05-27-2014, 03:32 PM
Natalie didn't open her eyes, so she missed the flash of a grin offered by the driver. Her temples ached, and the grate of the engine gnawed offensively as they began to move. Moroccan Embassy? She had no objections, of course, but it took a moment to realign her expectations to the reality. The seriousness of the situation painted itself in broad strokes, devoid of detail, though if the CEO of Legion Premiere deemed it necessary to attend she could well imagine the breadth of the conflict. Her own concerns lay closer than the affairs of a country; the flames spiralling from the hospital bloodied the back of her eyelids; the white gleam of a child's skull washed in an ooze of scarlet, his eyes rolling a frenzy. Despite her fatigue she itched to act. She needed to know what had happened at the school. What had happened to the rest of Masiaka.
She started to ask more questions, but snapped her mouth shut. One thing at a time. A violent smash against the window made her jerk before she managed to speak again, prying open a gaze that longed to sink into oblivion. "What kind of medical provision do you have? The boy has a broken hand. It's among the reasons we were at the hospital."
There was an edge of chiding to her tone, but not much; the legionnaires neglected to offer Ekene aid with good reason given that he had incapacitated one of their brothers, and Natalie did not blame the apathy of their oversight. Did not blame them for not noticing either. A contract only negotiated so much.
They had a medkit. No pain relief, but it would have to do.
Conflict sickened her stomach when she finally looked at Ekene, crouched as close as he could get to the car door, his features faintly ghosted with the wreckage he had left of Kofi. It was easy to read a lack of remorse in the selfishness of a child's imploring gaze, and the blackness of Ekene's eyes dwarfed his irises, offering a baby demon in the guise of a child. Brown blood rusted the darkness of his skin and stained his school uniform. Child's blood. Legionnaire blood. She protected a murderer.
Back at St. James she hadn't attempted to treat his hand because she'd wanted him to endure the pain of it. To suffer it, just as she'd intended him to suffer the consequences of what he'd done while his friend bled out on the front seat of the car. In hindsight her negligence seemed cruel; pain screwed the edges of his expression, blanched him grey. But between the first gunshots at the hospital and the arrival of the legionnaires, there had been no opportunity to try and help. She didn't feel guilty for it. Even now it'd be easy to shut her eyes, as every fibre of her spirit begged her to do, and let the child languish until she felt better able to help. Or let someone else do the job. Somehow her own weakness motivated her more greatly than compassion. She held out her palm flat to him.
He presented his hand cautiously. It was the first time she'd properly looked at it; in the back of her mind she'd assumed he'd hurt it falling in the school compound, but looking at the inflamed bruising now hollowed out some horrific doubts for new scrutiny. Her gaze flickered up to his, and though she didn't speak he must have caught the question. A scowl knitted his brow and he tore his face away, shunting his gaze down.
"It hurts. It hurts bad."
His anger was dulled by pain, and the words were brittle. Natalie frowned, felt her senses quest out instinctually; she did not know how to direct the energy to fix his hand, but she could at least dilute the pain. Only the glow of light dawning a horizon in her peripheral slipped evasively through her fingers, humming a warning against overuse that sparked stars. Tired frustration knotted in her chest; the defeat settled uncomfortably, but she let go before it consumed her. Her blood-stained braid dipped over her shoulder as she lowered her head to him instead, wisps of pale hair making a halo of her face, framing the intensity of her eyes. She was still frowning. "I'm not going to ask you now. But you are going to tell me who did this."
His face pulled further away.
Natalie did not have the expertise to set a splint, not when she had no notion of the breaks and fractures under his skin, but she cleaned the blood and dirt silently, and he grit his teeth and cursed and screamed every time she brushed against his fingers. The SUV rattled and her vision felt dull, though she tried to be gentle. The pain in her own skull had receded a little, like elastic snapped back on skin that had finally stopped stinging; she was relieved to find she was still able to concentrate, if the heavy tiredness of her limbs did not exactly make it agile work. She was no nurse, but she'd worked field hospitals enough to fashioned a decent sling, to tide him over until someone professional could look at it. Ekene didn't deign to speak to her after, just sunk back in his seat and watched the legionnaires warily through the rear-view mirror.
Natalie was content with the silence. It occurred to her several times during the remaining haze of the journey to ask the legionnaires' names, less for the sake of politeness and more for the knowledge. For some it might only be the incitement of a paycheck, but men who risked their lives in such places deserved the recognition whatever their motivation. The question never quite coalesced beyond thought, though she tried to hold on to it. After the brick against the window she didn't close her eyes again, but she tuned out, left her thoughts to blur the horrific images of the day. Let herself rest as much as she was able, before the death of the engine marked their arrival at the embassy.
She started to ask more questions, but snapped her mouth shut. One thing at a time. A violent smash against the window made her jerk before she managed to speak again, prying open a gaze that longed to sink into oblivion. "What kind of medical provision do you have? The boy has a broken hand. It's among the reasons we were at the hospital."
There was an edge of chiding to her tone, but not much; the legionnaires neglected to offer Ekene aid with good reason given that he had incapacitated one of their brothers, and Natalie did not blame the apathy of their oversight. Did not blame them for not noticing either. A contract only negotiated so much.
They had a medkit. No pain relief, but it would have to do.
Conflict sickened her stomach when she finally looked at Ekene, crouched as close as he could get to the car door, his features faintly ghosted with the wreckage he had left of Kofi. It was easy to read a lack of remorse in the selfishness of a child's imploring gaze, and the blackness of Ekene's eyes dwarfed his irises, offering a baby demon in the guise of a child. Brown blood rusted the darkness of his skin and stained his school uniform. Child's blood. Legionnaire blood. She protected a murderer.
Back at St. James she hadn't attempted to treat his hand because she'd wanted him to endure the pain of it. To suffer it, just as she'd intended him to suffer the consequences of what he'd done while his friend bled out on the front seat of the car. In hindsight her negligence seemed cruel; pain screwed the edges of his expression, blanched him grey. But between the first gunshots at the hospital and the arrival of the legionnaires, there had been no opportunity to try and help. She didn't feel guilty for it. Even now it'd be easy to shut her eyes, as every fibre of her spirit begged her to do, and let the child languish until she felt better able to help. Or let someone else do the job. Somehow her own weakness motivated her more greatly than compassion. She held out her palm flat to him.
He presented his hand cautiously. It was the first time she'd properly looked at it; in the back of her mind she'd assumed he'd hurt it falling in the school compound, but looking at the inflamed bruising now hollowed out some horrific doubts for new scrutiny. Her gaze flickered up to his, and though she didn't speak he must have caught the question. A scowl knitted his brow and he tore his face away, shunting his gaze down.
"It hurts. It hurts bad."
His anger was dulled by pain, and the words were brittle. Natalie frowned, felt her senses quest out instinctually; she did not know how to direct the energy to fix his hand, but she could at least dilute the pain. Only the glow of light dawning a horizon in her peripheral slipped evasively through her fingers, humming a warning against overuse that sparked stars. Tired frustration knotted in her chest; the defeat settled uncomfortably, but she let go before it consumed her. Her blood-stained braid dipped over her shoulder as she lowered her head to him instead, wisps of pale hair making a halo of her face, framing the intensity of her eyes. She was still frowning. "I'm not going to ask you now. But you are going to tell me who did this."
His face pulled further away.
Natalie did not have the expertise to set a splint, not when she had no notion of the breaks and fractures under his skin, but she cleaned the blood and dirt silently, and he grit his teeth and cursed and screamed every time she brushed against his fingers. The SUV rattled and her vision felt dull, though she tried to be gentle. The pain in her own skull had receded a little, like elastic snapped back on skin that had finally stopped stinging; she was relieved to find she was still able to concentrate, if the heavy tiredness of her limbs did not exactly make it agile work. She was no nurse, but she'd worked field hospitals enough to fashioned a decent sling, to tide him over until someone professional could look at it. Ekene didn't deign to speak to her after, just sunk back in his seat and watched the legionnaires warily through the rear-view mirror.
Natalie was content with the silence. It occurred to her several times during the remaining haze of the journey to ask the legionnaires' names, less for the sake of politeness and more for the knowledge. For some it might only be the incitement of a paycheck, but men who risked their lives in such places deserved the recognition whatever their motivation. The question never quite coalesced beyond thought, though she tried to hold on to it. After the brick against the window she didn't close her eyes again, but she tuned out, left her thoughts to blur the horrific images of the day. Let herself rest as much as she was able, before the death of the engine marked their arrival at the embassy.