damned_institute | Night 65: M71-M80 Hallway

[from here, after Lust leaves]

Soma only let the pillowcase of supplies sink to the ground when she reached Lingormr's door. Marie was still whirling busily in her head, throwing out possibilities and theories that made little sense to her. If anything, all that managed to do was make her feel even more ill.

It was impossible to hide the fact that even a trip as short as this one had drained her, and she barely had the energy to knock on Lingormr's door. "It's Soma," she managed, and forced herself to stay upright. She'd be doing enough lying around helplessly in a few moments as it was.

Loki had rather been dreading this, but there was little to do but forge ahead and keep his mind fixed on the ultimate goal. He opened the door for Soma, not even managing to give her a smile before moving back and waving her over to the bed that he'd re-made neatly.

"Come in, please. What did you find for the so-called clue?" he asked, then hesitated before adding, "And something rather strange has happened. I don't know what to make of it."

"I didn't really understand it," said Soma as she pulled the pillowcase inside with her. "There was a painting on the ceiling of a woman holding a man's decapitated head, and a pile of leaves on the ground. Mar--I think the painting's a reference to an old story about a prophet who got killed, but I don't know what to make of it as far as the clue's concerned."

Lingormr looked worried--not that she could blame him. Still, showing her own worry wasn't likely to do much good. A smile was beyond her at the moment, but she did her best to look determined, if not entirely confident.

"What happened?" She frowned a little. "Something wrong?"

Loki frowned. "I don't know of any paintings such as that, but it's very possible that it was made after my time. Perhaps tomorrow we can go over it in detail and then I shall see what might be divined." Though if it was a reference to a particular story, it would be difficult to find out more about it with the limited library available to them.

He took up the pillowcase that Soma had set down, assuming those things were for him. Before he answered, he took a moment to unpack it, arranging the things she'd brought for him meditatively.

Finally, he turned to her and extended one hand. An instant later, the carefully crafted illusion of a horse galloping (in miniature) floated in the air over his palm. He let it go for a moment before dismissing it. "I could not do that the evening before yesterday. Why can I do it now? But I can only bend light, nothing more. I don't understand it. Is this a common effect of... what happened to me yesterday?"

Soma nodded. "It's possible. I'm sure other people will have seen the clue by now. Hopefully they'll have some idea of what to do with it."

Lingormr began unpacking their supplies, and she was quiet for a moment, hating the tense silence but unable to think of anything especially relevant to say. Then he turned back to her, and she started briefly as a galloping horse appeared over his outstretched hand.

He'd said his magic was sealed off. Hadn't he? So... "I've never heard of anything like this happening before," she said at last. "Usually people have their powers reduced to begin with, not taken away entirely. If you got some of it back after Special Counseling last night..."

There were a number of possibilities, if she thought about it. "Maybe Landel made a mistake when he limited your powers again. That's the first thing that comes to my mind."

Loki nodded, not looking happy. "Perhaps. I hate to consider there might be some... purpose to it. My first instinct was to say nothing at all, because I do not trust it. But I thought it best to tell you, because..." he paused, shaking his head. "For many reasons. I fear letting it become common knowledge. I often received blame in the past for things I did not do because it was known I could cast illusions. Perhaps I am wrong, but..."

Hopefully that would be enough of an implication that Landel might be setting him up as some sort of scapegoat.

He sighed. "I just find this greatly disturbing. And of all the things I could be able to do again, this? I'd rather something more useful, like being able to heal. That would certainly be relevant." A hint of hopeless bitterness crept into his tone.

Loki opened the medical text books again, turning them to the pages he'd marked with scraps of paper. He shook his head. "I will have to attempt to give you an... IV. So let us do that first. If I can't accomplish that simple thing, it should warn us not to proceed."

Soma's frown deepened a little. Lingormr's hesitance was understandable, especially given his own description of what life for him was like back in his homeworld. Still, she couldn't help but feel a little frustrated on his friend's behalf. It wasn't like a lot of people trusted him to begin with. "And just about everyone knows you can do it now at full strength, given what happened last night. Do you think Landel might have done it on purpose?"

She had to agree with Lingormr about the usefulness of letting him have his illusions back, though. At best they might distract a monster for a few seconds, if anything. "How big can you make the illusions? It might come in handy during a fight, at least."

But any further discussion of that should probably wait until they had this over with. Soma sat down at the edge of the bed, taking a deep breath. Pulling off her shirt, she extended her arm and waited. IVs were straightforward and familiar enough, at least, and she was fairly sure she could assist Lingormr with what she remembered--at least until the actual surgery part began.

"The thought had crossed my mind, though the next question would be to what purpose, and I like that not," Loki said, after a moment of hesitation. "But I often wonder if perhaps I am overly paranoid. Tsubaki has certainly implied so."

"The limit on size is really a question of concentration. The larger something is, the more likely reality will interfere with it, and the more moving parts it has. I can easily make things man-size. So yes, I suppose they would work well enough as distractions."

Loki checked over the notes he'd made in the book again, then retrieved the spear from the closet; it would do as a makeshift stand for the IV. He carefully opened the little kit, pulling on the gloves with an almost fussy motion before he swabbed Soma's skin with an alcohol wipe. He checked a diagram in the book and put the little latex tourniquet around her arm, then felt delicately for the veins. That bit of anatomy, he'd investigated before.

"All right," he said, almost to himself. There was an odd feeling of nervousness, a flutter at the back of his throat. Experimenting was one thing, experimenting on someone entirely another, even with their blessing.

He checked the book one more time, uncapped the needle, and smoothly pierced Soma's skin. He frowned, noting no "flash" of blood, nor the feeling of having penetrated something the book had described. Carefully he fished around under he skin until he caught and pierced the vein.

At which point it got a bit exciting, because he withdrew the needle and there was a sudden gush of blood that ran over her arm. Loki muttered under his breath and fumbled for the IV line and got it plugged in on the second try - he really should have tried doing it one-handed first. He taped the line and the little plastic catheter down with every bit of tape that had come in the kit (overkill) then sat back.

"Well... in light of that, do you wish to continue?" He wasn't certain what he hoped the answer would be.

"I don't think people will hold it against you," Soma said after a moment. "Not if they see how it could help them."

Of course, she wasn't certain about that. But she would've thought there would be more backstabbing in a place like this than she'd seen. Of course people had their differences of opinions, but so far there'd been a surprising amount of cooperation.

And all it took was a common enemy. Thankfully, she was distracted from that irritating line of thought as Lingormr applied the tourniquet and fumbled his way through attaching the IV. Aside from a slight tightening at the corners of her mouth, she kept perfectly still. It hurt a little, but no worse than she'd really expected.

She was pretty sure he wouldn't need that much tape, but she kept her mouth shut. The last thing he needed now was a blow to his confidence.

"It wouldn't make much sense to stop now," she said, trying for a shaky smile. "You're doing well for your first try. If it helps, I've seen worse."

Mostly in the hallways at night, but that didn't bear mentioning. She was starting to feel a little lightheaded, but she wasn't certain if that was a side effect of the illness or just apprehension about what was happening.

"I wish I had your confidence," Loki murmured. "I think I prefer to remain quiet about it for the time being, however, unless you think it best I don't. I will tell Sora, however. That seems a good idea." And perhaps Tsubaki as well. People he could rely to have on his side if something went a bit awry later.

Foundations. It was all about foundations.

Loki turned to the pharmacopoeia, moving to the page about Ketamine that he'd marked previously. He scanned over it again, checked the vial that Soma had brought, and then measured a precise amount with the syringe. "All right. This ought to be enough to keep the pain from being beyond simple discomfort, but you should still be... mostly conscious. Though it apparently may cause you to hallucinate. Lovely."

Well, there was nothing for it, he supposed. She wished him to try this madness, and he would do his best. He should have considered it a win-win situation; either Soma would recover and be well again, or he would inadvertently kill her and that would count as a death for Landel.

Somehow, he found the latter option quite unappealing.

He injected the drug into the IV and checked the book again, setting his mental clock for when he might have to give her another dose. Considering this was to be a brutal, makeshift operation, he would hopefully be done before that was necessary.

"Let's have you lay down now. It shouldn't take long for the drug to have its effect." While waiting for that, he collected up the small supply of swabs to clean the skin of her abdomen. After a moment of consideration, he tied a makeshift mask over his mouth and nose as well, then stripped open one of the suture kits for a clean pair of gloves.

She inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment, carefully pushing herself further back on the bed and lying down. This, at least, was familiar, even if the crude setup wasn't. Marie spun worriedly in the back of her head, but thankfully said nothing. If what Landel was saying about people turning into monsters was true, they didn't have much choice. Even Marie had to admit that.

Soma wondered distantly if the nanomachines in her body were still working. It was hard to tell in a place like this, where everyone's healing was apparently sped up. She definitely hadn't noticed any increase in her own abilities that outstripped anyone else's.

It was a few more minutes before the edges of her vision began to blur, and a faint numbness gradually overtook her arms and legs. She wasn't so much sleepy as she was feeling increasingly detached from her body. It wasn't a pleasant feeling for someone who was used to being in full control, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant, either.

"I think it's working," she mumbled.

"All right."

No turning back now.

Loki took one last look at the pitiful collection of supplies, everything arranged to be within easy reach. He picked up the first scalpel and cut.

For all that the blade was flimsy, it was pleasingly sharp. This, he had no reason to shy from. He'd slid a dagger through enough bellies and in between enough ribs. Though this was different in that he was trying to be careful, precise, and avoid damage rather than cause it. That was what made it a challenge. Healing of any sort was always far more difficult that hurting or killing.

Thankfully, it also meant that he was not one to shy at the sight of blood, because there was blood. There was one small frission that ran through his belly knowing it was the blood of a friend, and he ruthlessly cut that emotion off and did his best to proceed clinically. He'd do neither of them favors by allowing himself nervousness or hesitation.

And it was a bloody business indeed. He had to cut through skin and muscle, pausing to soak up blood with the sponges, to cauterize a large vessel he'd accidentally nicked - that required a quick glance at the anatomy book - to prop the wound he'd made in Soma's side open with the metal tools he'd acquired from the operating room earlier.

That was only the beginning of it. He was soon smeared with blood to the elbow despite his best efforts to be careful. He had to pause and stitch another blood vessel, clumsily but good enough for now. Then finally he'd cleared the way to her stomach, around and under the ribcage. He carefully palpated the organ with his fingertips, feeling something hard inside it - that made him suck in a quick breath.

Well, he'd seen that drawing. He now knew it to be true.

Carefully, he cut the smallest possible incision, using a pair of forceps from the suture kit to retrieve the little object. He dropped it on the desk, to be examined later. After all, getting to the horrid little thing was only half the battle. The more difficult half was getting back out.

He could feel the beating of Soma's heart, no delicate flutter, but something powerful and vital so close to his hands. This, he thought, was true power. He could stop it, that endless rush of blood. Perhaps should, out of concern for his own purposes. But he found he didn't want to; if anything there was the strange urge to protect that vital force, keep it going. She was, after all, the first person who had been willing to trust him in quite some time.

Right now, that trust was worth far more to him than a slight leg up on his deal with Landel. There would be other nights. And in a way - and sometimes he damned himself, for always thinking of these multiple angles even in his rare moments of trying to be even the slightest bit selfless - it would be to his advantage as well, to see Soma safely through.

Loki used up all of the suture kits in stitching, first her stomach, then the layers of muscle, the few blood vessels he'd had to clamp off, and finally skin.

Sweat was rolling down his forehead when he finished, pressing a generous wad of gauze against her gory side. Any sounds Soma had made, he'd tuned out until now, not wanting his concentration broken when he was attempting to do something so foreign and delicate. He glanced up at her face. "Are you still with me?" he asked, voice muffled behind the makeshift mask.

The IV had hurt less than Soma had expected, but this hurt more. Lingormr hadn't given her a full dose of ketamine, which made sense. They'd agreed to keep her conscious for the duration of the operation, after all. Still, as fuzzy as her head had felt at the start, the drug had only taken the edge off the pain: enough to keep her still on the bed, fists bunching the sheets so tightly her knuckles ached, and nothing more.

If Lingormr had heard the muffled noises that occasionally forced their way up her throat, he didn't give any indication of it, which she appreciated. For her part, she only clutched the sheets as tightly as her drugged mind would permit and tried to ignore the smell of blood and burning flesh. It was stupid, she thought, that it would bother a trained soldier like this, but the mobile suit cockpit had always filtered the scent from the air. Here there was too much of it to ignore, and all of it was hers.

She didn't know how much time passed before Lingormr spoke again, his voice sounding strangely tinny and distant to her ear. It was difficult to make out what he'd said, but she could guess.

"Did..." she began, then had to pause as a small wave of nausea swept over her. "Did you...get it?"

"Yes." Loki straightened, fetching another wad of gauze to put on Soma's side and propping it there with the pillow from his roommate's bed. He assumed they would be miraculously furnished with clean linens come morning as well.

He finally turned his attention to the little device he'd set on the desk. A square of gauze cleaned it off well enough, and he inspected it. It did, indeed, look like the drawing, and not all the malevolent until one thought that it had been inserted into Soma's stomach. He stripped off the gloves and carelessly tossed them on the floor, then placed the little butterfly-like thing in Soma's hand. "Do you wish to keep it? Otherwise, I shall stow it away in my belongings in the hopes that I will be able to examine it more fully on the morrow."

He hesitated, then added, "I can give you another dose of the drug as well, if you wish."

So there had been something. She'd been afraid there wouldn't be, that all of this would have been for nothing. At least the information had been trustworthy, even if the second clue wasn't much help.

She felt rather than saw Lingormr place something in her hand, and with some effort she brought it up to her field of vision, raising her head a little to get a better look at it.

"'S actually a butterfly," she said stupidly. "Thought it would be..."

She trailed off, her mouth and her mind still refusing to cooperate. What had she expected? Some kind of device? Some complex bit of machinery? A pill, even?

"You keep it," she said after a moment's thought. "Don't have anything like it in my world. Wouldn't know what it is. Whatever it is."

She let her head fall back on the pillow, concentrating. "No. I think...better to wait it out." She smiled up at him, or tried to, and this time she was a little more successful than her previous attempts. "Thank you, Lingormr."

Loki nodded, taking the little thing back from her. Perhaps he should force himself to look at it tonight, but he felt so mentally exhausted - strange, that - he didn't think he'd learn anything at all useful. "I haven't anything like it in my world either. But perhaps someone can be found who might have some better grasp of the principles under which it might operate." He carefully rolled the object up in a bit of gauze and hid it away in his closet, tucking it into the toe of one of the boots. Who knew if it would do any good, but he could hope.

He returned to her side and gave her a wan smile of his own, sinking down to sit on the bed near her head. "All right. You know well how you feel better than I do. But if the pain grows worse, please tell me."

He fell silent for a moment, then reached out and hesitantly smoothed her hair back. It was a gesture he often remembered from Frigga, during times when he'd been sick.

Soma closed her eyes as Lingormr put the device away and tried to focus on her breathing. Now that the bulk of the anesthetic effect had faded, the sheer enormity of what had just happened was finally beginning to catch up with her.

It was true, she had always been the type to act first and think later, but that had generally been limited to charging headfirst into battle and leaving it to the lieutenant colonel to actually talk tactics. Persuading a trusted friend to perform makeshift abdominal surgery on her was something else entirely. She was suddenly grateful for the anesthesia, for having been mostly spared that trauma. Lingormr hadn't been that lucky, and all of this must have seemed terribly foreign to him, on top of everything else.

She tried to think of something else to talk about, something more reassuring, but her brain was still refusing to cooperate. All that was coming to mind was the image of Lingormr on his feet in the visitors' room, shouting at a tall blond man with a rage and a hurt she'd never seen in his eyes before. Even in her drugged state, she knew that was a conversation neither of them would want to have right now.

Lingormr returned then, sitting down beside her, and she responded to his comment with a faint noise of assent, her eyes still mostly closed. After a moment, she felt a gentle pressure against her forehead, Lingormr's fingers surprisingly cool as he brushed her hair back. Simple as the gesture was, she felt the beginnings of tears prickle at her eyes. She hadn't had time to think about how scared she was, either.

"I mean it," she said quietly. "Thank you. When we get out...my world's not perfect. But it's better than most."

And considering what he'd done for her, he'd always have a place at their house, she wanted to add. But she didn't have the energy to say it, and she wasn't sure how he'd react, either.

That hurt, somehow, in a way he could not begin to define, an intense twist of emotion.

Loki's hand hesitated, and then he stroked her hair again, soothing. "The lady is too kind," he whispered.

It hurt, and that made words feel strangely clumsy on his tongue. "Shall I tell you a story?"

Soma offered a slight upward quirk of her lips, blinking hard in another attempt to clear away the blurriness. "You're the one who just operated on me."

A story. She was reminded, sharply and suddenly, of a boy who'd read her a book a long time ago, who'd turned pages and described pictures she couldn't see. She swallowed hard.

"'d like that," she said softly.

Loki laughed softly. "Yes, and it may be premature to thank me for such butchery. We shall see."

It had seemed like such a good thing to suggest, in that moment. Something else Frigga had always done for him, one more bit of comfort. But Loki realized the weakness of it now. He could spin a lie better than any, but that wasn't the same as telling a good story from whole cloth. All he could really think of were his own stories, and those were painful, and far too revealing.

He smoothed his hand over Soma's hair again, licked his lips nervously, and tried to grasp some memory that would not bruise with being shared. Finally, he said:

"Once there was a girl in a great house. She wanted to be a warrior, but everyone said that women could not be warriors. Her parents forced her to wear pretty dresses that she loathed, and tied her golden hair in elaborate braids. She was friends with the two sons of the great house, and they did their best to help her. One taught her all of he tricks he knew from arms practice. The other listened to her cry and did his best to comfort her with words, for he was useless at anything else.

"One day, after hearing her fury that she might be forced to marry, for she was quite pretty and sought after by those who wanted her as a bauble rather than a friend or a staunch defender, one of the sons had an idea. He snuck into her room when she was asleep and cut all of her hair off with a pair of iron scissors. For he thought, if she was no longer seen as beautiful - though he knew, always, she was beautiful because she was strong, and good, and clever, not because of something so superficial as her golden hair - then the men she so hated would leave her alone.

"And they did. Everyone was shocked, but the removal of the hair she had so hated for making her an object gave her the chance to do as she had always wanted. She said if she now looked like a boy, she would train as a boy as well. And this time, no one dared stand in her way. They thought she had cut off her hair herself, though she was so mad and bold."

Loki smiled, a softness to the expression wholly uncharacteristic for him. "And when her hair grew back, instead of blonde it was black like those iron shears. It only made her more fierce. She became one of the greatest warriors in the kingdom."

Soma would like Sif, he thought. And Sif would like Soma. It was a shame they would never meet. But that was one thing he could think of with no pain beyond the pang of separation. He missed Sif as well, though he was under no illusion at all that she would be pleased to see him again.

Edited 2012-08-31 05:41 (UTC)

Even through the fog, Soma listened intently, hanging on to Lingormr's every word. He had a voice suited to storytelling, she thought muzzily. Piecemeal as her knowledge of his life before Landel's was, she thought she could see him seated before a fire, telling tales to a rapt audience.

There was a small smile on his face as he finished the story, like the echo of a fond memory. Had he told this story to someone else before, or was the story real? Probably both. Either way, it was good to see not all of his memories of his own world were unpleasant ones.

She was quiet for a moment longer. Then, looking up, "Did she ever find out who cut her hair?"

"She did," Loki said, laughing quietly. "She was far more clever than she thought. She could have been a great scholar if she'd wanted, but what she wished was to fight with the men, and that was what she achieved."

Because that was the sad truth of it. Sif had faced wall after wall to her ambition, but socially it had been still more acceptable for a woman to want to be like men, to be a warrior. For a man to wish to be like a woman... well, that hadn't turned out well for Loki.

He breathe out a quiet sigh. That was an avenue of thought not useful. "Shall I tell you another story?"

"I'm glad," said Soma simply. How much of Lingormr's tale was actually true, she didn't know, but he was clearly remembering something when he spoke. She had to wonder if the girl he was talking about actually existed, or if that was the part that was made up.

She offered a smile of her own, taking a deep, slow breath and gauging the pain. Tolerable, for now. Probably not worth risking another dose of ketamine.

She only hesitated for a moment, but the eagerness in her eyes was obvious, despite her exhaustion. "If you don't mind," she said, then just as quickly: "You don't have to on my account. I know you're tired."

Loki laughed quietly. "Not so tired as that. My hands feel a bit weak, but I don't think I could sleep now if I tried."

He thought of a few more entertaining, light things on which he could speak. Those seemed best. Now was not a time to tell Soma grim things.

He cleared his throat. "That same great house had an armsmaster, a one-eyed man who was an old soldier. He had no use for a girl in his practice court, and no use for a boy who was too clever for his own good. He was quite cruel to both of them, trying to humiliate them and give them bruises in an effort to force them to run away like cowards. The girl refused to give in and showed up every day, no matter her bruises, no matter if her arm was in a sling.

"The boy was not so dedicated. He didn't want to be there anyway. Instead he hid away in his mother's gardens and read books he wasn't supposed to read. Even as his brother and father taunted him constantly for shirking his duties. If he could not be found, he could not be forced to do what he did not want.

"His brother found him one day and dragged him to the practice ring..."

He hesitated, realizing at that point this story made it very clear that the boy in question was him, though he supposed Soma had already assumed as much. He snorted quietly.

"The boy decided that he was tired of the game. He cast a spell so that there were illusions of him and the armsmaster didn't know which to strike. While the man was distracted, the boy climbed onto the man's back like a monkey and held a dagger to the man's throat.

"The armsmaster had no choice but to yield. But everyone was angry with the boy, because he'd humiliated a good warrior, and embarrassed his family. He got strapped for that. But he didn't cry because he knew he'd won, and they never made him go to practice again if he didn't wish."

Edited 2012-09-02 20:36 (UTC)

She liked the girl, Soma decided, and by now she was almost certain she existed. And as for the boy...

Well, it was obvious now, though she hadn't been entirely certain before. While some innate part of her protested at the idea of shirking one's duties like that, it was clear where Lingormr's true talents lay. She supposed she would have struggled as much if she'd been forced to be a scholar of some sort.

And as different as Lingormr's combat style was from hers, she couldn't deny she liked a story with a good fight in it, especially when it sounded to her like the armsmaster was more of a bully than a proper warrior.

"The armsmaster should have learned how to confront enemies who could use magic," she said thoughtfully. "That was remiss of him. And the boy must have been very talented to catch him off guard like that."

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Okay so this is the part where it starts getting gross.

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