Day 55: Male Showers

[lighthearted]

The conversation that Sora had had with Sam had definitely made all of the cleaning far more bearable. It wasn't even that they had talked about anything that groundbreaking, but the man had been kind to him and it had given him something else to focus on. All in all, being forced to clean hadn't been as bad as he'd expected.

And now that it was over, it sounded like it was time to go to the showers. That was for the best, seeing how cleaning actually ended up making you kind of dirty.

More than that, Sora was lucky enough to be one of the first people who was led into the showers. He considered asking the soldier who was escorting him about the pins for his hat, but in the end it made more sense to wait until he was getting dressed again.

Changing out of his clothes, new as they were, wasn't a problem; his own outfit that he wore back home was far more complicated, after all, and so he had the buttons undone and the belt removed in seconds.

After that, Sora quickly moved toward the back of the shower area, turned on the water, waited for it to heat up, and then stepped under the spray. He'd learned some time ago that trying to talk in the showers usually didn't work so well; all the running water was too loud and he was too awkward, even if he'd gotten much better about it over time.

It was still better to just get it over with and then head out into the Sun Room, and so once he was decently clean he turned off the water and headed out to get changed again.

[To here.]

Comments

[prodigalson]

Admittedly, Edward might not have given showers enough credit. It had been a pain to unwrap his sling one-handed, but the hot water hitting his broken collar was more than enough to make up for it. He could probably stand here long enough that they would run out of hot water... it was rather amazing, really. He knew running warm water over tired muscles would ease soreness or tightness, but he hadn't ever really been able to experience it himself simply because his muscles normally did not become either.

Of course, he was going on the assumption that someone would re-wrap a new, fresh gauze around the bandages when his shower was over. Otherwise he would have to spend the rest of the day looking as if he were giving himself a half-hearted hug.

The thought of his name broke him from his revelry in the water, recognizing it as Stefan's mind before he had instinctively turned to look in the source's direction. The source was... terribly awkward, actually, but Edward didn't seem the least bit bothered by it as he smiled at the other vampire's curt greeting. Suffice to say, he was a bit surprised to see Stefan in the children's showers (he was a terrible judge of age, either way) while noting how old he was. 162 years old. Impressive. Older than me. He did the mental math. Born 1845? Assuming it's the same year and same world. Which didn't seem very likely, considering how different they were. His eyes flicked to Stefan's mouth, remembering the fangs - or what he had thought were fangs - as well as the blood which pooled under Stefan's eyes.

"Good afternoon," he said, sounding almost jovial. The meeting with Bella, while painful, had been what he needed after not seeing her for an entire day. The promise for tonight? Even more so. Thanks to Stefan's help, he would actually be able to be close to Bella without losing control. And he was... well, Edward thought of him as a friend already, and he didn't have many of those.

"Feeling any better since yesterday?" He gave him a considering look after that, adding before he could answer, "17, I'm assuming? How fun is that?"

[sainted]

Stefan felt himself relax under the heat of the water, and the friendliness of Edward's tone. He looked at his arms, seeing no trace of the blood which had caked his skin last night, even before he'd stepped under the spray. His clothes, too, had been changed before he'd awakened. Strange, imagining himself as a movie vampire in a coffin, lying insensible as humans peered over him with torches and stakes. Except instead of killing him, apparently they'd gone to the trouble of... cleaning his body and changing his clothes.

Compared to that, talking to another vampire in the showers was one of the least uncomfortable things which had happened today. Edward didn't seem bothered, anyway, even if he'd clearly heard several of the thoughts Stefan was thinking. "Uh, not so bad... before laws made high school compulsory," he answered with a soft laugh. He'd been more resentful about it before, especially after seeing how Damon could traipse around doing whatever he wanted while adults would dismiss Stefan because of his age. But... being seventeen had allowed him to meet Elena, and that was no small thing.

He glanced over at Edward, wondering. If he was included among the children, that put him at younger than eighteen for his physical age, and he didn't look anything less than seventeen. Especially considering...

When had Edward been turned? Not recently — he didn't talk or behave like a typical teenage boy, and his name hadn't been popular since the turn of the century. Beyond that, Stefan had no idea. "You're seventeen too?" he asked. "For how long?"

[prodigalson]

Sometimes it startled Edward that Stefan would think something that he himself had thought before. Being a teenager for eternity had really been the highlight of his life. During the early 1900's, it hadn't really mattered. He was considered more than adult then. But around the 50's, the 60's, it was like he was shrinking, growing younger as time went on. Suddenly he was a child, unable to vote, unable to drink, unable to (attempt) to die for his country if he ever felt the desire to unless he got Carlisle's business partner to forge his age on all of their already completely forged documents.

But being as young as he seemed to be, sending himself to the purgatory of high school... was why he had been able to meet Bella. Edward realized when he had thought of the girls of Port Angeles being someone else's Bella, he had been right on the money. As far as he could tell, this Elena girl was Stefan's Bella.

Scrubbing at his hair, Edward nodded under the spray anyway. He was glad the showers seemed to be relatively empty for this. "Yes. Ninety years ago. You are... 162, right? May I ask what year it was?"

[sainted]

Ninety years ago. Not young by any means, but definitely younger than Stefan... not that this made much of a difference. When it came to vampires, self-consciousness went out the window after hitting the centenarian mark, and Stefan had met far too many 300-plus-year-old vampires for him to think his age was anything special. All he'd really done with that time was not die. There were the schools he'd attended, some travel (not far; he'd never trusted himself to board a plane or boat overseas, and be surrounded by warm bodies, with nowhere to hunt), and those people whose lives he'd flitted into for a few hours, never long enough to leave a real mark on them. He wasn't Lexi, enjoying the perks of eternal youth to the fullest. He wasn't even Damon, going on for the sake of one woman and caring about nothing else.

He'd simply decided not to die. He didn't have a reason for it... fear, maybe. Stefan couldn't think of any other reason for him to keep going after the worst of the self-loathing had passed. Yes, he was alone, and yes, he didn't matter to anyone (Lexi would've just called him an idiot if he'd killed himself, and Damon... well, who knew?), but after a point, it became simpler to just... go on.

And because he did, it had been possible for him to be there when a car drove off Wickery Bridge, and for him to jump into the water and save one girl. If that was the only meaning for his 162 years of life, Stefan would take it.

Part of him wanted to ask Edward what he'd lived for, but he thought this sort of philosophizing was better reserved for when they weren't in the shower. "1864," Stefan answered simply. While Virginia was hip-deep in the Civil War, one of its small towns was tearing itself apart over demons. His next question came without thinking: "How did you become a vampire? I mean—" Stefan turned back to the blue tile of the wall, and ran his fingers through his damp hair. "If you don't mind telling me."

[prodigalson]

His fingers stilled in the red knots of his hair for a moment, calculating the number. "How strange. That puts you two years in the future for me." Not that that was particularly fascinating compared to the other things he had heard in people's minds, but it was always very strange for that sort of thing to be upfront and in his face. Nonetheless, time didn't mean very much to him anymore. Years were years, and two certainly was nothing to write home about.

Edward resumed his movements so he could focus particularly on them and controlling the rate of water falling from the faucet so he didn't have to follow Stefan's depression through his mind. He did smile for a moment at his heroics, however. Edward hadn't saved a drowning girl, but he had saved a girl who was on death's list, the next in line to be a accidental statistic.

The similarities were now becoming unnerving.

As hard as he was concentrating on not making this awkward, his head snapped up so he could turn to stare at Stefan with that question. Admittedly, it was surprising - more so because he hadn't thought about it before he spoke, but also because he had never had another vampire ever care enough to ask. "That's a rather personal question, don't you think?" he asked, but after a moment he laughed. Edward wondered if Stefan suffered from a morbid sense of curiosity or he actually cared.

"I was dying of the Spanish influenza epidemic in 1918," he started, shutting the cold off so only hot water poured out. "My doctor was a vampire and old and had no family. I didn't know it at the time, but I think my mother - we were in the same hospital, dying of the same disease - knew what he was, and she asked him to save me. This was the only way he knew how."

[sainted]

Two years in the future? What in the world did he...? Stefan shook his head under the spray of warm water and wondered how long it would be before he started accepting that the rules of the world had changed. This wasn't some kind of Founders Council conspiracy. It might not even involve magic or witches — the way Edward had reacted to the notion yesterday made him think it was arrogant to assume the things he took for granted back home would make sense here. If he could believe there were other realities with different types of vampires, then it shouldn't be such a stretch to believe that in this alternate universe, it was 2007 or whatever year Edward remembered. And if the people in charge here could so casually dip their hands through time, then...

Stefan didn't get the chance to follow that thought to its conclusion, instead feeling himself flush a little when Edward asked if that was a personal question. Or maybe that was the steam and hot water, he wasn't sure. It... well, it was personal, wasn't it? His own story was a mess with far-reaching consequences, and details which had taken him over a decade to sort out. In some ways, it wasn't entirely his story to tell, what with how inextricably entwined Damon was in every step of it.

But that was what it meant to be brothers. At least Edward looked amused when Stefan glanced over at him again, and was willing to humour him. He remembered the Great Pandemic, of course. There was nowhere to go to avoid it, and being young, Stefan was a prime candidate for infection — which would've mattered if he wasn't technically dead at the time. An untouchable witness to so much death. It was one of the few times he'd wondered if the unique properties of his blood couldn't be used to... Well. He hadn't gone through with it. There was too much risk of creating another like him.

That someone else had had a similar idea didn't shock him as much as the idea of a vampire doctor tending to humans. How could he have withstood it? Stefan remembered how the bodies had bled, how even diseased blood incited that part of him he tried so desperately to control. And more than that...

There was a simple reason for why he'd asked: in 145 years, Stefan hadn't met another vampire who lived by the same vow as he did. Sure, sometimes a vampire had to make do and drink animal blood for whatever reason, but no one ever quit the human stuff. So he couldn't help but wonder what circumstances might've led to that choice. He'd been expecting... He wasn't sure. Not this, apparently.

"You— Did you know what he was doing to you?" Stefan tried to imagine the scene. He tried to imagine what his own mother would've done, had she not died early. Would she have felt any differently about vampires? Would she have asked for...? (The hardness in his father's tone, when Stefan had confronted him—) No. He couldn't imagine it. "I mean... did you get to choose this?"

[prodigalson]

The two years was relatively unimportant in the midst of everything else happening around them, so Edward didn't mind when the topic was left behind. Besides, it didn't change very much. If Stefan had already come to accept this theory of varying universes, he was much further than Edward had been at this point in his stay at Landel's.

In comparison to that theory, Carlisle was a very simple topic to speak about. Actually, he didn't mind that at all - it made him feel like his father was closer than he had felt in a while. Twelve days without seeing him. Of course Edward had gone years at a time without seeing him, but that had been a decision he had come to by his own decisions. This was far from that.

Edward's smile now came very easy, the pride he felt for Carlisle nearly palpable. "His control is remarkable. He's been a doctor a lot longer than I've been alive. Most days the smell of blood hardly even bothers him." Carlisle's control was, nearly first and foremost, the answer to the question Stefan was seeking. If his sire had not been the sort of man he was, Edward would probably not have participated in the vegetarian lifestyle. At least for the most part. After enough time, Edward imagined, the guilt would have eventually crushed him into submission... after a lot more lives had been ended under his hands.

"I may have said that wrong. I don't think my mother knew what he was, she simply knew that he had a way to save me. At the time, I had no idea what was going on. I was completely delirious, and most of the time I was unconscious. I only know what happened because it was one of the first things I heard in his mind when I woke up."

Hm. He had meant his comment about it being personal to only be a jest, but he could see how much more personal it was for Stefan. "I didn't choose to be this. To be honest, I like to think I would have chosen to die. For a long time, I would have preferred to die... but sometimes something came up that made the last century worth it." Someone, specifically. There had only been one thing in his life that had been worth being a vampire for, in order to wait for her.

"I won't ask you to share your story as I see it's a lot more complicated than mine." Edward realized that might sound a little too passive, as if he was trying to lead Stefan's mind there despite it being truthful. There were too many tangles there to sort through. "But I don't mind answering any other questions about me if you have them."

[sainted]

Stefan was silent for a moment, absorbing what Edward had told him. He could sympathize with Edward's situation, at least as far as getting turned without his consent. His own after-death experience had involved waking up in confusion to Emily standing over him with blankets and an explanation. Would it have made a difference, if Katherine had turned him for more compassionate reasons? Honestly, to this day, he still didn't know why she'd done it, or what she wanted with him. Damon, he understood now. But not him. He'd never asked for this, and wouldn't have asked for this even if he hadn't been compelled.

But this doctor sounded like someone completely different from Katherine — someone who Stefan might have wanted to meet, even. A humane vampire who'd spent over a century dedicating himself to healing? If it had been surprising to meet someone like Edward, then it was a revelation to hear about someone like the doctor. Stefan wondered what had gone through his mind when he'd knowingly promised to transform a woman's dying son into an undead creature. Would Stefan have been able to make a decision like that, even for good reasons? To save someone... to save Elena... He didn't know.

"He sounds like a great man." Even though Edward had tactfully let him off the hook when it came to sharing his history, Stefan wanted to say something more than just prying questions. "It was my dream to be a doctor," he offered. "Before I was turned, I mean. I studied a lot of medicine since then, but I can't... get close to human blood." He looked self-consciously to the side, noticing the nearby dispensers. Stefan squeezed out some shampoo and rubbed it into his hair as he went on: "I tried to find other things to do — to take up my time, I guess. And there were a lot of things I enjoyed, but... when you're eternally seventeen, it's not possible to stay anywhere for—" He abruptly cut himself off with a laugh. "Sorry. I don't need to tell you about this, do I?"

It was odd thing, how he could sometimes forget himself in Edward's company. Stefan could count the people he felt truly comfortable talking to on one hand, and that was including the ones who were dead. He'd accepted that loneliness as part of the package of his existence, at least until Elena. It had been a relief to find her, to realize he could spend hours in her company and not have to hide anything — although he did, for some things.

There was an entire period of his life which she didn't know. He always meant to discuss it one day, and might have done so on that night she'd brought his ring to his cell, but then one thing led to another... Well. One day. Stefan wasn't sure if he could speak of it with Edward either, but he suspected his reluctance had less to do with the fact they'd only known each other a few days than it was... embarrassment, maybe. The word was a gross understatement, but he kind of liked the idea of calling it "embarrassment" anyway. It seemed normal and... teenagery.

"What was it like, getting used to it? Being a... you know," Stefan clarified ineptly. "I'm guessing the one who turned you didn't drink from humans either. Was that... hard?" This was getting into the arena of personal questions again, but he wanted to know more about Edward.

don't judge me for posting to this 23 days later ok.

[prodigalson]

Of course Edward couldn't stop himself from picking over the stray thoughts that drifted his way. The woman's name - Katherine - had come up again, so that at least answered the question of just who it had been that had turned Stefan. If Stefan's brother was also a vampire, had they been turned by the same woman? He was curious. He could admit that. That was different than the way he felt about most vampires, but most also weren't trapped in a teenager's body, vegetarian, and in love with a human. There were obvious reasons for his curiosity. If Stefan did not have a Carlisle to guide his way, how did he become who he was?

He was glad that, while Stefan knew he was a telepath, he didn't expect answers for everything. Edward had also thought of what he would do to save Bella, but when James's venom was surging through her veins... even then, he had hesitated. Now he had agreed to do it as long as she followed his compromise. She wasn't even in danger of dying, and he had agreed to destroy her soul. He had felt so safe with the assumption she would never agree.

"It was my dream as well," he said with a quiet laugh. "Well, one of many. I even tried to become Carlisle's apprentice of sorts. I wasn't very good at it. His control is nearly perfect, and mine is... far less so." He had still been thankful for Carlisle's insistence that he try it, because Edward attributed some of his control to being forced into a room with bleeding, dying patients. It never serve to unnerve him how controlled Carlisle was, even in his mind. The blood hardly distracted him from his work, even when his hands were covered in it. "I admit I did go to medical school a couple of times, just in case I ever achieved that sort of control. I'm still working on it."

Edward had thought many times if he hadn't rebelled - if he hadn't failed Carlisle's way of life - he would have that sort of control. Then again, he was also convinced Carlisle was a much better person than he was.

Stefan creeped into some sort of memory, but quickly backed out for... embarrassment's sake. Don't pry, he reminded himself. Usually it was easy because he didn't care. At least Stefan accepted his offer and asked a question so he wasn't forced to dwell.

"It was a very long, very awful period in my life," Edward answered truthfully. No point in sugar-coating it for another of his kind. "I'm not sure how much we differ, but being a newborn is excruciating. It's nearly impossible to be around humans for the first year." He shut the water off, grabbing a towel off the nearby bench. "It was doubly confusing because I could hear everyone's thoughts and it took me a long time to be able to differentiate between what was spoken and what was thought. I used to think a lot of thoughts were mine; a lot of other people's feelings would bleed into my mind. I had to avoid Carlisle when he was hungry, because it might my own hunger twice as bad. As you can imagine, the thought of eating animals for the rest of my life wasn't appetizing. I was fairly straight-laced, though... for a while."