tampered | (no subject)

(no subject)

When; Monday night/Tuesday morning, after this thread.
Rating; PG-13; because hey, half demon, unconscious nun, worried girlfriend... of the demon, not the nun. I think Esther's brain might possibly explode.
Characters; Nero (

rev_it_up) and Esther (

lefeufollet) and Kyrie later on (

sing_my_faith)
Summary; So Esther got knocked unconscious by a crazy sandwielding ninja who likes to think he packs around his dead mother in a gourd. Nero? He's just out for a late night stroll.
Log;

So this whole missing an arm thing? A week later, and it still sucked. Oh sure, he'd worked out the whole balance issue, and sure, he'd stopped surging in and out of his devil trigger form, and sure, the wound had healed over, and he was far from helpless - even without the devil bringer, he still had a sword, and a gun. And a hell of a lot of attitude to back them both up.

Still. He wasn't gonna whine over it. He'd get it back eventually, if he had to stick a sword through Vergil's head and cut it off with a freakin' pocket knife, he would.

But whatever. He wasn't out walking so he could dwell on it. He was out walking to get some air. Clear his head. Maybe saunter down into the underground and hack up a few monsters. The red queen fair sang for blood.

But he smelled it first. That cold, metallic twinge that bites against the back of your teeth when you breathe it in. And his senses told him, ahoy magical demonic tingly feeling, that somebody'd been killed here. Recently. Oh Shit.

His hand went to his sword, and he flickered over into his devil trigger form. The glowy blue figure behind him, at least, still had an arm, and Nero knew how to use it, too. He was walking on the balls of his feet, alert and itching for a fight (he hadn't been in a serious once since losing his arm) when...

Esther?

...

Yeah, that crumpled little pile of red hair and habit was definitely Esther. He didn't run to her side - he was too wary for that, alert and looking around. Was it a trap? Esther would make good bait for half a dozen fairly powerful people, Abel and himself included. Instead, he kept his trigger on, though it flickered with the effort to do so, and walked towards her fallen form with sort of a sideways cant. He made it to her side unharmed, stabbed his sword into the ground next to her, and turned her over. Checked her breathing, vitals. Alive, then. Concussed? The mark on her head would certainly lend itself to a concussion, but damned if he was anything approaching a doctor.

"Ah, shit, Esther, c'mon, wake up."

Because yes, Nero, shaking the person with the head injury is always a good idea.

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There was something boring into her skull. Esther wasn't sure what it was, nor how it cam about, but it was there and it irritated her, to say the least, a slow dull ache gradually sharpening with time, accompanied by an awkward pounding in her ears, and a coppery scent hanging in the air. And it got worse, because for some odd reason the world chose to begin shaking shortly afterward, Esther's head rolling slightly and her not having the strength to even attempt stopping it.

A hiss slipped through her lips as she tried to cover her eyes with her arm. Darkness helped dull the pain, just a little.

"...top," she murmured, voice mostly caught in the back of her throat. "Stop."

And stop he did, with a slightly sheepish twitch.

"Esther. Christ. What happened?"

He was torn between either holding her up or reaching again for his sword. In the end, compassion won out over practicality, and he pulled her awkwardly against his chest. Maneuvering anything, even a tiny, scrawny girl, was a bitch with only one arm.

It took longer for her thoughts to process, once Esther had gotten over the initial shock of the pain. Everything was murky, thoughts and movements alike, and before the actual words registered, Esther began to recognize the voice, taking slow, deep breaths before relaxing against the warmth of Nero's chest. She hadn't realized how cold she'd been until there was something to compare it to.

"N... Nero?" Esther tried desperately to put the pieces together, but it felt as though she were trying to mentally ram pieces of a puzzle together without regard for which ones actually fit. In other words, not much of a success. "Where...?"

Couldn't even manage complete sentences, it seemed.

"About," he supplied, relatively unhelpfully, trying to haul her up to her feet without doing too much more damage. If she could walk, great - if not, well. Carrying her slung over one shoulder would be dangerous, wouldn't it? Head injuries were always bad. Pretty much no matter what. She was small enough that he could probably pack her with one hand if she'd put her arms around his neck so she didn't lose her balance.

"D'you feel nauseous at all?" Count the ways in which he's gleaning what he can from the medical field training that he paid absolutely no attention to. There was nausea, and ... it was important to keep them awake, wasn't it? Or something? Shit.

Kyrie. Kyrie would know. She'd sure as hell been around to treat his injuries often enough.

"What happened?"

Her eyes opened when she felt her center of gravity shift once again, knees weak and unable to provide much support at all as she felt her feet meet the ground, and in her panic, Esther's hands grabbed tightly onto Nero's coat. Once she'd managed to maintain some type of balance, Esther's mind shifted to the next thought. Nauseated. Did she feel nauseated?

She let a small groan be her answer to that.

Next. What happened? Good question. One which Esther didn't really have a satisfactory response to, and thinking was just too much effort at the moment, Esther's gaze turning to Nero's face as her brows furrowed with the effort it took to focus.

"I don't... remember, really."

Her eyes felt too heavy then, and so Esther let her head drop to Nero's shoulder, leaning against his body as she closed her eyes, letting herself drift off. It was easier than concentrating on the pain.

That sounded like nausea to him, all right. If she vomited on him, Abel was footing the dry-cleaning bill. Not that he thought this was the priest's fault or anything - it was just a standard sort of MO he'd developed. If you can't blame Abel for something, you can at least shake him down for gold buttons.

"Hey, hey, hey! Enough of that!" He pushed her away enough to shake her again. He had a feeling if he let go of her shoulder she'd fall down. Man, he'd kill to have his other arm back. This was a lot more complicated than it should have been.

"If you fall asleep, I'll kill you. C'mon. Esther, can you walk?"

"...ut it hurts," Esther replied, cringing again as the world decided to move--or was it Nero shaking her? She couldn't tell. "Just... need t'close my eyes."

Ah, but then it suddenly occurred to her that maybe Nero was annoyed because he had other things to be doing, as always seemed to be the case, and surely helping her stand or keeping her awake--was she supposed to be studying for a test?--wasn't the most enjoyable activity ever.

"You can go, y'know," she added, head tilting slightly before she rested it against his arm, again. "Father'll come, maybe. Or Dietrich."

"That's what happens when you get knocked in the head, idiot. You didn't answer my question. Esther. Can you walk?"

He stepped back from her again, and tilted his head so he could get a better look at her face, and her eyes. Did enlarged pupils mean anything bad? It was dark, and he didn't have any light or anything, except-- well...

He put a little bit of effort into it, flared his trigger one more time. The ensuing light should have been enough but nope. Completely nonreactive.

Shit. "I'm not leavin' you anywhere. C'mon." He crouched down, rather awkwardly, and scooped her up. Heh. Barely heavier than his sword.

"Wrap your arms around my neck so you don't fall off, dumbass. I can't balance you like this."

Oh, and now she didn't have to worry about her knees anymore, apparently, because she was sitting on something... rather uncomfortable, but it was better than standing by far, and so Esther did her best to nestle in Nero's arm before obligingly wrapping her arms around as best she could. Not quite sensibly enough to actually clasp her hands together, but it was probably better than nothing.

"'m sorry, Nero," she murmured. A burden, she suddenly remembered, how everyone called her that. And well, she was being one again. Nevertheless, she had to admit that sometimes, being able to lean on someone else felt nice. "'ank you."

She nuzzled her nose against his neck, briefly. Ah, someone else had held her like this before, hadn't they? Mm.

But before she could think too deeply into it, Esther began to drift off to sleep, breathing evening out as her head slumped slightly, resting on his shoulder.

He shrugged, rather violently at that, intending on knocking her in the head again.

"Don't pass out, dumbass." He set out at reasonably fast pace. His apartment wasn't too far from here - he'd been on the return circuit, and Kyrie would know what to do.

"C'mon, tell me about, uh, this Dietrich guy. You've mentioned him before. What's he like."

Esther yelped when she was jarred awake rather suddenly again, one of the arms around Nero's neck slipping as she clutched her head--if there'd been any thoughts there prior, there certainly weren't any left, now. What was... going on?

Oh, right. Dietrich. Uh.

"Dietrich's... kind. Watches out f'me."

"That right. He always sounded like an asshole when you mentioned him before." He shifted her weight, just enough so that it didn't feel like she was gonna topple over. "Uh, what about..." And the source of the latest curse comes to mind.

"What about your parents? Let's talk about them."

Nevermind that this was a potentially painful subject, as it seemed to be for a lot of people in the City. Sometimes he had to wonder if they were being pulled from home on the basis of having one or more violently dead relatives. Christ.

And she was a nun at a young age, which probably meant orphan or at least parents that just didn't give a crap.

Oh well. Question asked.

Esther tilted her head slightly to get a better look at him, lips pulling thin as she shifted in his arm. She didn't really want to talk about this, didn't want to be there, and even if it possibly meant falling painfully--something which didn't even register in her mind at the moment anyway--she wanted to curl up under something for a moment.

"Dun have any. Lemme go."

"Well then you think of something to talk about, genius. I ain't good at this kinda crap."

At least he was keeping her from going to sleep. He figured that was the important bit. "And if I let you go you'll... I don't know, get eaten by a mutant squirrel or something. Christ. You look like you got nailed in the forehead by a whack-a-mole mallet or something, Esther."

He was near enough to his building now that he could see the lights from the windows, and he looked automatically for the place he shared with Kyrie. He couldn't be sure she was awake - but then, she'd always waited up for him in the past. It was one of the things he loved about her.

Mutant... what?

Esther's face contorted again, this time with confusion, all thoughts of her parents--or lack thereof--pushed to the background as she tried to wrap her mind around mutant squirrels. Did such things exist?

She'd never seen a mutant squirrel before.

Come to think of it, hadn't seen any squirrels at all since, well... somewhere back on the Empire, with Seth.

"What...?"

"You know. Radioactive. Probably out for blood. Creepy red eyes, possibly the size of a terrier?"

He'd gotten to his building, now, and pushed the door open with his hip. Definitely taking the elevator. He didn't want to jar her more than he'd already done by bouncing up a flight of stairs.

This really wasn't helping her head, and, perhaps stupidly, Esther began knocking her forehead against Nero's shoulder because nothing was making sense--and ow--other than the pain.

"Like Tres' size?"

Terriers were dogs and Tres was a dog. Logical train of thought, right? Maybe.

"I don't know the guy," he told her, punching in the floor number after waiting an abominably long time for the elevator doors to open. "But Abel compared him to me once. Or me to him. I can't remember. One or the other."

This entire conversation was nonsense. Total bullshit. He might've laughed, if he felt up to the task. Instead he turned his head away from Esther and smothered a yawn against his shoulder.

It occurred to him, as the doors opened at his floor, that maybe he should have taken her to a hospital. So sue him, it was never his natural inclination to trust people of the medical persuasion.

"Compared you to... our dog?"

Once again, Esther's mind felt impossibly slow, the synapses in her brain not sending messages quickly enough as she rested her chin on Nero's shoulder--it was easier to relax now that he'd stopped moving or trying to shake her. Why was there a need for such forced conversation, anyway? Instead of talking about things like this, Esther would've preferred a nap. In her nice bed--

"Wait. This isn't... my place."

She blinked at the unfamiliar--or well, at most vaguely familiar--surroundings.

Riiiiiight, he'd forgotten about the dog. ... and he sure as hell hoped Abel wasn't comparing him to one of those, or he'd have Words with him of the 'hey talk to my gun' variety. Not that he'd mind that much. Dogs are, after all, known for loyalty.

"That's because it's mine. Chill out."

And he made it through his door in one piece, too, and called for Kyrie.

She'd heard the door open and the heavy sound of Nero's footsteps before he'd called for her. His tone, though, as he'd said her name made her put down the towel she'd been using to dry her hair, padding out into the hallway.

"Nero? Is--" She stopped as soon as she spotted them, looking from Nero's expression to Esther's rather dazed one.

"What's wrong?"

"Your place?" Esther asked, confused--although now, it made more sense that the place seemed familiar, she supposed. But why was she here, and-- and Father would worry if she stayed over, wouldn't he? Had they planned some kind of sleepover? Or, was she supposed to have come over in order to bake cakes with Kyr-- oh!

Esther blinked at Kyrie, the smiled, laughing lightly.

"I'm sorry for forgetting about the bake caking session, Miss Kir-- Kir-- eeay."

Nero felt the urge to facepalm. Boy, did he ever.

"I didn't get her drunk, Kyrie, I promise," he said, mostly keeping the mood light for his own benefit - and hers. In a lower voice, and as he headed for the couch, he continued. "She got into some kind of trouble. Not sure yet. She was unconscious when I found her, I think she's got a concussion. You know how to check for that stuff, right?"

And in this regards, Nero was only too willing to take the back seat to Kyrie. He stood back from Esther, having set her down gingerly, and in a gesture he suspected was going to become a habit, draped his left hand over the empty socket of his right shoulder. The one-armed equivalent to folding your arms.

The small smile that flickered over her features was brief; she appreciated Nero's ability to try and keep situations light. He'd been doing it for as long as she'd known him, and if he hadn't Kyrie would have worried even more than she already was. A situation serious enough to prevent Nero from making even a small joke was not one Kyrie ever wanted to be in.

"Mmm." Bending over Esther Kyrie's hands were gentle and cool as they ghosted over her cheeks. She craned her head, checked for blood in the ear canal, in her nose. There was some dried around her nostrils. Kyrie's mouth thinned, looking at Esther's eyes as her fingers skimmed lightly over her scalp, behind her ears and over her forehead, looking for sensitive areas, bruising that might reveal a fractured skull.

"Can you get me a cup of water, a damp tissue, and a bag of ice wrapped in a towel, Nero?" She made the request without looking at him, and when she addressed Esther it was in a quietly careful voice. "This might sound like a silly request, Esther, but do you suppose you can extend your arm straight out and then touch your index finger to your nose?"

Whoa okay. Whoa, whoa. This was awkward. Kyrie was... looking up her nose, and-- wait what was going on? ...her nose, mind. It wasn't like looking into her eyes or eying a weird outfit. Was there something hanging from her nose? Why was Kyrie looking up her nose? Esther had half a mind to edge away because this was all kind of creepy, but fortunately, the question Kyrie posed was enough to distract her, again.

Very short attention span.

"Uh..."

Esther stuck her arm out abruptly, then quickly drew it in, the side of her index finger hitting the inner side of her cheek. Could have been considered to have touched her nose in passing, Esther thought.

"Like that? I'm... confused."

Nero gave Kyrie a nod and a faint smile. This was old hat. How many times had he packed new recruits home and had her look them over? More than he could count.

...

And wow, that made him sound old. He'd been one of those new recruits, once upon a time - and even at nineteen, most of what he considered a 'new recruit' was still someone older than him. Headtrip.

The first two requests were easily filled enough - and he brought those first. A damp cloth and a glass of water, as ordered, he didn't say, though Kyrie'd be able to tell his deferential amusement by his raised eyebrow and slight smirk. He returned to the kitchen for the ice tray, grabbed a pot out of the cupboard and retreated into Kyrie's bedroom to steal a pillowcase and whack the ice into smaller pieces with the pot. His logic, Let Me Show U It. That accomplished, he wrapped the case around the smallerish pieces of ice and returned to the living room, holding it out for Kyrie silently.

Definitely a concussion. Kyrie took the damp cloth and dabbed at Esther's nose, a task she would have left to the other girl had she been confident that she would have been able to do it. Her coordination was clearly effected by whatever had happened to her.

"Thank you, Nero." Though she took the ice from him she didn't use it yet, balancing it in her hands with the slightly bloody and still damp cloth crumpled in her palm.

"May I ask what happened, Esther?" She had a feeling that the girl didn't remember, as it was one of the symptoms of a concussion, but she thought that there might not be any harm in asking.

Edited 2008-05-06 10:15 (UTC)

She tried to shake her head, not so much as a reply to Kyrie's question but certainly as an attempt to deter her from whatever it was that she was attempting to do. If Esther's nose was dirty, she could get it herself! After all, she was already eighteen--right? right--years old and the last thing that she needed was another person mothering over her when she already had Father Abel. Besides, Kyrie was wiping her nose. It wasn't such a hard thin to do.

Esther wiped her nose with her sleeve afterwards, pouting.

"I dunno," she muttered, sulking and tempted to cross her arms--whoa balance. "Lotsa... mmm."

She looked at her habit, at the bloodstains in the fabric, then pointed at them.

"Blood?" It wasn't really an answer, but it had more been a test to see if her memory had been effected by whatever had happened to her. And it clearly had.

Kyrie's instinctive reaction was to take Esther to a doctor, or someone that could profess to having more experience in this area than Kyrie did. She'd tended to several of the young soldiers that Nero had brought home, but all of those injuries had been fairly mild. And she'd always insisted they see a professional afterward.

Which is certainly advice she will be giving Esther, once she's certain the other girl will listen and not forget the request. There's not much they could do at this point, anyway--nothing that Kyrie herself couldn't do, in terms of making sure she rests.

"Where would you say it hurts most?"

"My head, but."

Yeah, the thoughts were still jumbled.

"I'd rather sleep right now."

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