They're on my wrists. Maybe four, five inches up my forearms.
[ like ... about the width of ... a large man's hands ... IT'S FINE. ]
I don't know how severe they are. Worse than what I've gotten off touching hot parts. The skin's still red and white and puffy. It looks sort of warped and patchy.
[ like say if we were hypothetically operating on a scale of three degrees, they would be in the middle. ]
[ The last thing she wants is to be an inconvenience.
True to her word, she's at the safehouse, but she seems to be occupying herself by hovering around others and trying to establish if they're holding up alright after what happened. Everything seems pretty unstable right now. ]
[ when Stephen eventually arrives half an hour or so later, he looks about as worse for wear at the rest of them. there's an ugly bruise growing over his jaw, a slight limp in his right leg, and the general wear and tear of travelling around a city turned inhospitable.
after a brief interlude to wave off a few conversations he hasn't got the time or energy for, he makes a beeline for Rey.
a tap on the shoulder to take her attention from whoever she's fussing over: ] Come on, then.
[ Rey turns away from her conversation when Stephen comes through, following after him very much like a duckling. She's aware, of course, that Stephen seems to have more experience with this garbage and general knowledge — there's a reason she opened with 'don't be mad.' And she respects and on some level defers to that.
But while they enter the med room, she also takes this opportunity to look over that he doesn't look like he's in great shape himself. Since he doesn't seem to be disappointed or chagrined in her injuries (or the fact that she'd let them lie for a day while they dealt with the crisis, hoping they would get better on their own), she ventures — ]
Hand. [ pointing to his jaw. ] Foot. [ pointing down to his leg. ]
[ it's been A Time, but hasn't it for everyone? Stephen points at one of the checkup beds in indication, and goes to grab a few things from the cabinets around. meanwhile: ]
[ She says it without any particular self pity, filling the air as she starts gingerly rolling up her sleeves. Per her description, burns roll up her forearms, turning the skin shiny, pink, and almost waxy in how it is disfigured. Nothing that, with proper care and attention, shouldn't be able to heal with some minor scarring. But she obviously hasn't given them proper care and attention besides maybe keeping them washed and covered. ]
I went into the fire, you know. While I was under the influence of whatever that sickness was, I was out of my mind. I picked a fight with someone. He did this.
[ With this context the particular placement and shape of the burns clears up. They're hands, holding her wrists to restrain her. ]
[ and there it is. Stephen listens quietly, turned to watch her and glance down at her wounds from where he's stood as they're revealed. there's no comment on fault, none of his business without really knowing the circumstance. ultimately, fault doesn't matter here. the wounds are his job, the morality not so much.
but there's a question - loosely necessary, but born of curiosity just as much. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Yes. I got that. Please tell me about the severity and the circumstance.
no subject
[ like ... about the width of ... a large man's hands ... IT'S FINE. ]
I don't know how severe they are. Worse than what I've gotten off touching hot parts. The skin's still red and white and puffy. It looks sort of warped and patchy.
[ like say if we were hypothetically operating on a scale of three degrees, they would be in the middle. ]
no subject
Okay. With the supplies at the safehouse I should be able to patch you up enough to avoid hospital.
[ mentioned because apparently nobody wants to! suck it up and go to hospital! he's not bitter ]
no subject
[ The last thing she wants is to be an inconvenience.
True to her word, she's at the safehouse, but she seems to be occupying herself by hovering around others and trying to establish if they're holding up alright after what happened. Everything seems pretty unstable right now. ]
no subject
after a brief interlude to wave off a few conversations he hasn't got the time or energy for, he makes a beeline for Rey.
a tap on the shoulder to take her attention from whoever she's fussing over: ] Come on, then.
[ then he's turning to head for the med room. ]
no subject
But while they enter the med room, she also takes this opportunity to look over that he doesn't look like he's in great shape himself. Since he doesn't seem to be disappointed or chagrined in her injuries (or the fact that she'd let them lie for a day while they dealt with the crisis, hoping they would get better on their own), she ventures — ]
Someone affected get their hands on you?
no subject
[ it's been A Time, but hasn't it for everyone? Stephen points at one of the checkup beds in indication, and goes to grab a few things from the cabinets around. meanwhile: ]
And you?
[ times for details, Rey. ]
no subject
[ She says it without any particular self pity, filling the air as she starts gingerly rolling up her sleeves. Per her description, burns roll up her forearms, turning the skin shiny, pink, and almost waxy in how it is disfigured. Nothing that, with proper care and attention, shouldn't be able to heal with some minor scarring. But she obviously hasn't given them proper care and attention besides maybe keeping them washed and covered. ]
I went into the fire, you know. While I was under the influence of whatever that sickness was, I was out of my mind. I picked a fight with someone. He did this.
[ With this context the particular placement and shape of the burns clears up. They're hands, holding her wrists to restrain her. ]
It's his power.
no subject
but there's a question - loosely necessary, but born of curiosity just as much. ]
Fire, or heat?
no subject
[ But it's all so ambiguous that she definitely doesn't sound sure of it. ]
Does it make a difference?