The Weight of the World (locked to abidingstoic)

[windlancer]

He didn't know if he could handle this. Any of it. Dilan had regained his heart, and with it his memories. All of them. Xaldin. The Beast. The woman, Belle. Dying. He remembered dying. He dreamed it, being dragged down into oblivion and unraveled like so much loose thread. It was a regular enough dream that lately that was all he had been dreaming. Every night for the last three nights. The dark circles under his eyes were indication enough that he'd been losing sleep. Most of the time his days were spent in a haze of melancholy, going about looking for something, anything to do to keep himself occupied, to take his mind off the monster that was Xaldin. If one of the others didn't chase him back to his room, he would work until his shoulders were sore and his legs could barely support him.

But tonight was different. Worse.

Dilan had managed to throw the blankets off himself in the middle of the night. He groaned in his sleep, turning over from his back onto his side. The same nightmare. The Nobody that wore his face bearing down on him, no matter how fast he ran, no matter how hard he tried to escape, the lancer was gaining on him. A whimper escaped him in his sleep...blissfully he was unaware of how much like a terrified child he sounded.

He heard the whistle of a spear in his dream. Two of them landed in his back.

Dilan awakened with a jolt, a horrified scream tearing out of his throat.

Comments

[the_earths_salt]

The more strongly you resist, the more powerful the backlash when your strength finally gives way. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.

Lexaeus only smiled in grim understanding as the anesthetic did its work, and Xaldin faded into unconsciousness. He believed him. He'd seen enough effects of how the Darkness could change people to understand that Xaldin didn't need to have a hand in things for something this drastic to happen..... But still, he's never seen results this drastic before, not without the transformation being absolute. Most people, if the Darkness had corroded them this much, would have lost their hearts entirely--they would have torn asunder, and Xaldin and his Heartless presumably would have been reborn. Who could say? Nobody had ever tried to reunite a Nobody and their heart, then tear it out of them again; as far as he's concerned, nobody probably would ever try to do so, and that was probably for the best.

Still, a half-Heartless..... what a sobering thought. Or should that be a half-Nobody?

He was inclined to think the latter, as he peeled the mostly dead skin back and revealed the source of the problem. Lexaeus didn't dare touch them just yet, but he thought he recognized the shape; wings were delicate things, and if this one wasn't finished fully growing, then handling it improperly could cause further damage. The dilemma was short-lived, though; Lexaeus barely had time to study the wings before the door swung open, and Even bustled in with a cart. It was a relief to see Ienzo was with him as well, and looked normal and healthy enough, if still bleary-eyed--that meant they only needed to worry about one of their number. "Thank you."

"Check the back of the freezer--those are most likely to be viable." Even advised; after well over ten years out of the castle, odds were actually fairly high that they might not have any left still fit for transfusion.

He was quick to join Lexaeus at the operating table, pinning the flap of skin back and thoughtfully studying the awkwardly folded limbs that had been exposed. It really was a minor miracle he hadn't torn himself open with those, given the size of those things..... But then again, who knew how big they were supposed to be? Even held out a hand for the scalpel, and settled in to get to work. "We'll need to free them of all restraining tissue, and ensure they're fully functional. Get those Cure spells ready again--I want all growth completed by the time he's awake."

Lexaeus surrendered the scalpel readily enough, but still raised an eyebrow at the insistence, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a wry smile. "He tried to tear them out with his bare hands. I don't think he's going to be happy with this." Still..... he obviously wasn't protesting, or claiming that it was a bad idea.

"Is he daft? Amputating perfectly healthy limbs just isn't done. The potential complications alone aren't worth the risk, even as rare as they are."

Lexaeus only nodded his agreement at that; he couldn't help but think that he was going to have an awful lot of tailoring to do soon. How exactly would it be best to alter shirts and coats to allow for the addition of wings? Sleeves would be hard to thread them into, and probably would provide terrible freedom of movement.....

[windlancer]

"They may be healthy, by they're far from normal," Ienzo pointed out. "We can't blame Dilan for having a panic episode."

In the end, Ienzo had to take blood from himself, being one of the lucky few carriers of universal compatibility. The freezer needed to be emptied entirely, all samples destroyed, but there was no time for that now. He alternated his time between assisting Even with removing the dead skin and leaning against a counter with some crackers and juice. He occasionally gave Lexaeus a wary look. No wonder most humans gave them a wide berth when they were Nobodies. He would ask Aeleus later...if Aeleus were to come back. For now he kept most of his attention on poor Dilan.

The wings fully grown reached slightly past Dilan's backside, giving him much-needed modesty on the cold table. Ienzo had the sense to get a blanket for him after they were done. The consensus was that Dilan couldn't be trusted with the appendages, after his attempt at removing them. So after setting up an IV drip of mild sedative, Ienzo slink back to bed to rest and recuperate. They could clean the blood off the new limbs later. After some desperately needed sleep.

Dilan awakened in midmorning with his mind in a fog and what felt like a heavy blanket over his shoulders. His back still ached, and raw skin itched like he had been bitten by insects. He groaned, eyes half-lidded and sore around the sockets. His body felt suspended in water, muscles languid, hovering just above being able to move his arms, but it felt like he moved them through a thick syrup. Where....? The infirmary? When had he....

The last thing he remembered was....pain. Aeleus, or was it Lexaeus, carrying him down the stairs. Beyond that, nothing. Dilan fought the lethargy of the sedative, straining to pull his arms underneath him so he could get up.

[abidingstoic]

As much as Aeleus regretted leaving the clean-up until later, (dried blood was always more difficult to clean than fresh) all of them needed to rest and recover. It had been a long night for all four of them between the surgery, taking care of Dilan's new wings, and taking enough blood from Ienzo for a small transfusion. They had moved Dilan to a bed in the infirmary to recover, rather than keeping him in the operating room, and Aeleus had taken the time to get the man's pants and undergarments on for a modicum of privacy..... but otherwise, he had been left to sleep off the worst of the effects, hands loosely tethered to the railings of the bed to ensure that he wouldn't hurt himself--by pulling the IV out, or by trying to do something to his wings.

Ienzo was free to do as he liked, (donating blood would certainly earn a bit of sleeping in!) but Even and Aeleus were up soon enough that morning. Even, naturally, was running tests on the samples that had been drawn during the surgical procedures--the more they knew about what happened, after all, the better they could take care of it. Aeleus, though..... He was back in the infirmary with a fresh pair of gloves on and a basin of diluted alcohol mixture at hand for the lingering clean up job. Dilan was starting to wake up, right before be got started; Aeleus made a quiet, soothing noise, gently touching the back of the man's neck. "You're okay, Dilan. Don't try to get up just yet; there's still medicine in your system, and we need to get you cleaned up. How do you feel?"

[windlancer]

You're okay.

He eased at that, relaxing. The memories of fear and pain were becoming more concrete. Dilan still had to fight the fog brought on by sedation, but he remembered enough. He had a nightmare. Aeleus came in to check on him. Something wrong with his back.

If he was in a proper bed, that was good. That meant Even was able to stop whatever it was.

His voice was hoarse from screaming the night before. "Nauseous. Sore. Cold." He worked his jaw and managed to turn his head the other way to relieve his stiff neck.

His eyes opened a little more, and he could finally focus again. Enough to see Aeleus. ....Or was it Lexaeus? He frowned slightly. "What about you? Are you...you again?" The frown turned into a scowl when he saw the tether securing his wrist to the bedrail. No wonder he couldn't get up.

"What...?"

[abidingstoic]

"I'm me. No one else." Another gentle touch, this one pulling the loose dreadlocks out of Dilan's face once he settled again. It was a slightly ambiguous answer, true--but while Aeleus and Lexaeus were both him, in a sense, they were distinctly different entities nonetheless. For the moment, Aeleus was simply Aeleus, and echoing Dilan's concerns back at him, calm and reassuring.

That was good, though. Sore, nauseous, cold--well, maybe not good, but expected, appropriate reactions that were well within the parameters of post-operative discomfort. Relieving, to know that he wasn't actively in pain anymore, or reacting poorly to the sedatives or anesthetic. That meant they could just get him cleaned up, and make sure he was as calm as they could hope for before tapering off the sedatives. "I'm sorry. But you need to stay still for a little while longer, Dilan. I need to get you cleaned up, and you need to rest; you shouldn't strain your stitches by moving around too much just yet, and you're at risk of falling until the medicine is out of your system."

Aeleus sighed, offering Dilan an apologetic look--but still, he didn't sound like he was open to discussion or willing to change his mind about it, either. He dipped his cloth into the basin and began the clean up job, carefully holding the wing steady with his free hand to make sure it wouldn't get jostled--and that Dilan wouldn't jerk or flail it--too much.

[windlancer]

He still didn't know why he needed to be tied to the bed--after all, he could just stay here, warm and languid, floating in the haze of the sedatives while Aeleus wiped the blood from his arm...

Except he was looking at his arm. Aeleus wasn't anywhere near it. He was somewhere towards his back. ...And it felt wrong. So very, very wrong. With the warm water and gentle pressure, the blood came off relatively easy, revealing the pearly white scales that had hardened in the last few hours. It was trembling and twitching now, trying to pull away from Aeleus's touch. Dilan was struggling against the sedatives, trying desperately to make sense of what was wrong with his body. His nausea was becoming more intense. He grumbled in protest, trying to shift away from Aeleus.

Something was wrong.

Dilan finally shifted his body away. Of course the wing stayed outstretched in Aeleus's hands...and that one attempt to move was all he could manage under sedation. He swallowed the bile at the back of his throat. He couldn't even manage to be genuinely afraid, and that was all the more concerning. What had they put in that IV?

"...what happened to me?" he managed, throat dry and cracked. "What are you doing?"