̶W̶R̶A̶T̶H̶I̶O̶N̶ (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
blackscales) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
logsville2021-03-09 05:27 pm
blackscales) wrote in logsville2021-03-09 05:27 pm
[ ACTIVE / CLOSED ]
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.
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.