Trevor 'The Bear Situation' Belmont (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
miraclewhip) wrote2018-11-23 08:39 pm
miraclewhip) wrote2018-11-23 08:39 pm
Entry tags:
(for cryptsleeper)
[ He remembers- maybe about half of what happened last night. A little more, perhaps. He remembers the comments that initiated the fight. Vaguely remembers being dragged back to the inn. Remembers throwing cold water on his face to wake himself up to do the terrible fucking job of stitching himself back up that he found himself with this morning (if there was ever a chance to keep that fucking cut from scarring, well, he's gone and botched it).
And he remembers telling the fucking vampire things that he probably should not have told the fucking vampire. He doesn't remember the specifics but he knows that he said too much. More than he's told anyone in a decade maybe. All for the sake of a petty victory that he doesn't even remember if he achieved.
He's uncharacteristically quiet today, even for being as hungover as he is. He forces the almost-solid porridge down his throat when it's pushed in front of him. He drinks half the water that he was using to wash himself last night and pours the other half over his head to wake himself up after maybe an hour of sleep. He only interrupts Sypha's long, long 'discussion' when she stares at him for an indication that he's still awake. It's after that that he's dismissed to the back of the wagon, either because Sypha can't stand his presence right now or because she doesn't trust him not to fall off and end up tangled under its wheels.
(Can't blame her, being tangled up under the wheels of a wagon sounds better than being in his own head right now, even without the throbbing pain.)
He doesn't sleep, mostly because he's been told not to and he is, even more uncharacteristically, on his best behavior right now. The day is mostly uneventful until sometime in the afternoon, when a particularly foolish highwayman sees a wagon driven by a single speaker woman and tries to take advantage of the situation. He's driven off within moments, of course, harmlessly to both them and himself, and the worst that happens is that the horses are startled by Sypha's display and the wagon lurches to one side, knocking Trevor onto his side against the wooden floor. It's only after everything has been confirmed okay, once the horses are calm and they're moving again, that he places a hand to his lower chest. ]
Fuck.
[ It's warm. And damp. He's gone and opened his shitty stitches, hasn't he? ]
And he remembers telling the fucking vampire things that he probably should not have told the fucking vampire. He doesn't remember the specifics but he knows that he said too much. More than he's told anyone in a decade maybe. All for the sake of a petty victory that he doesn't even remember if he achieved.
He's uncharacteristically quiet today, even for being as hungover as he is. He forces the almost-solid porridge down his throat when it's pushed in front of him. He drinks half the water that he was using to wash himself last night and pours the other half over his head to wake himself up after maybe an hour of sleep. He only interrupts Sypha's long, long 'discussion' when she stares at him for an indication that he's still awake. It's after that that he's dismissed to the back of the wagon, either because Sypha can't stand his presence right now or because she doesn't trust him not to fall off and end up tangled under its wheels.
(Can't blame her, being tangled up under the wheels of a wagon sounds better than being in his own head right now, even without the throbbing pain.)
He doesn't sleep, mostly because he's been told not to and he is, even more uncharacteristically, on his best behavior right now. The day is mostly uneventful until sometime in the afternoon, when a particularly foolish highwayman sees a wagon driven by a single speaker woman and tries to take advantage of the situation. He's driven off within moments, of course, harmlessly to both them and himself, and the worst that happens is that the horses are startled by Sypha's display and the wagon lurches to one side, knocking Trevor onto his side against the wooden floor. It's only after everything has been confirmed okay, once the horses are calm and they're moving again, that he places a hand to his lower chest. ]
Fuck.
[ It's warm. And damp. He's gone and opened his shitty stitches, hasn't he? ]
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[There's a bandage on Trevor's chest now, being held there to staunch the bleeding and to make sure the flesh heals correctly. This won't be another scar.]
In the middle of the daylight.
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[ Believe it or not, he has a lot of feelings about people being pushed into this line of work before they're old enough. Who could possibly guess why. ]
-what do people even do at that age?
[ Because he was already a full blown disaster. ]
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And there's a terrible realization.]
I...actually have no idea, I don't think I'm a good sample of the population.
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[ He motions to himself. ]
-Already this fucker by that age. That's probably not normal.
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[Dear God they're both disasters.]
Maybe Sypha knows?
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[ He does up his shirt, because he does actually dress himself sometimes. ]
You said you were making cake. What do you owe Sypha for this time? [ Last time he made cake, it was because he put away a book she wanted to read on a shelf she couldn't reach. ]
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You might be underestimating the young man.
[But back to the important thing, and that's cake. Which means walking over to the hearth first and checking to see how strong the fire is.]
Nothing. There was an overabundance of berries and the milk's about to spoil. I may as well use the ingredients up.
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[ That's what he calls 'stealing berries' now okay. ]
For tonight?
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[And he has a confession.]
For tonight. And I might interrupted a bath earlier today.
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[ Sypha won't even remember. But he always does this, tries to make up for any slight he's made against her ten times over.
He loves them. And he's determined that they know it. It's sweet. ]
She'll have forgotten by now, you know. And she'll see the cake tonight and you'll have to remind her what it's for. It's going to be hilarious. For me. And embarrassing for you.