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Who: Wrathion & Anduin Wrynn
When: End of February
Where: 325 Midwich Street
What: Anduin's Bad Arm is now Anduin's Missing Arm
Warnings: Discussion of amputation, experimentation, general surgery related trauma, and probably more...

Wrathion skulks in the shadows of the house, waiting for Anduin's chosen surgeon to leave.

Anduin had sensed his uneasiness, he knows, with the whole... predicament. His being sent out to buy things was nothing more than a ruse to get him out of the house.

Which he did not like, but... admittedly... he wasn't helping.

Once Erwin leaves, Wrathion slinks around and lets himself in through the back door. The shopping is set down on the kitchen table and he hesitates, begins to move to softly pad around the room.

He emerges a long few moments later with a warm mug in his hands, stands and stares into the living room, trying to breathe slowly.

The scent emanating through the house is... unpleasant. Antiseptic. Signs of surgery, and his mouth feels dry. His tongue presses against his teeth, and for a moment he thinks about fleeing entirely -- setting down the drink and just removing himself from the situation. He doesn't like the way it makes him feel, the tension, the way his heart races. Doesn't like to feel afraid.

He'd feel worse if he knew Anduin had suffered without him.

Stepping forward, Wrathion pauses by the couch Anduin is laid out on. The steaming mug in his hands smells of lemon and ginger.

He considers Anduin a long moment, then slowly holds out the mug for him.

"You look terrible."

Perhaps not comforting, but honest.

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The last few hours have been some of the most traumatic Anduin has experience in his nineteen years and considering the things he'd been through, it's saying a lot. He's no stranger to pain, the whole ordeal with Garrosh had introduced Anduin to that and for the rest of his life after, but needing to have an arm removed definitely put things in a new light.

Thank the light that what Anduin assumes is the worst has now passed. He's nowhere near comfortable, his arm constantly blaring it's pain with the beat of his heart. It's almost overwhelming and the young King can feel cool sweat beading his brow as he tries to calm both body and mind. The pain he can deal with, it would eventually fade and Anduin knows ultimately it had been the right decision; the "arm" he'd been given had been turning necrotic and would have claimed his life eventually. But despite knowing that, Anduin's thoughts are still turbulent. How would he explain this when they got home? How would he be able to fulfil his role as King of Stormwind if he only had a less dominant hand? It turns Anduin's stomach just thinking about it. The fact he cannot change it before they find a way home gives little in the way of comfort.

He gives a heavy sigh, instantly grimacing as a flash of pain steals his breath. Anduin had forgotten his arm was gone, instinctively reaching up to rub his forehead only to hurt himself in the process. This was going to be arduous and Anduin rubs at his face with his left hand. He'd been struggling as King before arriving here and now this? At what point was it meant to get easier? How could any of this be fair?

"I know."

Anduin removes his hand from his face, giving Wrathion a wan smile as he reaches out to shakily take the offered mug. He's thankful the other had gone to the store during the whole ordeal and Anduin swallows thickly. "Thank you."

As to if it's for everything or for the drink is up in the air for now.

Wrathion hovers beside Anduin still, hand hanging in the air ready to either snatch the mug back if he loses his grip or tape it if he decides he's done and can't hold it any longer.

"Did you take something for the pain?"

Does he need something else? Although Wrathion wouldn't quite know what, in this world, would be a strong enough painkiller to combat the pain of losing an arm. He hesitates, moves his hand to brush back Anduin's fringe and feel the heat radiating from his clammy forehead. He may not be a trained healer, but Wrathion at least knows what is and isn't normal for Anduin Wrynn. He knows what was suggested to him, in Pandaria, while he was healing. He can attempt to help, and if nothing else he can read up around common healing techniques used by humans with no magical talent. There has to be something he can do to help him be more comfortable, even if he cannot... address the core problem here.

Even if he cannot give Anduin Wrynn back his arm.

"I did, though my understanding is that it will be painful even with them."

It feels like the understatement of the year. Anduin has only felt pain like this once before and even that pales in comparison to the events of the last day. Every little movement Anduin makes sends flares of brightly coloured sparks across his vision as the pain swiftly kicks him, reminding him that he technically offered to have this done. This was a result of his own actions and there was no enemy or perceived threat he could pin it on.

Only himself.

The touch at his forehead gets a small hum as Anduin focuses on keeping the cup steady. Being crushed by something doesn't quite compare, that's for sure and when he looks back up at Wrathion he can almost see the concern there.

"Do not worry, my temperature will go down soon. That arm was turning...necrotic for lack of better wording. Had I not gone through with this it would have killed me." Anduin isn't sure who he's trying to convince; Wrathion or himself?

Wrathion blinks once, processing this information.

Necrotic. Anduin potentially dying from it.

The facts are ones that he knew, yet to hear it out loud -- stirs something. He feels a wave of unease, of nausea. A pressure in his head. Why is that? The thought of Anduin dying? The medicinal scent in the room? He frowns, distracted a moment by the colliding thoughts, then draws his hand back.

"Of course."

He links his fingers behind his back, forcing them steady. In Pandaria Anduin had already been healed of the worst of his injuries by the time Wrathion saw him. He had lingering pains, yes, was slow on his feet -- such things are to be expected after his near death experience, after the shattering of his bones. Yet Wrathion had never seen him at his absolute worst, and now he cannot wonder if it was like this. If it had been worse, even, after the initial impact. Had he cried out, as the bell hit him? Had pain wrecked his body as he was carried to Lion's Rest?

This train of thought is not helping.

"Perhaps bathing in cooler water would help with the heat?"

If Anduin can manage it, that is.

What must Wrathion be thinking right now? Anduin cannot tell, the dragon seems to be keeping his emotions close to his chest right now. There's concern there but something else and Anduin isn't sure if he wants to know or not. Perhaps it's pity; the young King wouldn't be able to blame Wrathion if that was the case, he knows he must look as awful as he feels right now.

Right. Drink. Keep it upright.

Anduin finds it alarming how easy he seems to forget his arm is now gone despite the work to remove it. He wants to hold this cup and rub his forehead, wants to bury his face in his hands and just grit his teeth at the frustration of it all. This place keeps kicking them when they're down and what was next? He's been turning it over in his mind and at first glance there's little rhyme or reason to it all. How can they predict the next attack if there was no pattern?

He takes a deep breath, doing his best to reign in the panic rat that gnaws and thrashes around in his mind. No, this won't do. He will just have to work harder, to double — no, triple check everything they have and more. There would be a pattern, it would just take work in finding it. For now though, Anduin will have to focus on getting better. It's just difficult when the most easy and mundane tasks have suddenly become all the much more tricky.

Much harder to do if you're dead.....

"Bathing in cooler water would more than likely help, however I feel the effort I would expend on such a thing outweighs the benefits." Basically getting in and out of the tub will be too much of a chore, especially when the slightest movement right now hurts so much. "I fear I have now become a bit more of a burden on everyone here."

"Feeling clean would make you feel better."

A carefully worded point. If Anduin feels sweaty and uncomfortable he will no doubt feel worse about everything else. Perhaps the whole notion of moving to bathe, etc, is too high a bar though. Something easier, to begin with?

He consider Anduin a long moment, eyes skimming over him steadily.

"You will need to be more careful."

After all, he can already imagine what Anduin is thinking. That he'll need to compensate for his arm, to somehow work harder, somehow help people more than before. That will not do. Anduin is missing an arm, he is more vulnerable than he was before. Less able to fight. More likely to be injured again, or perhaps worse. His reasoning, no doubt, being duty and training perhaps several moral arguments on the matter. These people, however, are not Anduin's subjects. The closest thing to that here is Wrathion himself, and he has no interest in invoking that.

It would make Anduin feel a little better, but he knows he would need assistance with that and right now the idea of asking Wrathion for more help galls him. Wrathion has done so much for him in this place, asking for more right now would feel too much and Anduin is already making a note to at least get to the sink later on.

"I know, my ability to defend myself has significantly lowered. Do not worry, I have no intention of being careless." Not that it did much good the last time around, that attack had happened in the night without any warning they had been aware of....

Anduin pauses to take a sip of the drink, sighing quietly at the nice warmth it brings. It's a tricky enough motion and there's the tell-tale sign of a hand shaking, though Anduin manages to avoid spilling the tea. For now.

"You will need to be careful also. Whatever this place is doing, I fear it is escalating."

"I am always careful."

Wrathion is not taking feedback on this point.

He holds out a hand to accept the tea back if Anduin needs a break from holding it, eyes dragging up and down his prone form.

"It seems whatever sympathy Harding had for us is not enough to have him turn on his keepers. I fear the number of people we can expect help from grows smaller by the day."

Even in the circle of their so-called fellow captives, Wrathion does not trust every one of them. Not because he anticipates malicious behaviour or betrayal, necessarily, it's simply that not all of them know how to be cautious. How to keep things to themselves, to judge the temperament of those they speak with. Even if they mean well, that is not enough -- and when lives are on the line Wrathion is going be as selective as he pleases with who he speaks to.

"I suspected as much, even if there are those who feel sympathy towards us I doubt they will do much about it. Not when those who pull the reins in this place exert power so easily."

When the enemy could do such things on a whim, time and time again, Anduin knows that there may be those who would be reluctant to help for fear of reprisal. He feels a shred of sympathy for them though ultimately Anduin knows he would be wasting his time; standing by and constantly watching these things happening is not the way to win anyone over.

The cup is slowly handed back, Anduin grunting a little in pain with the motion. He supposes everything is going to hurt for a while but it'll pass, it has to. It's just difficult to hold on to that hope when every slight movement causes it to hurt. He would give anything for a healing spell right now!

Since Wrathion believes he is being careful then Anduin will have to take his word for it, he doesn't have the capacity to be checking up on the other for the time being and the blond gives a slow nod, almost as if to himself.

"....Don't do anything brash. We are both aware of how swift this place can be in it's actions."

Wrathion's fingers close around the cup and he draws it back toward himself, brow pinching in thought.

"I believe," he says carefully, "we should limit out public associations."

He knows Anduin may not like this -- he's never been fond of actions that feel like hiding or admitting defeat -- but Wrathion...

They're being watched, he's sure of it now. His association with Anduin is potential leverage over both of them, leverage neither of them can afford the risk of. Leverage Wrathion especially cannot afford to have utilised. He's come far too close once already.

"What?"

Anduin isn't even certain what he just heard coming from Wrathion, but it certainly wasn't what he'd expected. Limiting public associations? Even in his pained state Anduin can't help but shift, pushing his feet down against the arm of the couch as he pushes himself into more of a sitting up position. Just that simple act hurt like Hell, his shoulder area burning in it's protest and yet the change in position is needed in order for Anduin to stare closely at his friend, expression just a little uncertain.

Limiting associations sounded awfully like hiding.

"Why would you believe that to be the better course of action?"

Hmm.

Anduin will need leading up to the point, it seems.

"Were you surprised they cut your hair?"

A mild enough question. He reaches out to rest the tea on a nearby table, eyes still running up and down Anduin's form thoughtfully as he shifts. He shouldn't be moving around so much, but telling him that seems like a wasted exercise. He knows, but he's stubborn. Sometimes the only way to learn a lesson is to burn yourself. They both lean that way, on occasion, over their own particular troubles.

The question gives Anduin pauses and his eyes flit with uncertainty to the side. He'd been surprised they had done such a thing at first, such a seemingly stupid and inane thing to do to someone who was being held captive. But since returning Anduin has had time to give it thought and he knows the meaning of it; they were not only being watched on the network but judged by their conversations on it too. It is easy enough to point out that his hair will grow back, but Anduin knows that the meaning will remain.

"Yes, it is very blatant a message to be sending, if anything I consider it their mistake to be making."

Why would they do something that would clue everyone in to the fact they were being watched? Surely the strategy would be to keep that on the downlow? Anduin opens his mouth to ask that before pausing. This isn't what Wrathion is alluding to, he shall have to save it for later.

"I believe that we need allies here, how could we avoid others who are in the same predicament as ourselves?"

"I'm not asking you to avoid them."

It was a specific request, related to himself. He folds his arms, raises an eyebrow questioningly. Wrathion isn't entirely comfortable with just telling Anduin what he's thinking -- there's layers of complication to it, after all. Things that feel too... revealing, that he isn't ready to express yet. Not only that, but if it's only his words Anduin can argue. Better to lead him along, let him puzzle it out and in the slow process think about it.

Not asking him to avoid them? Then what?

Had Anduin not been so concerned over the last twenty-four hours he would have instantly picked up on it, but for the moment he silently mulls it over, eyes narrowing in thought. If he wasn't asking that then.... No, it was too far-fetched an idea. Was Wrathion really suggesting such a thing or had the pain simply confused Anduin into hearing things that weren't there?

By this point it's truly hard to tell and Wrathion will be able to see the moment the ask actually sinks in as blue eyes widen, Anduin clutching his side with his hand subconsciously.

"Are you saying it is us that should be avoiding each other?" Even saying it out loud feels ridiculous and Anduin's voice rises just that bit higher at the end of the sentence.

Wrathion doesn't verbally confirm, but his impassive acceptance of the statement says enough. That is, in fact, exactly what he's implying.

"How many people have you told of our association?"

That they're from the same home world, knew each other before they came here? It would be good to be aware of who already has that knowledge, people who are already a lost cause in that sense, and who they can still keep it from. Controlling the information will be important.

"What? No one really, it was not my place to tell. I believe only James Mace and Daylight...."

Wait, was he seriously answering this? Anduin knows it won't make a bit of difference if they hang out, go dancing down the street or avoid each other. This place would keep on doing what it was doing regardless and Anduin's brows are already drawing together in a frown.

"Wrathion this is ridiculous. You truly think that things would be better if we did not associate? And asking how many people I have told, as if I was yelling it for all of this world to hear?"

Even as Anduin says those words a sense of dread sinks in to his chest. His captors had been asking questions and he'd been answering them, but Anduin isn't even clear in his own mind what they had been, or if there were some questions he wasn't remembering yet. There had been the intention to bring it up after his arm had been dealt with but now....

"I refuse."

Wrathion clicks his tongue in irritation, flicking his eyes away. Of course Anduin would be stubborn about it.

"In public," he repeats.

If it truly was only James Mace and Daylight things might be... manageable. They could limit it from there on out, make sure nobody he didn't need to know had access to the information. Mace -- well, they couldn't be sure what had happened to Mace. Perhaps their captors had him now, perhaps he had been killed. Daylight he at least trusts, he may as well know. Certainly he had a steady head on him, a good sense of pragmatism.

Of course, in public.

How Anduin wished he could be more like his father in this instance, to simply argue and throw a piece of furniture at his friend in a rage. Having patience and understanding often felt infinitely harder and right now was no exception. The whole thing smarted, rankled Anduin from two different directions. On the one hand it almost felt like giving this place what it wanted; sowing discord and weakening alliances. Sure, they would only be on unspeaking terms in public, but how much work would they have to do to cover such things up?

The second direction was just that bit more personal and something that made Anduin's stomach sink. Wrathion was doing this right now. Was that intentional, to get him at his weakest so he would not have the energy to disagree too much? Anduin doubts it, Wrathion is not that harsh, but the thought remains there all the same.

"In public."

Anduin sighs and rubs his face with one hand, inwardly counting to ten as he tries to gain some kind of understanding as to what is going on. The hair comment...did Wrathion truly believe that the conversation had something to do with it?

"What is it you wish to achieve with this?" There's very little of the shock and annoyance in Anduin's tone, if anything it's all the more worse in the simple fact it's his "on duty" tone. Maybe if he can understand Wrathion's angle it will make more sense? It's that or simply telling Wrathion to get out.

Hmmm.

A question best answered with more questions, Wrathion thinks. Something to lead him toward again.

"Once your injuries are healed," he prompts, "what do you plan to do next?"

Anduin, no doubt, believes he will be 'careful' but also desires to interfere. He cannot leave anyone to suffer, he wants everyone to be saved. Wrathion suspects that the Wrynn version of 'careful' is different to most everyone else's. Anduin will no doubt end up putting himself in danger. It's... frustrating.

A question answered with a question. For some reason Anduin can feel his patience once again threatening to wear thing at it all. What he would give for someone to just spit it out, to talk normally and not dance around whatever the subject is. There are enough who do that in Stormwind, Anduin has very little taste for such things and he wonders how long before he simply tells Wrathion to get to the point.

Wrathion knows what Anduin wants to do.

"Once I am able to get back on my feet I shall be helping find a way for everyone to get home. What else would I be doing?"

Anduin purposefully leaves it vague, eyes once again narrowing in suspicion. It's almost as if Wrathion wants him to say something that would prove a point and between that and the constant, throbbing pain at his side, the young King is tempted to just tell his friend to get out and come back when things weren't so inconvenient.

Naturally.

Wrathion taps his fingers against his arm, a twitch of agitation as he thinks.

"And do you imagine you will not be targeted again?"

That working to help people will draw no further attention to him? That he will -- for want of better terminology -- get away with only the damage he has?

It seems unlikely. Unease roils in Wrathion's stomach again, nerves clawing at it from the inside. It's always been hard to talk Anduin down once he gets a stubborn idea into his head, and he's never really had cause to need to -- the stakes have never been as high. Here, though, Anduin is missing the wood for the trees -- and the timing is... difficult. There's still so much they haven't said.

"Everyone in this place is a target, Wrathion. It will remain that way until we get home."

Anduin doesn't believe he's being singled out in this place; he's certainly had his fair share of incidents but overall whatever this place is doing seems to pick at random. Wrathion is making it sound like there is some kind of vendetta, that should Anduin step outside he will be instantly struck down by whatever this town threw at them next and just the idea of it has the young King huffing to himself.

What is this conversation really about?

"I cannot sit idle out of concern for myself." Losing an arm is debilitating and painful, Anduin has no doubt that things are not going to be easy from here on out. But what was the alternative? Let this place scare him into doing nothing? It would be akin to surrendering....

"You believe I should be doing something different?"

Tch.

"I'm asking you to think strategically."

Which he knows Anduin Wrynn is capable of. He's not a fool. Wrathion's tongue works against his teeth again, trying to work out how to guide him.

"Consider," he says, "a worst case scenario. Our connection is known to everyone, including our aggressors. You and I continue to work against this place. We have some success, they decide to intervene. They want to threaten one of us. What do they do?"

If their connection is known, that's leverage. It's a weakness. Wrathion cannot have that -- surely Anduin understands? That vulnerability is too powerful for him.

Think strategically. Anduin resists the urge to sigh again, it's difficult to think of much at all with the way his shoulder aches and throbs. He wants nothing more than to simply try to get through that, to possibly catch some sleep on the couch and hope that getting to the bathtub later goes without issues.

But then there's Wrathion, obviously intent on doing something. What was it though? A reaction to what has been happening? Did he truly believe that them not talking in public would be best for everyone? Anduin knows that if this place wanted to get to either of them it would make the other an easy target, but by this point would it change much?

"I understand. Though I do implore you to also consider; those who work against us in this place would already be aware of our connection. That and everyone here is a target, regardless of who or what we know. Just by being here we make ourselves susceptible to whatever whims this place has. I do not believe that ignoring each other in public will do much to dampen that, and who is to say that these houses are secure enough for us to talk away from others?"

Anduin chews on his lower lip as he thinks his way through it. He doesn't believe this will help, it feels more divisive than anything and in a way Anduin feels that history is almost repeating itself. Wrathion is thinking of the Greater Good again, some bigger picture that Anduin probably isn't seeing and once again Anduin is finding himself on the back foot.

"Not again.... If you wish for us to no longer converse or such in public, or even acknowledge each other then by all means. But know that I find your plan ill timed and I fear it will change little." Anduin's voice is terse, strained and not only because of the pain that has him clenching his teeth against another wave.

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