Soft and Hurt

Two weeks ago I fell off a horse (or rather, fot thrown off with force) and slammed into the arena wall with my back and right shoulder. What looked very dramatic at first and had me struggling to breathe for a hot minute including a ride in the ambulance to the ER ended up "only" being bad bruising. No broken bones, no internal bleeding. Just a bruised shoulder, ribs, and back.

I was released home the same day after my x-rays came back clear with pain meds.

And let me tell you, I was almost incapacitated by "just" bruises. I barely managed to get around by myself at home. Could barely stand for more than a few minutes bc my back hurt so much. Had to force myself to breathe properly. Had shit lying around on the ground for days bc I couldn't bend down to pick it up.

Getting out of bed in the morning still hurts. Imagine sitting on the toilet and thinking "fuck how am I gonna clean myself up".

It's been two weeks and I'm now finally starting to feel somewhat normal again. I expect to feel some pain for at least two more weeks.

So, uh, if your character gets knocked down good, like, in a fight, they can be totally helpless even without any serious injuries.

just picture it: talvos sitting in the window of his tower, talvos carrying his braid in a basket on his hip as he tends to his plants, talvos re-reading a few carefully hoarded books, talvos who has never seen more of the world than the view from his window. and then into his life flits a fae who goes wherever the wind takes him but who keeps returning to visit again and again, a fae who brings gifts of plants and stolen books and suncatchers he makes for talvos and no one else; a fae who teaches talvos that there is a life outside of his tower and that he can want it.

—

It takes close to two hours for Hero to regain consciousness. Villain expected less; Hero had always been so resilient on the battlefield, jumping right back into the fray without a sign of fatigue. But then, Hero hadn’t been tortured and starving.

They slowly open their eyes, first taking in the plain white ceiling above, then casting about. Grazing over Villain before snapping back, wide, alarmed.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Villain says, keeping their voice clipped and dry, as always when speaking with Hero.

Hero blinks at them, opening their mouth to speak and reconsidering twice before responding. “Why didn’t you kill me?”

Villain sighs and shifts forward in their chair, tapping their cane on the linoleum. “Do you think me so honorless as to let you go without a fight?”

Hero chuckles, then winces, bringing their unhurt arm up to a suspiciously boot-shaped bruise Villain had noticed on their ribs. “…Felt like I was gonna die anyway if you weren’t gonna do it.” They cough, dry of throat, and Villain reaches over to the bottled water on the end table. Making sure Hero is watching, they twist off the cap and break the seal, then open a plastic straw from the cafeteria. Beverage thus prepared, they lean forward closer and hold it to Hero’s lips. They seem baffled, but accept the water gratefully, having a few long pulls from the straw. “You’re so weird.”

“Thank you,” Villain replies, setting the water back down. “Hero, old friend, I’ve wanted to see you beaten at my feet since the day we met.” They flinch at that, but don’t break eye contact. “However, there is no satisfaction in it this way. Finding you beaten, dying, and broken by another’s hand.” They take a deep breath to steady themself again, tightening their grip on the head of their cane. “Who did this to you?”

Fear flickers across Hero’s face before they look away, tensing up. Villain ignores the prickling from their own old scars. “…Very well. Here is my proposal.”

“Once you have gotten enough strength back to walk, one of my people will drive you to a location of your choosing and drop you off. You will be blindfolded.” Hero’s breathing hitches, and Villain reconsiders. “…You will be sedated and asleep during the ride. Once you’ve been delivered, well…” Villain hums, as if mulling it over, as if they hadn’t spent two hours thinking on this already. “Did you know I haven’t taken a vacation since we first met?”

Caught off guard, Hero looks back at Villain. “What do you mean?”

“Old friend, I mean that I spend so much time planning around your shenanigans that I haven’t had any significant time to myself in close to a decade. Nor have many of my junior staff. I think two… no, three months for us to all get a little R-and-R would be appropriate.” A smile graces their features. “This goes for you as well.”

Hero stares, slowly processing Villain’s words. “…How do I know you won’t wreak havoc while I’m recovering?”

“Have you ever known me to go back on my word?”

“…Guess not.”

Villain nods. “Well, regardless, I’ve never been to Spain. Valencia’s Fallas festival is set to begin in two weeks–have you heard of it? They build and burn these delightfully vivacious pieces of sculpture.” They sit back in their chair. “Perhaps I’ll bring you back a souvenir.”

“That sounds exactly like your style,” Hero says drily. Villain smiles, a bit more genuine this time. “Fine. Vacation sounds nice.” They sigh and sink into the pillows on the hospital bed. “…I haven’t had one in a decade either.”

Villain nods and stands. “It’s settled then. Here is the television remote.” They pick it up from the end table and deposit it within easy reach on Hero’s bed. “The red button on the table will summon a nurse to you. If anyone mistreats you during your visit, inform me. Everyone has strict instructions to treat you with the same reverence they afford myself.”

CW: Hospital care/medical stuff

—

Getting Hero in the back of the car was easy enough. They didn’t so much as flinch when Henchman stuck them with a needle full of sedative, and they were out like a light before they were buckled into the back seat.

Villain tries not to look at them too much on the drive back. Their nemesis, beaten and weak, utterly at their mercy. They could tuck them out of the way, ensure they would never interfere again.

Maybe Villain had wanted that once.

They focus on the scenery of the road.

The Henchmen all stare, or at least pretend not to stare as Villain follows the unconscious Hero inside, strapped to a stretcher and pushed along by two of their medical team. Villain doesn’t look around at them, keeping focused on the path ahead, the route to the medical wing. Thinking.

They watch from outside the glass walls of the ICU, both hands folded neatly on the head of their cane. Their staff is hard at work, treating Hero with all the care and attention they would afford Villain. Broken arm set and casted. Cuts–so many cuts, all over their back–cleaned and wrapped. IV fluids, a blood bag, replacing all they’d lost.

They seem horribly small in the hospital bed, hooked up to tubes and wearing only a hospital gown. An encounter out in the city always made them feel larger than life, but truly, Hero is shorter than Villain.

They refused to call that feeling “worried.”

And when one of their henchmen contacted Villain, saying they’d found Hero, well, they refused to call that feeling “relief.”

Regardless, they climbed into the back of their company car, a nondescript silver number that could be bought at any dealership but had, of course, been modified. They sat silently in the back seat, one leg crossed over the other, cane in their lap. The driver was silent, as usual, but it was not the comfortable silence of employer and employee.

It had started to rain by the time they arrived at Hero’s location nearly an hour later. A small, sparsely populated town, hardly able to be called a suburb. A pair of abandoned storefronts, separated by an alleyway.

Henchman bowed to Villain as they exited the car, then gestured to the alley.

The tip of their cane tapped on the cracked cement as they made their approach, entering the filthy darkness with an old sense of familiarity, something they’d vowed to never return to. And yet here they were, staring down at the crumpled form of Hero, supported only by a stack of rotting wooden pallets.

The sound of Villain’s cane seemed to have roused Hero a bit, the sound of an impending confrontation perhaps awakening their senses. Their hair was filthy, their face streaked with dirt and blood from a scabbed-over cut on their forehead. One arm was bare, swollen below the elbow, broken. Their uniform was torn, more cuts peppering their body, bruises visible on exposed skin. The stink of old blood almost made Villain recoil.

Hero’s dull eyes met Villain’s sharp ones for a moment, then returned to the filthy concrete beneath their feet. They did not want this to be how they first saw Hero without their mask.

Villain shifted their weight to their good leg and raised their cane, catching Hero’s chin with the tip and raising it, forcing the eye contact this time. Hero doesn’t look frightened, angry, or even… all there. They simply look exhausted and pained and resigned to whatever fate Villain has in store.

Villain took a deep breath, steadying themself before they spoke.

Feral whumpee rescued or escaped from captivity, but now they're in safety, they've put themselves in a corner and lash out at anyone who comes close. Multiple kind individuals have tried and failed to coax them out. They won't even accept food or water or any sort of comfort. They'll only come out of their corner if no one else is in the room with them, but even then it isn't far. Just enough to easily dart back if the floorboard creaks outside the door.

Then there's Caretaker, who decides to try something new to help Whumpee.

They come in and just sit. Silently there. They know whumpee is watching them, but they nonchalantly do something else. Be it reading or writing or some hobby they can easily pick up and take with them. When the day draws to a close, they leave. (Or, if the Caretaker knew them before, depending on their closeness to Whumpee, they stay and sleep where they are).

They do this for a while, multiple days. No talking, just silence. They make sure to keep their back turned so Whumpee can eat or drink or sleep and feel safe enough to do so.

Eventually, Whumpee starts to eat when they know Caretaker can see. They inch a little closer to see whatever Caretaker has been doing day after day. If Caretaker has been reading, they start to read aloud to Whumpee. If it's a hobby, they tell Whumpee what they've been doing. A one sided conversation, but Whumpee is clearly listening intently to them.

Then one day Caretaker goes to leave for some reason and Whumpee finally speaks.

"Don't go."

So they stay. Or they explain they'll be right back, they promise. And they are.

They stay until Whumpee feels comfortable enough to be next to them.

And they keep staying until Whumpee doesn't need them to be anymore.