[Akechi doesn't want to ruin the imagery Maruki has in his mind - behind the healer is a fighter. A killer. A man soaked in blood that isn't his. The persona may have a healing skill or it may-
Rip itself through body and spirt, claw through his chest and tear apart a perceived ego to reveal the truth in dark flames.
The video rewinds. Starts again - Maruki had done alcohol wipes next and the small squares seem like a pathetic mockery to an exposed gash - raw and deep. He might need stiches - Akechi could try. He did them on himself, watched a video, but-
He mulls the thought around until the alcohol stings his nose. He's not a fucking doctor - this is all to upkeep an image anyway. A prince should care and assist when needed. There's no chance Maruki could do this on his own and thus, he has to step in.
Nothing more.]
It's awful. [Pause, and-] This will hurt, but you can handle it. Bear it and bite down on this - [A shitty polka dot blouse is tossed over the good shoulder, right into his lap. A way to cut his teeth.] - if it's too much.
[Still airy and neutral, he waits until there's some kind of acknowledgement of what's about to happen before-
Maruki's hunched form twists. Shifts. Reminds of him of being pressed against the wall of a safe room - back when injuries made tears prick at the edge of his vision. When he pressed salves and alcohol into wounds that needed immediate attention because the trek to lower levels was treacherous. When he would press his palms deep in his eyes until blooms of color appeared in dark lids because it hurt and -
Even if it did, everything healed the second he left the Metaverse. Maruki won't have that luxury.
Akechi pauses - silent, tired and-]
There's no shame in feeling pain. You'll get used to it, in time.
[He unwraps another wipe, intent on using both hands to work fast.]
no subject
Rip itself through body and spirt, claw through his chest and tear apart a perceived ego to reveal the truth in dark flames.
The video rewinds. Starts again - Maruki had done alcohol wipes next and the small squares seem like a pathetic mockery to an exposed gash - raw and deep. He might need stiches - Akechi could try. He did them on himself, watched a video, but-
He mulls the thought around until the alcohol stings his nose. He's not a fucking doctor - this is all to upkeep an image anyway. A prince should care and assist when needed. There's no chance Maruki could do this on his own and thus, he has to step in.
Nothing more.]
It's awful. [Pause, and-] This will hurt, but you can handle it. Bear it and bite down on this - [A shitty polka dot blouse is tossed over the good shoulder, right into his lap. A way to cut his teeth.] - if it's too much.
[Still airy and neutral, he waits until there's some kind of acknowledgement of what's about to happen before-
Maruki's hunched form twists. Shifts. Reminds of him of being pressed against the wall of a safe room - back when injuries made tears prick at the edge of his vision. When he pressed salves and alcohol into wounds that needed immediate attention because the trek to lower levels was treacherous. When he would press his palms deep in his eyes until blooms of color appeared in dark lids because it hurt and -
Even if it did, everything healed the second he left the Metaverse. Maruki won't have that luxury.
Akechi pauses - silent, tired and-]
There's no shame in feeling pain. You'll get used to it, in time.
[He unwraps another wipe, intent on using both hands to work fast.]
Are you ready?