heliodorianwings | line up the dominoes / a light wind blows

line up the dominoes / a light wind blows

Where: Heliodor
When: A few years after Hendrik's promotion
Summary: A seemingly petty curse. A terrible incident on the battlefield.

[In the moments he is conscious enough to string awareness together, he sees blue. A blue sky. Light filtering through the trees. He tries to hold on to that sense, but it blurs under the pressure and pain of everything he feels. A wooden wagon, its wheels rolling over stones and holes in the road. Flashes of cold that bite into him when his skin doesn't feel hot and sweaty. Pain, pain, pain--

A particularly rocky patch of road jostles him against the burlap that provides little protection on the wagon, and merciful darkness takes him.

The field medics fight what the healers cannot, trying to keep General Hendrik's fever down while stemming the blood flow from the grievous wound that took the man's right arm. The giver of the wound -- a nightmarish dragon with teeth capable of piercing plate and chain both -- has the knights rushing back to Heliodor, touting more injured than previous campaigns.

The crowds that see the knights drag themselves back to the castle grounds cannot do much more than look on in shock.]

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The welfare of your men is hardly my responsibility. That enquiry is best aimed towards the healer.

[The look on his face turns sour as he gazes out the nearby window. His bedside manners are hardly existant, ever demanding is he for perfection and soldiers who follow orders. Trust this man to fail at both and make him smile and worry all at once.]

As for your dragon, worry not. It cannot chomp upon you here.

[The moody non-answer has Hendrik hissing, as frustrated as a weary man can be. He tries again to move, intending to rock from side to side so he can sit up. But he finds himself unbalanced, the lack of a right arm leading to a noticeable tilt before he fall back into his pillow.]

You are ... not funny.

[It's all he says, soon preoccupied by chills that steal away his focus.]

[Jasper grumbles to himself. He angles forward to support his compatriot, seeking a pillow to support the man towards his back.]

No but I wager that is the most you have moved all day.

[Hendrik murmurs something probably approaching a "thank you" before falling silent for a long moment. Even now, his arm (or remains of it) aches, and he finally tilts his head to look at where his other hand would usually rest.

His remaining hand moves, reaching around as if searching for the missing limb. It's an unnervingly quiet moment before his hand drops to the sheets.]

I was hoping I was ... mistaken.

[Those grumbles become illegible mumblings that shame him into silence. One awkward hand twitches as though preparing to grasp his friend's hand - but he realises how futile that would be a forces them to relax in his lap.

He instead crosses one leg over his knee and perches his hands over that.]

I find it better to deal with the harsh truth of reality than to mire in fantasy, should that offer comfort.

Edited 2022-01-05 09:28 (UTC)

[Though his body demands he take it easy and his mind wars with denial of reality, Hendrik finds that Jasper's continued talking keeps him from his own thoughts. There's a reluctant note to his gravelly voice as he responds.]

I am sure you would have said something ... were it not plain.

[The talk doesn't so much help as it does delay processing the gravity of his situation.]

I doubt I should have held my silence.

[JAsper closes his eyes and thinks of all manner of unconscionable things. He avoids looking towards Hendrik in that instant - his face an image of stern thought. The weight of his wishes bear upon his shoulders as he leans back and looks at the ceiling.]

Goddess. Do you ever remember me being so predictable?

I do not think so.

[The words lack the sincerity that usually laces through Hendrik's speech, vague and quiet as he starts to sink away from the conversation and into his own thoughts. It's becoming far too difficult to ignore the imbalance of his body, even with fever, aches, and stress upon him.

Eventually, he manages to tear himself from the numb frost of indecision in his head to ask a question.]

...Has His Majesty been informed?

[The question draws his ire and attention. Emotions bubble below the surface; a whirling current of anger, jealousy and grief. His lips press together and he stares towards the other side of the infirmary.]

Yes. His Majesty is hosting court this afternoon but promises to escape soon as possible to visit you.

[A courtesy that would hardly extend to himself in similar circumstances.]

That is good.

[Again the words ring vague and insincere, a sign of some welling emotion that Hendrik keeps tightly contained. He grips his blanket and squeezes it at unsteady intervals, trying to keep himself grounded in the present.]

He should... He should know so he can start the process of finding a new general.

[He can't continue on in his current state. He knows it. How many knights and guards has he seen have to retire early due to injury?]

[Jasper unfolds his leg and sits rigidly in his chair. Hendrik's condition leaving him unable to fight and defend the kingdom is a problem neither can avoid. He bears the weight of it upon his shoulders; a crushing pressure that threatens to sink him into the floor. The absence of his only friend from his professional life leaves him with few to trust. His fingers clench into his palms and the pain acts as relief.

His tone is hardly kind but he wields his words like a scalpal to cut through the dreary melancholy.]

That decisions is his alone to make. Focus on rehabilitation.

What is there to "rehabilitate"? I am missing an arm.

[The words come out more sharply than any previously uttered, further rage and distress strangled out as Hendrik bows his head and covers his mouth. His breaths are stifled and labored as he painfully draws in his shoulders, fighting back anything resembling tears.

Heavens. Goddess. Yggdrasil. This is the only thing that's kept him going all these years. He can't lose it.]

What do you expect me to say? Do you need me to claim all will be well? To lie and fluff your pillow?

[A quiet rumble of anger. The rage and distress of helplessness flashes behind his eyes. It is difficult to solve this situation when he lacks the wisdom. It is harder not to be frightened.]

It will not help you.

[To say that Hendrik goes silent would be a lie. But he doesn't speak in the wake of Jasper's harshness, gripping his mouth and jaw like something threatens to spill out if his hand doesn't stay in place. Perhaps something will -- it would be just as well if he were sick in the middle of all of this.

His shoulders shake and he can't get his breathing under control to stop them. But perhaps that in itself is a small blessing, too preoccupied to send himself into a spiral with depressing thoughts.]

[Jasper watches the deterioration happen; his companion struggling through holding himself together to not holding together at all. The unhappy sight arrests his gaze - brows creasing with worry - but he springs up and hauls his chair off the floor. One hand carries it around the bed and deposits it on the opposite side.

The side where he can cover his friend's hand with his own and hold him close, saying nothing while saying everything.]

[Hendrik gasps and shudders his way through Jasper reaching for his hand, turning his head away as dry sobs finally eke out of him. Each one struggles out, Hendrik's self-restraint in tatters but still too stubbornly in place to let him simply cry as he had done as a child. Like it or not, he is still surrounded by his wounded men.

He can't look at Jasper as he squeezes his hand as best he can; though his other hand isn't injured, his breathing is still labored.

He says nothing and cannot truly appreciate the gesture in the moment, but the touch buoys him in a time where he feels there is absolutely nowhere to go but down.

In time, he's finally able to settle back against his pillow, pale and exhausted. He stares at the ceiling, trying to piece together thoughts and not quite succeeding.]

[The sight is one that prompts him to avert his eyes - but he refuses and his emotions leave him with each struggling cry. His hand relaxes its grasp and lets his friend squeeze whenever needed. He keeps silent and watches emotions flicker as thoughts coalesce without form.

He says nothing for a moment and only opens his lips when there is a good period of silence. His own thoughts take in everything he knows about Hendrik; his drive to serve and protect a home that took him in and treated him like family after losing his own.]

Would you prefer His Majesty waits on visiting?

[The question after such a long stretch of silence holds Hendrik's attention, even if he doesn't answer right away. Putting it off would be just delaying the inevitable, in his mind, and ... as he has already said, the King should be afforded time to look for a replacement.]

No. I should see His Majesty when he can make time.

[He sighs raggedly, settling into a miserable expression that he tries not to direct at Jasper.]

Apologies.

[He couldn't hold up his responsibilities to match Jasper's strategies for the army.]

As you wish. I estimate he ought arrive within the hour.

[The issue of serving alone in the army is pushed to one side - to be handled upon Carnelian's arrival. He cannot bear the thought of leading alone on his shoulders. Thoughts turn towards the current state of his companion and his own helplessness. Both know he lacks the pleasantness for a soothing bedside manner.]

I hardly doubt he shall offer better comfort than I.

[What is he to say to that? Hendrik sighs once more, turning his hand to grip at his sheets.]

It is just as well. He has seen many knights into ... retirement over the years.

[Maybe it'll be better if he can find a way to detach himself from the situation.]

[Jasper wrinkles his nose. It would serve both well to focus on other matters.

He could remind Hendrik that one can serve the country through more than heroics alone - or he could remind him of better times.]

Not all of whom are fortunate enough to listen to his bedtime stories. Though it was mostly I who took charge on that matter.

[Hendrik goes quiet at Jasper's remarks, the only sounds from him his deep breaths with a bit of a rattle which each exhale. He struggles with letting go of current circumstances and accepting the turn in conversation.]

You are very good at that. Taking charge.

Would you rather someone else safeguard your affairs?

[Not inherit. Nor assume. Safeguard. His offer to protect and lead his men for his companion's sake - not his own ego.

Not that his ego refuses to surface at this moment. It leads to a thoughtful frown that is directed away from the bed.]

I do not know.

[His words aren't meant as a slight against Jasper. He truly doesn't know -- doesn't want to be a burden, doesn't want to have to even consider someone else stepping in. But it's inevitable.]

I am sure you can handle it.

[But he doesn't know if Jasper wants to. If he should. If he can handle it in the short term, but need assistance in the future.]

[Jasper hardens his emotions behind his eyes - knowing Hendrik means no insult but feeling insulted all the same. The men under his friend's command are part of a solid group where each identifies with the other. He might not feel the same but he would protect it for his friend if nothing else.

More than that, he shall handle it because he must.]

Delighted to hear you think so. But no matter. I desire you think about yourself first before you think about your men, Hendrik.

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