It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.

[westin-sagert.livejournal.com]

[Late evening of Wednesday, April 21 (day 325)]
[Approaching one's goal, or the end of one's rope, in the less reputable part of town]

It was the soup spoon, oddly enough. An accidental jostle of the draining rack while I was washing up after Sunday dinner, and I saw it start to fall and reached out on simple reflex to catch it easily out of the air. And then I stood in the kitchen for a moment, looking at it and turning it slowly between my fingers, which did not tremble or break.

I know--I have known quite well that the dreams are only that, even a shared phantasy is still only smoke and mirrors, but they have affected me quite strongly; I have been haunted by the uncanny clarity of the memory of my hands burning and shattering, and the lost and crumbling words of Bethlehem. And sometimes I will wake in the night and I am unwilling to reach for a light, out of fear that touching something will make my hands fall to pieces. I can certainly keep my home and person presentable, but my movements and grip have become taut and awkward when I pay any attention, as if I feared (so foolishly!) that whatever I was touching would turn to hot brass and sear me to the bone.

But I am well again, I have been since I reached my agreement with Morningstar. I know this, and while I am certainly willing to grant that there are things I do not fully understand, that does not excuse such unthinking and unnecessary avoidance of my calling. A man may accept that he does not possess the sum total of all knowledge without being reduced to a superstitious coward.

I have nothing to fear from dreams.

And it has been months since I worked properly on something.

So I have nerved myself to come out, and come looking for raw material. The streets south of my home are pleasant enough for a short distance, but as you go further and towards the west, a certain dilapidation grows. If I do not find someone, then there will be other nights--perhaps during the weekend, Market always seems to bring in rather a crowd--but I am rather optimistic.

[Open as discussed]

Comments

[westin-sagert.livejournal.com]

"I saw you and Damien there, as Doctor Constantine and I were taking a walk," and could I not have better luck? He would have been perfect, I am sure... "We figured we'd offer our assistance. Looks like a head wound, better to get it fixed up, yes?"

"Oh, absolutely," I find myself saying. Well, he at least didn't see me strike him, and they were decently solid blows; this may prove manageable. "I am quite sure I could manage--" and I do believe I detect the slightest change in the mood of the entryway at that-- "but do come in." And I stand aside for them.

Damn it.

[docconstantine.livejournal.com]

Again, the figure moans, and I move into the line of sight as Mab explains that we were out for a walk together and that Damien looks to be hurt.

"Looks like a head wound, better to get it fixed up, yes?" Well, if that's not a lead in, I don't know what is.

"I am quite sure I could manage....but do come in."

That's all I need. "I am sure Damien appreciates the offer." I say with a easy smile, slipping in and getting my arm around Damien's waist, pulling his weight onto me. "Maybe you and Mab can look around and find me something to clean and bind the wound with?" I suggest helpfully.

"Damien, are you alright?" I ask, moving his hair aside and wincing at the mark on his temple.

[damien-dw.livejournal.com]

The sheriff and Mr. Sagert keep talking and I think that he's going to the let them in even if he's rather not. I hear my name but when I look up I see the doc moving in. I have no time to think about what it means that he and the sheriff were walking near by.

Doc comes right over and puts one arm around my waist and pulls me up, too fast for me to panic about it. Besides moving makes the pain worse, even such a small shift. I'm sure I make another sound at that as he asks, Damien, are you alright?

His other hand pushing my hair aside, I can feel the movement he makes as he looks at my face and hope it covers my flinch at his touch. "Hurts..." I say, "Hurts less if I don't move." I add. I hope he won't want to look at any other part of me. It's only my head that got hit.

[regal-vigilante.livejournal.com]

"Oh, absolutely, I am quite sure I could manage--but do come in."
Words are barely out of his mouth before Lucien is in the room, and moving to Damien's side and checking him over. I step aside to let the man work, and to surreptitiously glance around the room. I unconsciously tag the door and move closer to Westin when its suggested we get supplies.

I gesture Westin towards what I assume is the door into the rest of the house, and try to smile warmly. I intend to stay on his heels; don't think he plans to bolt, but why chance?

[westin-sagert.livejournal.com]

It is, I suppose, the mark of good breeding to handle such intrustions with dignity. I leave Constantine to handle Damien and head to the kitchen, with Sheriff Devarn following. "You might as well bring him in," I add, glancing back over my shoulder. I suppose the wound will need to be cleaned, and it'd be rather ridiculous to do it out here rather than in the kitchen.

How dare they. I unclench my fingers and smile politely at Devarn as I move to the sink and begin drawing water. "I suppose he could use a dishtowel," I say, and I am sure that Constantine might settle for such a thing, and the alley-walking lout deserves no better--

I force the smile back to my face and stand aside, back by the counter. The knives are to hand, although I sincerely doubt it will come to that. "Do you and Dr. Constantine often go walking, Sheriff Devarn?"

[docconstantine.livejournal.com]

Westin's bidding us come in further, and it's really the last thing I want to do, but Damien's complaining of pain and movement. "Alright, lets's get you to a chair, and we'll get you steadied before we go to the office." I tell him, moving slowly down the hall.

We get to the kitchen, and I set Damien down in a chair and Westin starts running water. I don't keep a sharp eye Westin, I leave that to Mab as I take the wet cloth proffered.

"Do you and Dr. Constantine often go walking, Sheriff Devarn?"

Dab at Damien's head gently, wiping away blood and grit. "I am often out late on calls, Mab often escorts me if her schedule allows." I lie easily enough, trying to get a look at Damien's pupils as I work. "Besides, every one in Excolo knows, the red-heads are the most dangerous. Better to walk with one than piss one off."

Damien starts when I touch him, and I steady him before he falls off the chair. "Hang in there, we'll get you home soon."

[damien-dw.livejournal.com]

Thankfully it isn't far and I get to sit down when we get there. The light in here hurts my eyes and everything's a bit blurry, so I let my eyes go almost closed. I can hear water running. There is a conversation going on above me but My head still hurts too much for me to pay attention to it if I don;t have to.
And the cold cloth on my head feels good. Except when he hits the edge of something and the pain spikes again.

Lucien, Doc, keeps me from falling out of the chair; telling me, Hang in there, we'll get you home soon.

I open my eyes a little more, look up at him through my lashes, whisper,"Thank you, Doc."

[regal-vigilante.livejournal.com]

"I am often out late on calls, Mab often escorts me if her schedule allows. Besides, every one in Excolo knows, the red-heads are the most dangerous. Better to walk with one than piss one off."
Smirk at that. Maybe I should actually start doing that- not that he needs my protection, but it'd be nice to know where he was most nights if there was an issue. And then there's nights like tonight- damn good thing he was out.

I stay out of his way, best to let the man work. I'd be happier though if he just took Damien and left, but it'd probably be far too obvious to Westin. Don't want to have him lash out until Doc has the kid steady. Besides, its far more enjoyable if I can goad him into dropping something.

"Looks like its a good thing for Damien here that you happened by. D'you know what happened?"

[westin-sagert.livejournal.com]

He explains the escort, then adds "Besides, every one in Excolo knows, the red-heads are the most dangerous. Better to walk with one than piss one off."

"I'm sure it's not actually that difficult to avoid upsetting a lady," I say dryly as he works. I could do at least as good a job, and it is hardly as if fine work was required, but having two men work on one head wound would be crowded at best. I am sure he will be adequate.

"Looks like its a good thing for Damien here that you happened by," Sheriff Devarn says. "D'you know what happened?"

"I was coming up the road," I say, "and I heard noises in one of the alleys. I stopped to look, and saw someone trying to dash his brains out on the wall, so I shouted and his assailant ran off."

[docconstantine.livejournal.com]

Mr. Sagert makes a dry comment about pissing women off, and I chuckle. "Ah, but you never know what the trigger is that will make a woman go ballistic." Turn enough to give him a easy smile. "For example, that poor boy you helped me with at the Abbey? Now he had a rather tempramental woman looking out for him. If she ever got her hands on them..." Shake my head and smile. "Well, I would actually pity that person."

Mab asks if he knows what happened. "I was coming up the road, and I heard noises in one of the alleys. I stopped to look, and saw someone trying to dash his brains out on the wall, so I shouted and his assailant ran off."

Here... how to play this? Wish I could look to Mab, but there's no time for hesitation. Look at him rather confused. "Really? Mab 'n I were coming back from a call over at the Deysher place, over on that back alley that connects with Keat, and I didn't hear you yell or see anyone go running. Sound carries really well down those alleys..." I muse, shaking my head again.

Turn back to Damien, and please GOD remember! "Do you remember anything Damien?" I ask, voice gentle. "Were you talking to anyone before you hit your head?"

[damien-dw.livejournal.com]

I look up as the sheriff says my name, and then Mr, Sagert is claiming to have stopped someone who was hurting me by shouting and that seems wrong. I want to frown but know it will hurt if I do. Doc seems to think the same as he says he and Sheriff Devarn were in the area and didn't hear anyone yell.

So of course he asks me about it using a gentle voice, Do you remember anything Damien? Were you talking to anyone before you hit your head?

This time I can;t stop he frown before it happens and I wince and put a hand up to my head. "Yeah...I was. But there was only...My eyes go wide as the memory comes back. The hand on my shoulder, and then in my hair. The pain. I look accusingly at Mr. Sagert.

"It was him! He--you hit me!"