cain. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
blyat) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
meadowlarklogs2019-02-03 11:40 am
blyat) wrote in meadowlarklogs2019-02-03 11:40 am
Entry tags:
(no subject)
WHO: Cain & Giovanni.
WHERE: Their tiny apartment.
WHEN: September 11, directly following the event.
WHAT: Getting used to living together & coming home to lick their own wounds.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Possible descriptions of violence/injuries, blanket potential for Cain's foul mouth, prob not much else.
[The apartment is empty by the time Cain returns, sun beginning to cast its blazing hot presence across the city. A quick stride across the main room and he pulls the black-out blinders shut tight in preparation for the new day. Everything plunged into cooler shadow, he sighs, shucking off the sweat-drenched shirt overheard to leave him standing in center of the tiny kitchen in pants, boots, and gloves alone. A lucky toss hangs the shirt off the edge of his bedroom doorknob when he throws it, to be cleaned later.
There's not much space to move around: one main living area, crammed half-kitchen, two individual bedrooms without much more than a bed and dresser, narrow bathroom only large enough for a toilet, sink, and shower stall. The size doesn't bother Cain, little to his name beyond the meager possessions of daily living. With one other person, there's enough privacy for them to coexist, and in truth he's seen little of Giovanni since their initial first move-in introduction. That's fine by him. They don't get in each other's way.
Two full-sized first aid kits rest underneath the kitchen sink for either of their necessary purposes, considering the nature of their income-gathering needs. He'd learned Giovanni also participates in ring fighting, although they've yet to cross paths as opponents. Cain splits his time between fights and a new job, each relying on the physical health of his own body in its ability to perform both manual labor and take a hard hit from someone's fist. The enduring night against the UNA soldiers, at least, proved he's managed to keep himself up.
Never mind why he decided to throw his lot in with a bunch of heroes, anyway. He keeps his thoughts deliberately off that track.
At the sound of the door, Cain leans hips back against the counter, cradling a glass of whiskey with an ice pack pressed against his chest. Waiting for what is most likely his roommate to appear and curious for his condition.]
WHERE: Their tiny apartment.
WHEN: September 11, directly following the event.
WHAT: Getting used to living together & coming home to lick their own wounds.
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Possible descriptions of violence/injuries, blanket potential for Cain's foul mouth, prob not much else.
[The apartment is empty by the time Cain returns, sun beginning to cast its blazing hot presence across the city. A quick stride across the main room and he pulls the black-out blinders shut tight in preparation for the new day. Everything plunged into cooler shadow, he sighs, shucking off the sweat-drenched shirt overheard to leave him standing in center of the tiny kitchen in pants, boots, and gloves alone. A lucky toss hangs the shirt off the edge of his bedroom doorknob when he throws it, to be cleaned later.
There's not much space to move around: one main living area, crammed half-kitchen, two individual bedrooms without much more than a bed and dresser, narrow bathroom only large enough for a toilet, sink, and shower stall. The size doesn't bother Cain, little to his name beyond the meager possessions of daily living. With one other person, there's enough privacy for them to coexist, and in truth he's seen little of Giovanni since their initial first move-in introduction. That's fine by him. They don't get in each other's way.
Two full-sized first aid kits rest underneath the kitchen sink for either of their necessary purposes, considering the nature of their income-gathering needs. He'd learned Giovanni also participates in ring fighting, although they've yet to cross paths as opponents. Cain splits his time between fights and a new job, each relying on the physical health of his own body in its ability to perform both manual labor and take a hard hit from someone's fist. The enduring night against the UNA soldiers, at least, proved he's managed to keep himself up.
Never mind why he decided to throw his lot in with a bunch of heroes, anyway. He keeps his thoughts deliberately off that track.
At the sound of the door, Cain leans hips back against the counter, cradling a glass of whiskey with an ice pack pressed against his chest. Waiting for what is most likely his roommate to appear and curious for his condition.]
no subject
The loneliness hits hardest of all. The force of that collision drives him into memory of his own isolation, the day to day distance from his fellow soldiers, the superficial lie of each moment. The fear of never leaving it. The fear of losing that barest connection of skin and bodies.
And then his hands withdraw, bloody and shaky, and it ends. Wounds mended and stitched, towels saturated by the mess, a heavy layer of silence painted in the air.]
Good.
[It's the only word Cain can summon to his lips. Even that sounds quiet, shaken both by what he's seen and felt in Giovanni, what he's heard, and by his own reaction to it. Like he's swallowed bits of glass, and now his throat's filling up with the blood and pain of it.
He stands and grabs the whiskey bottle, setting it down on the kitchen counter with a jostle of amber fluid. His fingers leave sticky smears on the neck. Disappearing into the bathroom, he leaves Giovanni there on the table.
Make no mistake, he'll be back soon to check on him. For now, Cain places his concentration into the efforts of clean-up -- it's going to be a long night.]