Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Day Six-Ninety-Two: Dredging up the past

(Note: Slight technical issues. Image forthcoming.)

People in comas are creepy. You know that? Damned creepy.

I came close to living in a coma. Back when all this shit started to go down, The Baron... I dunno... infested me with something. A part of himself. For several months I felt like absolute shit. I had no energy, I wandered the castle in a constant, restless stupor... there was always a voice in my head, telling me what to do, forcing me to stay put and not go anywhere... half the time I couldn't control my own body. Might as well have been a coma. I looked as shitty in the mirror as Dragomir does now.

Dragomir's head is wrapped in a bandage, not dissimilar to (but much cleaner than) the one on Traveller's face. It covers and binds the wound on the back of his skull, and gets changed once a day so the festering bump can be cleaned and aired out. Kinda makes him look like a mummy. I'd find that funny if it didn't also mean that he's, y'know, in a coma.

I'm kinda worried. Comas are bad. I'm no doctor, but I'm pretty certain that comas are bad.

I'm no good at healing people unless you hand me a Potion or a Tonic or a what-have-you, so I decided to take a mental route with Dragomir. I figured putting him in a situation from his past that he might recognize would, perhaps, stir him back to wakefulness. Soooo, with permission from Libby...

... I had a picnic. And Dragomir, his wife, and his boy were all invited. 

We brought the Dauphine to a stop at midday. The air was warm and breezy, the clouds just numerous enough to feel comfortable without threatening our outing with rain, the patch of grass I chose nice and dry and level. With some help from Traveller we hefted Dragomir out of the Dauphine and set him in a lawn chair Libby whipped up especially for the occasion. He had a nice view of the plains.

Seating herself on the rough-spun picnic blanket beside Fynn, Libby chewed on a cheese sandwich as she watched her husband. She looked... and still looks... exhausted. "This cheese tastes bad."

Biting into his own sandwich, Fynn stuck out his tongue and nodded. "Yep. We need a new cook."

"You don't cook cheese, hun. Besides, Morris is doin' the best he can." Pausing, grimacing, Libby reached into her mouth and plucked a white hair from her teeth. "Though he needs to clean that fuckin' kitchen. Remind me to yell at 'im later."

"Yes, mom." Fynn looked to me, sitting across from them. "So you had an idea? For dad?"

I nodded, peering over at Dragomir. He was laying back on the chair, head lolling gently from side to side, eyes fluttering, mouth dripping saliva on his shirt. His posture looked really... perverse, I guess I'd call it.

"Well, get to it, then," Libby ordered, though not harshly. "Let's see the miracle kid at work."

Shaking my head, I gradually wandered over beside Dragomir. Along the way I loudly commented on the warmth of the day, adding that the snow wasn't enough to spoil a good picnic. I pointed out mammoths that weren't really there, mentioned that the castle walls needed repairs, wondered if the soldiers in the barracks below us were hard at their training, and ho-hummed over my upcoming wedding.

Fynn looked at his mom. She just shook her head and shushed him.

"Yeah, the wedding," I said, circling Dragomir's chair. "Crazy, eh, Dragomir? I'm so damned young and I'm already getting married! lol! My dad's out of his mind, don'tcha think?"

Dragomir flinched. A long, burbling fart rumbled out of him.

"Lovely." I waved a hand in my face. "So... yeah... the wedding! Coming up in a few... months...? Gonna be wild. Really wild. And the bride, well, hell, she's... she's just..."

Though I wasn't facing her, I felt Libby stiffen behind me. One row of teeth grinded against the other.

"... just peachy. Hey, look! Dragomir, look! There she goes! Right over the wall! She's cutting that mammoth's head off!"

I curled an arm around Dragomir's neck, propping him up and pointing at nothing in particular. "Look, Dragomir! It's Eve! Your little girl! She's, ah, she's butchering that poor mammoth! Great picnic, eh? Great?"

Dragomir's eyes rolled. For the briefest second I thought for sure they were going to open, and, gods willing, see the past for at least a few seconds. Even if it meant taking him back to a picnic that was not terribly successful. It's the only really strong moment I can think of between Dragomir and his daughter, sad as that sounds, and if anyone can bring Dragomir back I think it's Eve.

His eyes didn't open. His head drooped. After a few moments, I sighed and went back to sit beside Libby and Fynn. Libby glared, but she didn't comment on the mention of her estranged daughter.

"Let's stay out here a bit longer," Fynn offered. "Maybe the air will do him good."

It didn't.


Logan the Useless

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