princesscupcake | And When He Saw Her Raised for the Slaughter, Abraham's Daughter Raised Her Bow

[It takes a moment for him to even register that she's spoken. Killian looks up slowly, a sort of haze in his eyes.

He's not really there. It's been a long time since he's felt alive.]

It's not going to get better. None of this is... [He gestures vaguely, but when he looks at her again, there's a renewed sort of clarity.]

...Do I know you?

[She settles on her knees in front of him, hands on her hips. Shell shock is the word her adopted father often uses, though she knows that many consider it malingering. She knows better.]

I'm Torry Mirkwood. [She leans forward, holding out her hand to him.] Now you know me. But I still don't know you.

[He just feels...lost. Disjointed. Like he's wandering through a nightmare and he can't escape.

The fact of the matter is that he's lost his brother in this war. He's now half of what used to be a whole and he doesn't know how to function.

He flinches slightly when she leans forward, but after a moment he takes her hand hesitantly with his own, giving it a small shake.]

Killian Durin.

Well, Killian Durin, it's a pleasure. Might I have a look at your leg, then?

[Did she just...? Yes. Bold as brass and completely unashamed for it.]

[There's a glimmer of a smile in his eyes for a moment.]

You're very forward.

[Still, Killian starts to roll up his pant leg. He's never had much of a sense of modesty to begin with.]

I am.

[Without asking permission, she puts her hand to his leg, feeling the muscle, nodding a little to herself. She reaches for something in her pocket.]

Bit of a hairy goat, aren't you?

[She tugs out a little packet of herbs, letting the moss spill into her hand.]

[A laugh spills from his lips, and he looks rather surprised at the sound.]

My...mother calls me a wolf.

[She looks wistful a moment.] Your mum sounds nice.

[She applies some of the herb to his wound without so much as a by-your-leave.] This ought to draw a bit more of the infection out, but you really ought to do more with your leg. You should walk with me a bit.

[He nods without saying anything. It's still hard to talk about family; he can't imagine how his mother must be coping with the loss of her eldest.

Killian hisses softly as she presses the herb to the wound, a little surprised at how forward she is with this. Most nurses coddle and fuss over him, but she doesn't even seem to check if it hurts him much.

Honestly, it's...refreshing.

Killian lets out a quiet sigh at her request before finally managing a nod.] Yes, alright.

[Thankfully she doesn't seem to mean right this instant. Instead, she moves to sit next to him, stretching out her legs in front of her and leaning back in the grass.]

It's nice here.

[No jibber-jabber, no nitwit remarks to try and cheer him. She seems fine if he just wants to stay silent.]

[He's surprised by how she's treating him, but in a good way. She doesn't seem to be too concerned with spoiling him too much or making sure he talks about what he went through. He relives that every night; he doesn't want to relive it during the day too.

Killian glances over to her, considering her for a few moments.]

What are you doing here?

I'm a land girl, can't you tell? [Her tone is cheerful.] I'd have joined the army, but to be honest, I'd want to be a proper soldier, and if they were going to just stick me behind a desk to push papers for some fat general, I'd just as soon be out here, working with my hands and making sure the country's kept fed.

[Killian hums tunelessly, a sound that's neither agreement nor disagreement.]

...Being a soldier isn't...it's not...

[He struggles for a few moments.]

...There's nothing brave or heroic about it. You're better off here.

It is. [She disagrees, though she's not puppyish or wide-eyed or naive about it.]

What's the alternative? Let the Nazis roll right over us? Every man who commits himself, every man who sacrifices, is a hero. To me, at any rate. Bravery's about doing what's necessary despite fear, not having a lack of it.

Edited 2014-02-21 09:17 (UTC)

I have to go home and tell my mother that because of me, her favorite son is dead.

[Killian's voice is bitter, shaking slightly. His hands tremble in his lap and he curls them into fists.]

How is that a good thing? How is that...heroic and patriotic and...whatever bullshit propaganda they're spreading now?

I couldn't say. [Her tone is frank.] I don't know the details, and I won't pry if you don't want to talk. But the situation you blame yourself for? You wouldn't have been in it at all if not for the damn Germans.

[Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, mister.]

Fuck them.

[His voice seethes with anger, the words spat out like poison. Killian's hands are still shaking, and he finds he's a little out of breath, worked up by the topic.]

Right up the arse. [She agrees. This earthy girl, she is not a lady.]

Edited 2014-02-21 09:39 (UTC)

[There's a faint smile at that and he nods, letting out a long breath.]

You're...very upfront with your opinions.

I know. [She scrunches up her face.] Terrible, innit? My foster brother thinks it's hilarious, but our dad just tells me proper ladies oughtn't behave that way.

[She reaches up to unpin the kerchief from her hair, pausing momentarily.] You don't mind, do you?

[It doesn't matter, because she doesn't wait; long red hair spills down her back, and she seemed relieved for letting it flow. Having it pinned up for hours can be uncomfortable.]

You have no idea how refreshing it is after all these stuffy nurses.

[His smile comes a little easier this time, though it's still small and shy.]

If I wanted to be fussed over and coddled, I would have gone home.

And When He Saw Her Raised for the Slaughter, Abraham's Daughter Raised Her Bow

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