly, Jeritza hears crying. A woman crying. It sounds like... It might be Nina. Slowly, he begins to move out of the dense fog he's in, toward the crying. He feels dread. Does he want to see this?
He becomes vaguely aware of a kitchen around him. The crying is coming from below. He looks down. As soon as he does, he is snapped into focus, violently jolted into his body with a small gasp.
Nina... Crying and crumpled in a pool of her own blood. He falls to his knees beside her.
"Nina?! Nina. What happened?!" A far cry from his usual monotone, his voice sounds conpletely horrified. His throat feels tight, his heart pounds fast in his chest. He puts a hand on her back and looks around for evidence of what's occurred. Blood, a chair, tools on the counter, a vial of liquid.
Torture.
He looks down at her again, afraid to touch her and hurt her more.
Nina's breath came hard, the air in her lungs like fire as panic set in. It was so easy to be prideful and arrogant in the face of a monster. But knowing Jeritza would not enjoy the sight of her broken body, would hate knowing how and why it happened, made her feel like she was the monster for what she was about to make him suffer through.
It was agony, hearing him shout like that - too used to the monotone. Maybe she should have been pleased he sounded like a person, for once, instead of some dead, emotionless machine, but the price wasn't worth it.
"No." She murmured, and it was stupid to even try and hide it. She had nowhere to go. She needed help, even if the help came at the hands of the man who had inflicted the wounds. Sort of. "Just call for help and go. You don't need to be here." She lifted her head so he could hear her speak, revealing the acid burning her hand, the blood on her lips and chin, and hints of the wounds on her chest. The broken arm was, well, fairly obvious and difficult to hide in any position, hanging lamely at her side against the tile. "I'm sorry."
Nightmare. Nightmare. Nightmare. Jeritza had awoken many times to the sight of dead bodies, but rarely was anyone still alive and in pain, and if they were, he'd simply end the pain with a final merciful blow. It was never like this, never someone he... Cared for so much. It's a deep, awful, sinking, cold pain. Guilt and terror. Will she die in front of him?
"No. I won't leave you."
His voice is gruff even as his throat still tightens and strains against the possibility of tears. He pushes down his emotions enough to be able to act. He quickly examines what of her he can see. An acid burn, blood from cuts, a broken arm.
He gets up swiftly, grabs baking soda and water with trembling hands and mixes them, then kneels again to pour the solution on her hand. The neutralizing effect should grant her instant relief from much of the burning. He spots one of the sources of the blood- a wound on her shoulder- and presses healing energy into it with his palm. It should relieve a bit of the pain and stop most of the bleeding. There's likely a first aid kit somewhere in this house, but he doesn't want to leave her here to go look for it. Her arm will be a terrible ordeal; he'll have to set and splint it somehow. Unless they go to a clinic...? His mind races.
Nina had no idea what he was doing, but the moment he returned and started pouring something on her hand, her instinctive response was to flinch, half expecting it to hurt just as much as the burn did, even if she did not fear he was trying to hurt her. The relief was... surprising, and after a moment of tension, she relaxed as best she could with the pain still shooting through her from various other sources.
"Jeritza-" She almost warned him not to look or even touch the wound on her shoulder, knowing full well the nasty brand she carried now. That awful, obvious indication that the Death Knight was there and had laid claim to her - a warning for the both of them that this was only the beginning. Nina did not regret her choice to let him torture her, but she was very much regretting this very moment.
Gods, her fucking head hurt. Her eyelids fluttered. Too much blood on the floor that should be inside her; the taste of metal in her mouth; her entire body aching worse than the time she fell off a fucking castle wall and landed on nothing but solid earth. "I need a doctor. I won't - I won't tell them it was the Death Knight. I promise. You'll be safe."
He's panicking slightly. The way she says his name tugs on his heart. But he can't break down now. He has to deal with this, take responsibility for this, even though it's something he would never even think of doing...
Thankfully he doesn't notice the brand yet, obscured by so much blood.
She says she needs a doctor, and she's right. She's lost too much blood, and at the very least, she needs IV hydration and a strong painkiller. Two things he doesn't have. Her pain is hurting him... He's never felt that way before.
Think, Jeritza, think. He looks down at his hands, which are covered in blood. If he carries her into a clinic, what will they think? What story will they tell them? Will he be recognized and incriminated immediately, regardless of what they say?
It doesn't matter. He won't let her die, and he won't let her suffer needlessly. He can deal with whatever happens to him, so long as he knows she's okay.
"Okay. I will take you."
He helps her to sit up against the cabinets. Then he removes his own sweater.
"I need to tie your arm up. This will hurt."
He gently, but quickly, bends her broken arm up against her chest so it won't fall or hang painfully as he carries her. He ties his sweater around her snugly, to hold the arm in place. Then he lifts her. He'll walk to the end of the street and call a cab from there, so no one knows exactly where they came from.
Nina was fully prepared to defend him if she had to. Him being covered in blood could easily be blamed on the fact that he had to help her after she was assaulted by... someone. She wouldn't dare try to name names. Her wounds and bloodloss might be enough for her to just say she didn't see their face. Hid it. Something. It didn't matter.
"Motherfuck-" she growled as he adjusted her arm. Far less painful than the actual break, but no less awful now that the adrenaline has worn off.
Nina took a deep breath to steel herself as he lifted her, slumping against his chest once he started walking. Few and far between were the moments when she felt so helpless, so awful for what she had done - not even to herself. "Thank you." She murmured, relatively silent for the duration of the trip there, listening to the rapid thud of his heartbeat.
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." He whispers the dazed chant as he exits the abandoned house and walks briskly down the street. He carries her slightly apart from his body so his steps will jostle her less. It's more effort, but she's light and he has to do whatever he can for her now.
He sits on the curb at the end of the street with her in his lap and summons a cab with his device. As they wait, he looks down at her face, but it's so pained and bloodied he can't bear to keep his gaze there. He knows his alter well, knows how horrible he is and what he does to people, and the fact that she's bearing the brunt of it makes him feel awful.
He stares into space, disassociating, though Death Knight isn't anywhere near. His alter hates this kind of task. It's completely against his nature to care for someone like this. Jeritza's brain simply needs to put distance between himself and this situation, these feelings.
Helpless. He did everything he could think of to keep her safe from him, and none of it made any difference. This wasn't his fault, and yet it is his burden. What is he going to do now? How can he possibly keep her safe when the danger is inside of him? He wishes she would kill him (still unaware of death's impermanence). Perhaps he should do it himself just to end this. The world would be far better off without him, objectively.
"It's okay." She replied. She felt awful for all of it - for subjecting Jeritza to the aftermath of the Death Knight's torment, for not being strong enough or quick enough to make it out before they switched. It wasn't his fault, it was hers, because this is what she thought would be best. Bearing the brunt of the bloodlust, relieving Jeritza of any blame because she sure as fuck wasn't going to utter his name.
But he was so... soft. So sweet. Too gentle for all of this. Nina felt the tears falling again and tried her best to press her face to the crook of his neck, to draw herself close even if it hurt. "It's okay. I'm okay." She would be. She had to be. "You don't have anything to be sorry for anyway - I did this. I let him do it just like I said I would. I won't let him hurt innocents if I can avoid it, and I'm not going to let him keep making you suffer for his shit." A beat. "You weren't supposed to see it. I'm sorry."
His daze is interrupted by her squirming to get close to him, and he gently pulls her in, cradling her. He feels her hot tears on his neck.
So she enabled this. Allowed it. Perhaps even asked for it. It makes him feel a little better, that she wasn't snatched up against her will in fear, but it doesn't absolve all of it. Would this just happen again and again? Would he constantly wake up to her being hurt so that the city could be safer? The thought of it makes his heart ache. Tears begin to brim in his own eyes, and his breath shakes slightly. These strange and terrible feelings he's never had before threaten to overwhelm him. It was all easier when he pushed people away, kept them at a distance so they would be safe. It was so painfully lonely. He was sad all of the time. But is this any better?
He lowers his face down to kiss her forehead. One of his tears falls onto it. He rests his cheek against it.
It's all so broken.
"I don't want you to be hurt," is all he can choke out. His voice is small and sad and almost childlike.
Nina could not properly console him like she wanted to. So the best she could offer was another gentle press of her nose against his neck; a soft sigh of warm breath on his skin. Feeling the tear following that sweet kiss is a worse agony than any physical pain she felt.
"I know." She admitted with another sigh. "But it's worth it to make sure everyone is safe. To make sure you're safe." She wished she was smarter or knew more about helping people with their problems- but this was all she could do. Use her body to endure so no one else had to - or, at the very least, no one else had to die. "I'm sorry, Jeritza. I'm so sorry you had to see this - I just don't want someone to take you away, toss you in prison for crimes you don't even commit. If I have to suffer for it, then I will."
"I know that's probably not what you want to hear. I understand if you won't forgive me for it either."
She says she's doing it for him, and while that's worse, selfishly, it does feel nice for someone to care about him that much. Especially someone he does care for himself. She says it's for him, to keep him safe and it of trouble. Were they in Fodlan, he would insist that wasn't necessary. But here, everything is completely different. He *could* die if his alter attacks someone too powerful, he *has* suffered injury, and he *will* eventually suffer consequences if things continue this way. But Nina sacrificing her body isn't what he wants for a solution.
"I forgive you. I will figure something out... A better solution... For now, rest."
Their cab soon pulls up, and he holds her in the back seat. The driver glances at him with fear and anger. When they arrive at the clinic, he pays double what the fare is and apologizes for the blood. As he rushes her inside, he tries to think of what to say. He found her on the street after an assault...?
She smiled faintly against his neck. "Thank you." Of course he forgave her. He was a good man, a sweet man who deserved far better than he had.
Nina was struggling to maintain consciousness once settled in the cab and in his arms, the rocking of the cab almost lulling her to sleep despite the pain.
Then she was moving again, grunting as she tried to figure out where she was suddenly. Doctor? Right. She could almost feel Jeritza hesitating. "Found me injured in the road." She muttered. "They've seen me before." With wounds also inflicted by the Death Knight, but she hadn't even namedropped him then for whatever reason. A desire to fight him again, maybe. Who even knew.
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no subject
Can't even talk. What bullshit.
Blood pooled in her mouth as her wounded tongue retracted, drooled down her chin and splattered on her chest. Nina glared at him with an unbridled hatred, almost impressed by how easily she could discern between him and Jeritza now. Amazing how his very existence could make him look so wretched.
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There is only rage in her eyes; if she feels fear, it must be all immediately converted to anger, the way all of his emotions are.
"You and I may not be as different as you think," he murmurs, more thoughtful than anything. With how much she hates him, that comment will probably worsen her rage, and he prepares to have blood spat at him. No matter- he's used to being covered in blood.
"Prideful. Rageful. Violent."
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The only reason he didn't get blood spit on him was thanks to the way he held her mouth open. Instead, she growled - the sound primal and rising from her chest, the fingers on her still useful hand twitching.
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"You look like you want to tear my head from my shoulders. Might I remind you that you are the one who came here to me. Not that I could fathom why. Give in to the pain. The more you fight it, the more I will have to do to you."
If she were to cry and grovel, it would be more satisfying. But the way things are going, he will have to do more extreme things to break her.
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"You know exactly why I'm doing it." She said, spitting blood off to the side instead of directly into his face just to get it out of her mouth. "I'm not fighting you. Just do it." And, for whatever it was worth, there were tears already in the dips of her eyes, the ones she could not control as pain lanced through her with every move she made.
fight club
There are tears gathering. That is encouraging. More pain, then. He doesn't often torture without the intent to kill. It is a different way of thinking. Maximum pain without enough blood loss for death... He figures the most bang for his buck will be the vial of corrosive acid he has. He moves to the counter to open it, then back to her to grab her good wrist. He holds it tightly as he pours the acid on the back of her hand, which begins to burn it almost immediately. He watches as the skin turns red and the liquid begins to eat at her flesh.
stop talking about it
Speaking of evil pieces of shit - only someone that fucking evil would have a vial of acid on fucking tap. Nina watched him, eyes shifting from the vial to her hand, confused until it hit her skin. The pain was immediate and intense - more so than the broken bone because she knew what those felt like, knew what to expect. But this? Holy shit. "You fucking prick-!" she screeched, a volley of colorful words suddenly spouted in his direction, her head turned away so she didn't have to watch the acid eat away at her flesh, tears streaming down her cheeks despite every attempt to quell them.
o shit my bad
As she starts shouting and swearing, he begins to laugh, low and quiet in the back of his throat. Finally, a reaction. He grins as his eyes glance from her wet, bloody face to the festering wound forming on the back of her hand. A strange smell fills the air, one of the acid and the breaking-down flesh. He still holds her wrist tightly. He knows how to neutralize this acid, but he isn't going to, not unless he starts to see muscle and bone.
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But that would hurt Jeritza, and she's doing it for him. For the sake of everyone else so the fucking lunatic doesn't kill someone. Nina breathes like she's run a marathon, sweat beading her brow and dripping down her face to meld with the tears that will not cease. Blood and sweat and tears all splattering onto her bloodied chest, right atop the print left by his hand.
no subject
He laughs softly again, though the sound is still awful and sinister.
"Much better."
She is beginning to give into the pain, beginning to break. He lets go of her hand; it will continue to burn no matter what she does with it. The only relief will come from neutralizing it with a basic solution. He then pulls out his dagger again and places a hand on her shoulder, leaning over it to look more closely. He sinks the sharp tip of his knife into her deltoid muscle and drags it down, then takes it out. Sinks it in again, draws a curved line that connects to the other. It's deep enough to hurt terribly, bleed profusely, and to scar.
It's a brand. A "D".
A point of pride. Physical proof of his domination over her, in his mind. Something that would surely piss her and Jeritza off to no end, that he'd laid claim to her body, that he is always here and they can't get rid of him. And fuck them for trying to. He has just as much a right to live in this body as Jeritza does, with all he did to protect their mother and sister, and protect themselves from any threat. He has a right to exist.
"You will never be rid of me, Nina. So long as you are near Jeritza, you will be near me, too. I cannot be permanently killed, and I am not going anywhere. So you best get used to this."
no subject
So bold of him to assume she wouldn't mutilate herself just to be rid of that brand - carve over it enough times to strike it out. She had scars enough already. What were a few more? But he had the satisfaction now. Had the satisfaction of making Nina Ironfist, the Ogreslayer, legend of Valsheria, weep and bleed and her only solace was in knowing it was only because she let him.
"And you - aha..." she gasped as pain surged through her, speech slurred with agony and blood loss. "You say I talk too much."
no subject
His whole body feels warm and wonderful. His... Dick is twitching. Waking up. He ignores it. Pushes any sexual thoughts away aggressively. But it's not even thoughts, it's an automatic response from his body. It begins to disturb him, irritate him. No. Not for this girl. Disgusting. Revolting.
"Well. I suppose it's time for your boyfriend to clean up my mess. He'll have such fun with that. Until next time."
With that, he begins to disassociate, his face and eyes going blank. It seems to take a long time, him just standing there, swaying slightly.
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Nina stood from the chair, blood rushing, spilling onto the floor already soaked with it. She stumbled, still half sobbing as she tried to move away from him.
But she fell instead, slipped and toppled, twisting at the last second to brace herself on her unbroken arm, the feeling of her burned hand hitting the floor making her whimper. That was it. That is what truly broke her, her head bowed to rest against her forearm, the sizzling of her own skin right beside her ear, and she just... cried. Don't look at her. Please god don't look at her.
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Jeritza has been buried deep in his inner world. Lost, frankly. He'd given up on trying to control his alter, given up on trying to manage his mental state or life. Without any chance at happiness or love, without Nina or anyone else to care for, what was the point? He no longer cared what happened to him.
He'd only become buried deeper as Death Knight tortured Nina and enjoyed himself too much to even think about giving up control of the body. So when he finally does disappear, Jeritza isn't right there to take his place. He's not even aware he's supposed to switch in.
This is the cause of the radio static in his mind, the vacant way he stands in the middle of the kitchen, like a video game avatar with no one holding the controller.
But faintly, Jeritza hears crying. A woman crying. It sounds like... It might be Nina. Slowly, he begins to move out of the dense fog he's in, toward the crying. He feels dread. Does he want to see this?
He becomes vaguely aware of a kitchen around him. The crying is coming from below. He looks down. As soon as he does, he is snapped into focus, violently jolted into his body with a small gasp.
Nina... Crying and crumpled in a pool of her own blood. He falls to his knees beside her.
"Nina?! Nina. What happened?!" A far cry from his usual monotone, his voice sounds conpletely horrified. His throat feels tight, his heart pounds fast in his chest. He puts a hand on her back and looks around for evidence of what's occurred. Blood, a chair, tools on the counter, a vial of liquid.
Torture.
He looks down at her again, afraid to touch her and hurt her more.
"Show me where you're hurt."
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It was agony, hearing him shout like that - too used to the monotone. Maybe she should have been pleased he sounded like a person, for once, instead of some dead, emotionless machine, but the price wasn't worth it.
"No." She murmured, and it was stupid to even try and hide it. She had nowhere to go. She needed help, even if the help came at the hands of the man who had inflicted the wounds. Sort of. "Just call for help and go. You don't need to be here." She lifted her head so he could hear her speak, revealing the acid burning her hand, the blood on her lips and chin, and hints of the wounds on her chest. The broken arm was, well, fairly obvious and difficult to hide in any position, hanging lamely at her side against the tile. "I'm sorry."
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"No. I won't leave you."
His voice is gruff even as his throat still tightens and strains against the possibility of tears. He pushes down his emotions enough to be able to act. He quickly examines what of her he can see. An acid burn, blood from cuts, a broken arm.
He gets up swiftly, grabs baking soda and water with trembling hands and mixes them, then kneels again to pour the solution on her hand. The neutralizing effect should grant her instant relief from much of the burning. He spots one of the sources of the blood- a wound on her shoulder- and presses healing energy into it with his palm. It should relieve a bit of the pain and stop most of the bleeding. There's likely a first aid kit somewhere in this house, but he doesn't want to leave her here to go look for it. Her arm will be a terrible ordeal; he'll have to set and splint it somehow. Unless they go to a clinic...? His mind races.
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"Jeritza-" She almost warned him not to look or even touch the wound on her shoulder, knowing full well the nasty brand she carried now. That awful, obvious indication that the Death Knight was there and had laid claim to her - a warning for the both of them that this was only the beginning. Nina did not regret her choice to let him torture her, but she was very much regretting this very moment.
Gods, her fucking head hurt. Her eyelids fluttered. Too much blood on the floor that should be inside her; the taste of metal in her mouth; her entire body aching worse than the time she fell off a fucking castle wall and landed on nothing but solid earth. "I need a doctor. I won't - I won't tell them it was the Death Knight. I promise. You'll be safe."
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He's panicking slightly. The way she says his name tugs on his heart. But he can't break down now. He has to deal with this, take responsibility for this, even though it's something he would never even think of doing...
Thankfully he doesn't notice the brand yet, obscured by so much blood.
She says she needs a doctor, and she's right. She's lost too much blood, and at the very least, she needs IV hydration and a strong painkiller. Two things he doesn't have. Her pain is hurting him... He's never felt that way before.
Think, Jeritza, think. He looks down at his hands, which are covered in blood. If he carries her into a clinic, what will they think? What story will they tell them? Will he be recognized and incriminated immediately, regardless of what they say?
It doesn't matter. He won't let her die, and he won't let her suffer needlessly. He can deal with whatever happens to him, so long as he knows she's okay.
"Okay. I will take you."
He helps her to sit up against the cabinets. Then he removes his own sweater.
"I need to tie your arm up. This will hurt."
He gently, but quickly, bends her broken arm up against her chest so it won't fall or hang painfully as he carries her. He ties his sweater around her snugly, to hold the arm in place. Then he lifts her. He'll walk to the end of the street and call a cab from there, so no one knows exactly where they came from.
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"Motherfuck-" she growled as he adjusted her arm. Far less painful than the actual break, but no less awful now that the adrenaline has worn off.
Nina took a deep breath to steel herself as he lifted her, slumping against his chest once he started walking. Few and far between were the moments when she felt so helpless, so awful for what she had done - not even to herself. "Thank you." She murmured, relatively silent for the duration of the trip there, listening to the rapid thud of his heartbeat.
Cw suicidal ideation
He sits on the curb at the end of the street with her in his lap and summons a cab with his device. As they wait, he looks down at her face, but it's so pained and bloodied he can't bear to keep his gaze there. He knows his alter well, knows how horrible he is and what he does to people, and the fact that she's bearing the brunt of it makes him feel awful.
He stares into space, disassociating, though Death Knight isn't anywhere near. His alter hates this kind of task. It's completely against his nature to care for someone like this. Jeritza's brain simply needs to put distance between himself and this situation, these feelings.
Helpless. He did everything he could think of to keep her safe from him, and none of it made any difference. This wasn't his fault, and yet it is his burden. What is he going to do now? How can he possibly keep her safe when the danger is inside of him? He wishes she would kill him (still unaware of death's impermanence). Perhaps he should do it himself just to end this. The world would be far better off without him, objectively.
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But he was so... soft. So sweet. Too gentle for all of this. Nina felt the tears falling again and tried her best to press her face to the crook of his neck, to draw herself close even if it hurt. "It's okay. I'm okay." She would be. She had to be. "You don't have anything to be sorry for anyway - I did this. I let him do it just like I said I would. I won't let him hurt innocents if I can avoid it, and I'm not going to let him keep making you suffer for his shit." A beat. "You weren't supposed to see it. I'm sorry."
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So she enabled this. Allowed it. Perhaps even asked for it. It makes him feel a little better, that she wasn't snatched up against her will in fear, but it doesn't absolve all of it. Would this just happen again and again? Would he constantly wake up to her being hurt so that the city could be safer? The thought of it makes his heart ache. Tears begin to brim in his own eyes, and his breath shakes slightly. These strange and terrible feelings he's never had before threaten to overwhelm him. It was all easier when he pushed people away, kept them at a distance so they would be safe. It was so painfully lonely. He was sad all of the time. But is this any better?
He lowers his face down to kiss her forehead. One of his tears falls onto it. He rests his cheek against it.
It's all so broken.
"I don't want you to be hurt," is all he can choke out. His voice is small and sad and almost childlike.
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"I know." She admitted with another sigh. "But it's worth it to make sure everyone is safe. To make sure you're safe." She wished she was smarter or knew more about helping people with their problems- but this was all she could do. Use her body to endure so no one else had to - or, at the very least, no one else had to die. "I'm sorry, Jeritza. I'm so sorry you had to see this - I just don't want someone to take you away, toss you in prison for crimes you don't even commit. If I have to suffer for it, then I will."
"I know that's probably not what you want to hear. I understand if you won't forgive me for it either."
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"I forgive you. I will figure something out... A better solution... For now, rest."
Their cab soon pulls up, and he holds her in the back seat. The driver glances at him with fear and anger. When they arrive at the clinic, he pays double what the fare is and apologizes for the blood. As he rushes her inside, he tries to think of what to say. He found her on the street after an assault...?
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Nina was struggling to maintain consciousness once settled in the cab and in his arms, the rocking of the cab almost lulling her to sleep despite the pain.
Then she was moving again, grunting as she tried to figure out where she was suddenly. Doctor? Right. She could almost feel Jeritza hesitating. "Found me injured in the road." She muttered. "They've seen me before." With wounds also inflicted by the Death Knight, but she hadn't even namedropped him then for whatever reason. A desire to fight him again, maybe. Who even knew.
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can wrap soon ithinks
yuh we can end here