http://notflynn.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
notflynn.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
tampered2010-07-29 08:37 pm
notflynn.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2010-07-29 08:37 pm
wish us all goodnight }{ closed
When; A little over 24 hours after this
Rating; PG
Characters; Yuri Lowell [![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
notflynn], Flynn Scifo [srslynotguy], and Euphemia li Britannia [deadly_legacy]
Summary; Flynn wakes up.
Log; Yuri had been by Flynn's bedside for the full 24 hours in which the dead remained dead. He cleaned off most of Flynn's wounds, washed off the dried blood and changed him out of his armor and top (and, no, he hadn't been shy to strip the knight down and clean his legs, too).
He had his visitors from time to time, and of course he appreciated their company. It was a momentary distraction from the corpse on their sheets, the smell that he endured despite having to vomit because of it at its most potent. He remained mostly in that room, not once sleeping. He couldn't possible sleep, not now of all times, not when Flynn could wake up at any moment.
For the most part, he simply sat there, hand holding Flynn's, waiting for the clock to strike and a twitch of muscle, a groan- anything to indicate that Flynn was all right. But so far there was nothing, just a coldness and stillness.
He tried his best not to think about it. When he did, the emotions unpacked themselves, and he just wanted to punch something, cry a little, to hunch over and become such a messed up thing that he wasn't (he was strong, had always been strong). So he concentrated on other things, remained blank. He had to wait. All he could do was wait.
Rating; PG
Characters; Yuri Lowell [
notflynn], Flynn Scifo [srslynotguy], and Euphemia li Britannia [deadly_legacy]Summary; Flynn wakes up.
Log; Yuri had been by Flynn's bedside for the full 24 hours in which the dead remained dead. He cleaned off most of Flynn's wounds, washed off the dried blood and changed him out of his armor and top (and, no, he hadn't been shy to strip the knight down and clean his legs, too).
He had his visitors from time to time, and of course he appreciated their company. It was a momentary distraction from the corpse on their sheets, the smell that he endured despite having to vomit because of it at its most potent. He remained mostly in that room, not once sleeping. He couldn't possible sleep, not now of all times, not when Flynn could wake up at any moment.
For the most part, he simply sat there, hand holding Flynn's, waiting for the clock to strike and a twitch of muscle, a groan- anything to indicate that Flynn was all right. But so far there was nothing, just a coldness and stillness.
He tried his best not to think about it. When he did, the emotions unpacked themselves, and he just wanted to punch something, cry a little, to hunch over and become such a messed up thing that he wasn't (he was strong, had always been strong). So he concentrated on other things, remained blank. He had to wait. All he could do was wait.