[His voice is a lot smaller now. He feels sick again. He swallows. He doesn't have the stomach for the medical stuff, not really. Killing Demons... sure. But there's something about sewing people up or breaking bones to twist them into different positions that makes him feel woozy.]
(well, it seems like she managed to get through to him because all of a sudden he's lost a little of the confidence he had before. abby feels bad for doing that so abruptly but he has to know what he's up against. not knowing that is exactly what got him into this situation in the first place.)
Thank you.
(she softens a little, her brow creasing in worry.)
... It'll be okay. That's just a worse case scenario, Lev.
[The reply is disengaged, automatic. The adrenaline is wearing off and now he feels cold, dampered by Abby's words. It was easier to keep going when he thought everything would be okay.
He wishes Abby hadn't said the worst case scenario because now it's all he can think about. His face feels oddly warm and the rest of his body rather cold and tingly. There's sweat on the back of his neck. He keeps his mouth firmly shut and tries to breath through his nose.
Perhaps part of him regrets asking to walk but he'd chop his arm off before admitting that.]
abby's eyes don't leave his back as he keeps walking, and, tellingly, he starts to sag a little on one side, his pace slowing.
god, he's only a kid. has he ever broken a bone before? they haven't swapped a lot of stories about scars; sometimes he asks, about any he spots on her arms or legs. she hasn't asked about his face, because she has a feeling he wouldn't want her to. maybe he'll tell her about them in the future, or maybe he won't, and either of those outcomes are just fine by abby.)
[He hasn't. He's somehow managed to avoid a lot of injuries despite the world they live in. Perhaps because he's young enough to have been shielded from most of the world's dangers.]
I'm okay. [His voice sounds far away. He has to work to keep it steady.] Are we almost there?
Yeah. We're almost there. (they're making slow progress, but it should only be a few more minutes. she can see where they're going from here when she lifts her head, but her attention snaps back to lev within moments.
look, abby is trying very hard not to swoop in and scoop him back up, off his feet; as it is she's watching him like a hawk just in case he drops.)
Lev– (her voice spikes with exasperation as she hastens to keep up with him. he still looks like he's about to fall over if the wind blows him too hard in any direction, what the fuck. he should be slowing down.)
Take it easy, kid. We have time.
(nowhere else to be. nothing chasing them. all that abby has to worry about is the boy walking with purpose ahead of her.)
[He knows Abby can sense his distress. It's the good and bad part of being together all the time. They know everything about each other, they can sense when even the smallest thing is out of the ordinary.
Suddenly he's aware of just how much his body aches. His wrist may be what's broken, but his entire left side hit that fridge with force.]
I'm just tired.
[He knows she'll see through the lie but he says it anyway. Like maybe thinking of it that way makes it easier to cope.]
(yeah, she can tell. but she isn't going to call attention to it or correct him otherwise because she can tell that he's trying really hard. abby respects that. even if it makes her worry for him.)
We're nearly there.
(she's going to jog up ahead of lev really quick and scope the area out, make sure she can't hear anything from the inside of the nearest house as they both approach. it would be just their fucking luck to stumble on a hoard or something equally as horrible but– it's completely silent, out here. most of the windows here are broken. good sign. no spores.
she reaches out, and twists the door handle experimentally, and then puts her shoulder to it with a shove when it doesn't give. it only takes a few, rough shoves to get it open with a splintering of wood.)
(her voice is soft; she recognises that statement for what it is, what it means. his wrist is resting on his stomach and she lifts his arm so carefully, at his elbow and at his hand to try and keep it straight. it's already swollen up. abby curses under her breath. she'd been hoping for a bad strain.)
Well, it isn't compounded. (that's good news. she can wrap it up and get him to rest and after that– well. it'll be one day at a time, just like it always is.) I'm gonna go find something to splint it, okay?
[It doesn't bring him as much comfort as it does to her. But he's trying so hard to keep a brave face that he hopes it doesn't show.
But then she talks about leaving and he suddenly feels sick, afraid, and like all the shadows at the edges of his vision are creeping closer. Threatening to swallow him up.]
(oh, he's worried. she can tell by the slight furrow of his brow. it's almost imperceptible, he keeps this kind of stuff so close to his chest, but abby knows him, now. she knows how to spot his tiny tells. she lowers his arm really gently back onto his stomach, and reaches out to card a hand thoughtfully through his hair.)
I just want to get it splinted up and secure before you fall asleep, so you can rest without jostling it. Okay? I'll be thirty seconds, tops.
(she'll be as quick as possible. she doesn't miss the significance of him letting her touch his hair.)
Out loud, okay? Wanna see if I can come in under time.
(the other room abby's chosen is, thankfully, a bedroom, and has pretty much all of what she's looking for. old blankets in the cupboards, stacked up high.)
I don't know if you know this about me, Lev, but I'm kind of competitive.
(also, she's trying to distract him, and it's working! he's playing along. she hustles back into the room, with her armload of sheets. couple old pillows balanced on top, coat stand tucked underneath of her arm. she's gonna go ahead and dump it all at the foot of the couch in a heap, triumphant.)
When I let you catch more fish than me? Yeah, it is.
(he's the better fisherman of the two of them and they both know it, but hey. abby also likes to razz. she pumps her fist at his mention of the time, then holds it out to him to bump.)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[His voice is a lot smaller now. He feels sick again. He swallows. He doesn't have the stomach for the medical stuff, not really. Killing Demons... sure. But there's something about sewing people up or breaking bones to twist them into different positions that makes him feel woozy.]
I'll be careful.
no subject
Thank you.
(she softens a little, her brow creasing in worry.)
... It'll be okay. That's just a worse case scenario, Lev.
no subject
[The reply is disengaged, automatic. The adrenaline is wearing off and now he feels cold, dampered by Abby's words. It was easier to keep going when he thought everything would be okay.
He wishes Abby hadn't said the worst case scenario because now it's all he can think about. His face feels oddly warm and the rest of his body rather cold and tingly. There's sweat on the back of his neck. He keeps his mouth firmly shut and tries to breath through his nose.
Perhaps part of him regrets asking to walk but he'd chop his arm off before admitting that.]
no subject
abby's eyes don't leave his back as he keeps walking, and, tellingly, he starts to sag a little on one side, his pace slowing.
god, he's only a kid. has he ever broken a bone before? they haven't swapped a lot of stories about scars; sometimes he asks, about any he spots on her arms or legs. she hasn't asked about his face, because she has a feeling he wouldn't want her to. maybe he'll tell her about them in the future, or maybe he won't, and either of those outcomes are just fine by abby.)
Lev? (her voice is low, concerned.) You alright?
no subject
I'm okay. [His voice sounds far away. He has to work to keep it steady.] Are we almost there?
no subject
look, abby is trying very hard not to swoop in and scoop him back up, off his feet; as it is she's watching him like a hawk just in case he drops.)
See that brick building, to the left? That one.
no subject
[He notices he's breathing hard. Why is he doing that. This isn't that difficult. He's run faster and jumped further but never struggled like this.
It just feels like he can't get enough air.]
I'll go faster.
[He pushes himself. Always. He never wants to be left unable to contribute. Or the reason to slow down.]
no subject
Take it easy, kid. We have time.
(nowhere else to be. nothing chasing them. all that abby has to worry about is the boy walking with purpose ahead of her.)
no subject
We shouldn't be on the streets like this. We're vulnerable.
[He's vulnerable. He can't use his bow without hurting his arm further. All he has is his knife. That means he's a liability.
A burden.]
no subject
I'm here. I can look out for the both of us, and– you can use a knife, like you said. Or a gun.
We're fine, okay? It's going to be okay.
no subject
[He knows Abby can sense his distress. It's the good and bad part of being together all the time. They know everything about each other, they can sense when even the smallest thing is out of the ordinary.
Suddenly he's aware of just how much his body aches. His wrist may be what's broken, but his entire left side hit that fridge with force.]
I'm just tired.
[He knows she'll see through the lie but he says it anyway. Like maybe thinking of it that way makes it easier to cope.]
no subject
(yeah, she can tell. but she isn't going to call attention to it or correct him otherwise because she can tell that he's trying really hard. abby respects that. even if it makes her worry for him.)
We're nearly there.
(she's going to jog up ahead of lev really quick and scope the area out, make sure she can't hear anything from the inside of the nearest house as they both approach. it would be just their fucking luck to stumble on a hoard or something equally as horrible but– it's completely silent, out here. most of the windows here are broken. good sign. no spores.
she reaches out, and twists the door handle experimentally, and then puts her shoulder to it with a shove when it doesn't give. it only takes a few, rough shoves to get it open with a splintering of wood.)
Over here.
no subject
It probably was.
Thankfully, there's a couch just past the entrance in the living room. Lev walks over to it and sort of collapses onto it.]
It's quiet here.
[He just says. To say something. As if by talking he can still act like he's alright.]
no subject
abby crouches down beside him, wrists on her knees.)
Can I look? I won't touch, I promise.
no subject
[Without saying: I trust you. His face is pale and he's trembling a bit but the message is loud and clear.]
no subject
(her voice is soft; she recognises that statement for what it is, what it means. his wrist is resting on his stomach and she lifts his arm so carefully, at his elbow and at his hand to try and keep it straight. it's already swollen up. abby curses under her breath. she'd been hoping for a bad strain.)
Well, it isn't compounded. (that's good news. she can wrap it up and get him to rest and after that– well. it'll be one day at a time, just like it always is.) I'm gonna go find something to splint it, okay?
no subject
[It doesn't bring him as much comfort as it does to her. But he's trying so hard to keep a brave face that he hopes it doesn't show.
But then she talks about leaving and he suddenly feels sick, afraid, and like all the shadows at the edges of his vision are creeping closer. Threatening to swallow him up.]
Will you go far? I can come.
no subject
(oh, he's worried. she can tell by the slight furrow of his brow. it's almost imperceptible, he keeps this kind of stuff so close to his chest, but abby knows him, now. she knows how to spot his tiny tells. she lowers his arm really gently back onto his stomach, and reaches out to card a hand thoughtfully through his hair.)
I just want to get it splinted up and secure before you fall asleep, so you can rest without jostling it. Okay? I'll be thirty seconds, tops.
no subject
[He usually wriggles away when she ruffles his hair. But this time, he lets her, and even leans into it. Just a little bit.]
Only thirty seconds. I'll be counting.
no subject
(she'll be as quick as possible. she doesn't miss the significance of him letting her touch his hair.)
Out loud, okay? Wanna see if I can come in under time.
(the other room abby's chosen is, thankfully, a bedroom, and has pretty much all of what she's looking for. old blankets in the cupboards, stacked up high.)
no subject
[He's not that mad though. But he does lean over to try and see if he can catch sight of her through gaps in the doors.]
no subject
(also, she's trying to distract him, and it's working! he's playing along. she hustles back into the room, with her armload of sheets. couple old pillows balanced on top, coat stand tucked underneath of her arm. she's gonna go ahead and dump it all at the foot of the couch in a heap, triumphant.)
Time.
no subject
I didn't know. Is that why you get sad when I catch more fish than you.
[He counts, looking at his fingers on his good hand, trying to focus on what he's saying instead of anything else.
Abby pops back in.]
Twenty-five seconds.
no subject
(he's the better fisherman of the two of them and they both know it, but hey. abby also likes to razz. she pumps her fist at his mention of the time, then holds it out to him to bump.)
Told ya. Use your good one.
no subject
[God she's so lame. Like, drop me off three houses down when I visit my friends sort of lame. But he loves her so much.
He raises a tired fist and bumps hers.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)