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The road lay ahead like a tarmac ribbon, work and scuffed from years of movement. A while line ran down the centre, dappled and scarred by the potholed concrete. The cold lay heavy like a blanket, each breath fogging and floating away as if it were smoke over a fire and periodically the cold pressed in further, carried by a wind that howled like a wolf to the moon. The usual busy street was silent, pooled intermittently with artificial light, orange and flickering in some place, benches littered with graffiti that usually held shopping bags and people glued to a mobile phone now stood like dormant sentries, yet footsteps echoed loudly, bouncing off the closed shop windows.
Lyndon James Beckett was drunk…again. Though, albeit, not totally drunk in the cool night air, but not totally sober either. He tumbled out of the last remaining bar in Evermore, a bouncer dressed all in black yelling ‘Get outta here!’ behind him and the Diviner now was left to beat the pavement. In usual Lyndon style, he had drunk nearly two bottles of single malt and thought he’d spotted one of the many ghosts that plagued his life. He was a fighter, always had been, and his fists just happened to move that inch quicker than his mind did and so, after spotting whom he thought was one of the men who usurped him from his London-Throne-room, he swung…and missed.
His first error that evening.
His second error was to go for a second chance at a hit…This time however it connected, straight to the guys front teeth. Lyndon’s already scarred knuckles split on impact with the tooth and while the diviner turned to hold his now bloody hand, the red-hot rogue running down his fingers, the poor victim of this attack reached for a bottle…
The next thing Lyndon realised was the bouncer of the bar throwing him onto the cold tarmac and shouting loudly. Shaking hands reached up to run through his short brown locks, yet was met some something warm and slightly sticky, looking at his hands he realised there was more blood there and instead of panic, a void laugh bubbled off the diviner’s lips. He hauled himself up from the ground and steadied his swaying frame before reaching up to run his fingers over his forehead to find the inevitable cut and finding what he presumed was a shard of glass. Plucking that out, he flicked it to the ground with a soft ‘ting’.
His feet begun to move, echoing loudly in the cold silence. Blinking away the drops of blood that pooled from his brow and dripped slowly down his cheek, the Diviner began patting his pockets until he found a small, squished box. Cigarettes, Lyndon’s only other vice aside from drinking and something he had tried to quit for a long time. Fumbling around in the packet, he found an intact cigarette in the packet and lit up, taking a long inhale, holding…Then a long and loud exhale.
Stumbling over to one of the many benches that lined the road in Evermore’s centre, he reclined back and finally caught sight of his white shirt. “Damn it…” He snapped into the still air. Blood stained his shirt in drips and drops, some smeared from his knuckles, others like raindrops on glass drips and drops all over. He sighed heavily and lifted his cigarette to his lips, holding it firmly and taking another long drag. With his cigarette out of hand, Lyndon began trying to scrub off the blood with his equally bloody hand, cursing himself again and again for continuing to smear the blood. As this went on, the ash on his cigarette begun to slowly drift down onto his black trousers.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen…
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Time. Always a long thing. Passing ever so slowly or too fast but never the same. One able to count time so easily, having nothing to do but to count each minute as it comes. All the time spent in darkness and solitude does that to you. Keeping your mind active, not letting darkness take over you fully. Letting some light in even if you think all the light have gone out. Not to lose hope. It was something The Braelynd new well of. All years spent in captivity still taking its toll on her. Years have passed since they’ve been freed but it still felt like yesterday to her. Not one day have passed where her mind handed went back to that dark place. That still haunts her dreams. Willow was like many of the Celestials still haunted by all that had happened to them. Spending countless years in captivity. All were innocent, not knowing what they had done to deserve it. Most won’t fully recover. Never to forget the past and all that happened. Willow knew too well of it. Whilst watching as her brother Elias tried to pretend he was over it. That it didn’t affect him anymore. Willow was able to see through his act knowing her brother too well, seeing through his acts and proseonors. Each person copes with grief and their own problems in their own ways. Willow was still dealing with her problems each day as it comes. Slowly but surely, hoping that one day she’d be back to the person who she once was. A ball of light, for now she needed to find the light in her darkness. To bring back her celestial self back. Finding herself once again.
Willow wanted to find her place. Where she’d fit in well. A job or something here in the city. Keeping herself busy, keeping her mind occupied. Away from all her thoughts before they take over. Willow was the one who made the decision to stay. Both her and Elias could of easily escaped, running far away they could away from the celestials and everyone. Yet the last time they did that it didn’t end up well, leading back to where they were. Making a decision to stay and fight, something that was very unlike her but it was the best chance they had to survive. To be part of a family rather than pair of nomads. Willow was tired of running away spending the better part of her life aways travelling to other places. Wanting to stay in once place for a while, being part of a community. Feeling that she was part of one with the other celestials. Maybe where she always belonged even if she knew her brother Elias didn’t feel the same way. Showing that they came from the same constellation but didn't come from the same star. Two were two different people. Different in their own ways. Willow was able to see it so clearly. Now more than before.
So few months back she decided to take up a job at the local hospital having trained many years ago to be a nurse. Following up since she had escaped to freshen up on modern medicine. Back before she was training to be one but things put a stop to it, so now Willow wanted to follow her dreams. Working helped to keep her mind active, away from her dark thoughts and struggles. A way to escape all her troubles even if it was only for a little while. Finishing up a long shift, the Redhead gave her hand over to the night shift nurse who was on the ward. Giving them any updates or anything they needed to know to do with patients and what not. Handing over her work so she could go to clock off. Willow looked at the watch on her wrist, surprised at the time seeing she’d gone over many over her usual finishing time. Having to cover someone else's shift until the person was in. Something Willow usually did, she didn’t mind it thought. Just the only downside was the tiredness. With barely hours of sleep. Sleep was something she struggled with, barely sleeping as it is. Still suffering from night terrors.
Willow changed out her uniform into her normal clothes grabbing all her belongings out of her locker. Making her way out of the the hospital, heading out to the empty streets of Evermore. The only ones around this time were the ones leaving bars. The everyday drunks, having seeing many ones stumble out of bars early hours of the morning. The usual scene. Nothing really surprised her now. Seeing how bad it all was now. Passing a bench she spotted someone sitting on the bench, looking quite quite ragged to say the least. Able to notice with the light of the streetlight that the mans white shirt was stained with red. His hands were all bloody and bruised. “You picked up another fight didn’t you?” She remarked stepping towards him for once stopping instead of walking past. Willow had noticed the same man on many occasions in the same situation.
“May I?” She motioned to the cigarette in his hand, wanting a few drags. A bad habit she’d picked up but it helped her. Deciding to sit down beside him, exhausted from working a long shift. “You should get those cuts looked at, they look deep. Probably get infected if not” She mused pointing out his hands that were looking worse for wear. “I can look at them if you want? I work at the hospital?” Willow didn’t know why she was offering a stranger, a drunken one at that her aid. Something quite unlike her but was feeling the need to help. Able to sense if she didn’t help him he wouldn’t bother to either. Willow could see that he wasn’t one of the type of people to seek help just to get worse for others like her to help instead.
A soft voice lilted from the shadows like a flower, beaming in the light. The sound caught the Diviners attention as slightly familiar, but a stark contrast the silence that had been pressing into him for a while. As she motioned to the cigarette hanging from his lips, he made a limp gesture towards in and nodded.
The first thing he noticed in his slightly blurred vision was her vibrant hair. Redhead, not usual something Lyndon liked but this little redhead suited her locks. He forced a smile in return to her comment about his knuckles and lifted them to his eye line. “You know I only come in when its serious.” He muttered. She worked at the hospital, and if his memory served correctly, had possible stitched him up once or twice before…or maybe it was something else, his head was too busy swimming.
As she mentioned helping, he chuckled “No, ’tis not so deep as a well nor so wide as a church-door, but ’tis enough.” The diviners quoted, his strong cockney accent snaking around the words beautifully. Lyndon caught her gaze and flashed her a smirk, or the best he could muster, but as he did, a pain ricocheted down his face and he felt a path of hot blood begin to make its way further down his face. “Okay, Maybe just this one needs sorting?” He added, looking toward her once more. “Just no hospitals? I don’t think I could quite deal with that again.”
It wasn’t a fear, he repeated in his head, hoping that would almost translate to her the more he thought it. Frankly, it wasn’t, It was merely the fact that since arriving in this town, he’d been to the hospital in Evermore far more often than he should have and the staff had started reporting each incident to the police, another stress the diviner didn’t need.
After a brief moment, Lyndon shifted and looked to her. “Have you just finished?” he asked softly before smiling, just a touch “You must be used to guys like me rolling in at this time of morning.” Stretching his fingers out, he inspected the wounds over his knuckles and shook his head. “I need to stop picking fights…This place isn’t at all like London…” The male shook his head, realising just how different the city was from his hometown. “People here swing back.” He added, gesturing to his forehead and letting out a sigh.
“Do you have some thread? I just need this sewing up…”
It was surprising how much she’d seen going on working at the hospital, in the past year or months. Seeing it all happening right there and then. Picking up on all the usual and common occurrences. To see who were all the regular people, ones who was always visiting A&E. Most were for not medical visits. Who just like using up the hospitals time. Whilst in this case it was the drunks who cause most problems, friday and saturdays mostly. Not surprising Willow when she was easily able to spot this specific drunk from a crowd of people. Remembering other nurses at the hospital complaining trying to change their turns not to attend to his cuts whenever he came in after a fight. Meaning it was mostly Willow’s job, used to cleaning up peoples cuts. Yet if she remembers so she was never given a proper name. It was something that people like him did, giving another name so the hospital staff wouldn’t be able to log them in the system. A free ride all the time.
Willow took the cigarette from him as she sat down beside him. Taking a drag of it, enjoying the hit of nicotine. Needing it after a long shift and everything else going on in her life. “Come in when it’s serious? Don’t you come in at least once a week?” She mused laughing hearing his commenting. Adding to how she’d picked up on things. Or that she was stalking him almost, that she wasn’t. Just in the same place at the same time. “Oh how I don’t miss London” The Redhead laughed shaking her head barely understanding a word he had just said. “So your knuckles will be fine but your head isn’t” Noticing now his forehead was bleeding, he was probably concussed. “No hospitals” He wasn’t being easy. “You know I don’t have a first aid kit in my bag” Willow joked whilst taking another drag of the cigarette, she wasn't that health aware. Not prepared for all emergencies.
“Worked a double to cover someone else” The usual for hospital like her working 24 7. Working on barely any sleep but it helped to keep her mind at ease. “I’ve done my fair share of fixing people up. You know a lot of staff try to avoid being the ones sew you up” She mused, always being the one landed with the job. Willow had noticed how his hands were covered in different wounds both new and old ones. “You really do, most people here know how to fight back. Harder than you would think” Hinting towards the supernatural, still she was unsure if he was one. Finding that most people here in the city are adding to why she needed to be careful. “Let me run in and grab a medical kit from friend Rashesh’s office, he’s already clocked off so” Adding to that she wasn’t really wanting to head back to work where she’d just left knowing if she did she’d never be able to escape.
She was laughing at him. It wasn’t something that happened a lot to the Diviner, having a girl muse over his words. He cocked his head towards her slightly and smiled a little. “Its usually serious.” He added simply and winked, his usual charm bubbly to the surface a little. The cold air was sobering him up, something he usually prevented with more liquor, but for some reason his hands weren’t beginning to twitch for a glass, his knees weren’t bouncing. Maybe all he needed was conversation?
Since leaving London, Lyndon hadn’t quite realised how dependent on people he had become. He hated being alone. The world pressed against him like cement, the feeling of drowning would creep over him in the silence and the ticking of a clock or the chime of a bell would send him reeling, Even the sound of his own tinnitus would drive him mad. Raising his bloody hand, he is rubbing at the back of his neck.
“London used to be my safe place.” He said and then snorted a chuckle. “Well, not safe…but…Safe.” He muttered, mostly for himself. As she mentioned his knuckles, he raised his hand and inspected it, nodding slowly. “I heal quickly.” He added before watching her, cocking his head slightly. “A doctor without a first aid kit? Well now I’m disappointed.” He purred.
As she said that most staff avoid him, he frowned slightly, trying to recall his more recent visits. It was true, there was a lot of waiting for him, but it didn’t truly make sense. “Why?” The Diviner asked, the frown still etched on his features. “I always make sure to be polite…” He muttered. Lyndon was a mutterer, mostly because what he had to say isn’t polite or just, and so he got used to muttering a lot.
“I fought for a living.” Lyndon mentioned, watching her carefully. “Its what I do. I fight. Whether its training others or myself. I live and breathe a fight. Sober, I’m pretty much untouchable.” He said simply before shaking his head. “Scotch, Whiskey…It all inhibits the senses…” He sighed slightly. He wasn’t making much of an impression.
As she mentioned that she had a friend with a medical kit, he stood, swayed, then steadied himself. “Come on then.” He said and offered her his slightly cleaner hand. “The blood I get on this shirt, the harder it will be to bleach out.”
Since first starting at the hospital Willow had seen so many different things. How many so called injuries happened. Ones that people always tried to admit happened in a different way rather than to admit how it actually happened. People to embarrassed but Willow always knew when people were lying. “You keep telling yourself that love” She mused winking back to the male, remembering how he would be flirting with all the hospital staff whilst being patched up. Willow knew what his game with, like many others like him. Seeing it all before. “Have you ever tried signing up at a gym, or get a punching bag. To take your anger out on something other than others?” She wondered pointing out the obvious, almost in a way of telling him he needs to find a better solution. “Or I can always send you a bill of all the hours and medical expenses you have wasted in past year or so” Each time when it came to paying the medical bill at the end of it he ducked out and was gone. “Hospitals aren’t free over hear whilst back over in England” In these days if you didn’t have any insurance you were screwed finding that out at least. “Your choice really” She shrugged looking over to him as she took another drag of the cigarette she’d stolen from him. “Not saying I’ve not enjoyed your company when patching you up” Willow added chuckling a little, he was the least of her annoying cases back the hospital.
Hearing him say about his safe place hit home for her almost. Willow had lost her safe place a long time ago, not finding another one. Knowing that here in Evermore was no one of them. “I’m not a doctor” She added reminding him. “I’ve seen a lot of stress that doctors go through and I don’t want to be one” Preferring the life of a nurse practitioner instead. “I like helping people, always have. Always will” The reason why she choose to be a nurse to help others, in a way it helped her. “You keep telling yourself that” Willow reminded him knowing if he was polite he wouldn’t end up in the situations he keep finding himself in. Hearing as he spoke of fighting she could tell it was his passion almost. Something he’s driven to even if in some ways he finds it backfires on him. “Maybe you should try to be sober more” Hinting to him almost, shrugging her shoulders at him. “Come on let me patch you up before you list of all the different types of alcohol to me” She mused standing up as she took a final dragged and put the cigarette out, standing on it with her shoe. Willow took his hand watching as he was trying to steady himself, it was more of her helping him instead of him helping her up. Willow looked to his white shirt that was no longer white as it was more blood soaked. “I think that shirt is too late to be saved” Rolling her eyes, mocking him almost. Forgetting all her problems. They made their way to the hospital standing outside of the doors the Redhead turned to him. “I’m going inside to grab the first aid kit. You sure you’ll be alright? Not going to pass out or get into another fight before I get back?” She teased him almost but she’d be only a few minutes to sneak in and out hopefully not being noticed or dragged back in to cover another shift.
Lyndon chuckled as she winked back at him, knowing she was merely entertaining the sobering Diviner. He shrugged at her comment about the gym and shook his head. “Fighting is what I do.” He said simply and shrugged. “If I don’t fight, what else is there?” What Willow failed to realise is Lyndon had no one. No one in Evermore had his back, no one in London had his back. He didn’t have family and he certainly didn’t have friends, he was all alone and fighting gave him purpose. Usually the fights were in a ring while he was training others in combat, but in Evermore he hadn’t quite gotten his act together enough to offer his services to his ambassador.
As she mentioned him ducking from bills, he frowned slightly. “Its not like I can’t afford it. I do pay it, just not while Im…well fucked.” He cussed and winced at his own word. “sorry, not the language I should use.” He sighed and shook his head. “I do call and pay, every penny. When I come in the only reason is, is because I’ve waited a day and the bleeding doesn’t stop. Or I know it’s a worst gash than I’ve had to sew myself.” He begun gesturing to a couple scars the littered his arms and one particularly nasty, jagged scar across his chest that had him unbuttoning his shirt to show her. “I usually do the patch ups myself…But some, mostly my back or head, I either can’t reach, or I can’t sew straight.”
As he caught sight of the cigarette, he raised his hand and carefully took it from her lips. “You fail to realise, when you’re on duty, I wait till you’re free.” He muttered as he placed the remainder of the cigarette between his lips, taking a long drag and exhaling slowly and replacing it between her fingers.
As she mentioned being sober more, Lyndon watched her for a second and shook his head. “I’ve nothing to be sober for…”
As she stood, he followed in suit and he waited by the doors “This was my favourite shirt.” He mumbled as they went, bumping her shoulder as she rolled her eyes at him. “Ill be fine.” Lyndon said and then rolled his eyes as she mentioned a fight. “Hurry up. Once you’ve patched me up, I’m taking you for breakfast.” He said, as if it was the most common thing in the world.
As she went in, he glanced around and blew out a breath. The problem with being Lyndon was he sobered far too quickly, especially in the crisp air and the world once again begun to press against him. He hoped Willow would hurry up because the pain of his forehead was becoming much more than an ache and the volume of the city waking up was starting up like a symphony.
After finishing a long shift the first thing somebody wants is to go back home. Back to bed. To sleep the rest or the next day away. As a way for the body to refill themselves ready for their next 12 hour shift. A way that a typical nurse or doctor lives by. Yet Willow was always the one to not sleep much. The time when he mind does clock off, her dreams are filled with the nightmares of her past that haunts her. The Celestial had accepted a long time ago that she’d never fully recover from all that had happened. The whole kidnapped and held captive for better part of 5 decades. It was enough to break any normal person let alone someone like her. Willow was always one who learnt how to put on a brave face. To shake off all her problems. Letting everybody know that she was fine whilst deep down she was far of it. One to ignore help. The irony in it she was the one who was giving others help. The opposite what she was doing. Her brother and other Celestial let Willow deal with the way she chooses to cope with her ordeal and depression on her own. Whilst Elias choose to get away from the city for first time since finding each other the two stars distanced each other. Both having their own opinions. Willow wanting to stay whilst Elias wanted to escape.
Missing her brother dearly but she knew it what he wanted. Willow wasn’t going to be the one to stop him. The Redhead turned back to the drunken male in front of her. “There’s always a different way to go about fighting. To choose what you want to fight for. Rather than a bar burl each night” She mused sounding slightly sarcastic, pointing out the whole truth. “There must be fight clubs somewhere in the city, if they’re still around. Full of people like you itching to fight but with resentment behind it” Opening up his opens with his choice if he chooses to follow up in it. It was something that she gave out too many people him that she patches up late at night. Maybe it wasn’t the most professional and best advice but still was something. Willow was one who liked to go to the gym or train back in the castle with other Celestials. To burn off her frustration, let all out but in the right way.
Hearing his explanation to why he tends not to pay for his hospital bills, the redhead gave him a judgmental look. Almost rolling her eyes at his excuse. “Isn’t that every night?” She corrected, reminding him almost. “One day you are going to get an infection and it’ll be too late then you're screwed” Then there’s no cure to be honest only cure there would be if magic would be involved. Yet it wasn’t exactly one to use only for the supernatural side. “You don’t hate the fact that your covered in scars for the rest of your life, ones that never go away?” She wondered looking at some of the scars he was showing her, some old and some were new. Yet still very permanent. Willow was one who liked to be pure of heart almost, unmarked. Old fashioned in her ways like many Celestials yet she’s swaying to getting some tattoos with how it was like now.
Willow was done almost stealing the cigarette away from him, letting him have it back and finish it off. “Because I’m only one who puts up with you? Or that your stalking me?” She marvelled, looking to him hoping the second option wasn’t true. Her anxiety was always on a high since being freed from captivity that someone was following her. Fearing that it would be all happening away. Willow felt a sense of pity in him hearing that he had nothing to be sober for. “I’m sure there be something or you may to find it” Hearing her own words we’re making her feel that she was starting to sound like a therapist but she wasn’t trying to. “Not anymore” Willow joked to hearing as he was complaining about his favourite shirt being ruined. “Your own fault”
She was taken aback almost hearing as he offered to take her to breakfast after, thinking that after she’d just go back home after and try to clock off. “Sure just to warn you I may fall asleep any time” Probably not after she has a few cups of coffee to keep her going like how it’s usually done. Willow left Lyndon outside of the hospital to go through back into the building. Instead going down to the morgue part of the hospital where another Celestial works inside the hospital. Working with dead body creeps her out with all the unwanted spirits lurking about since she knew that it wasn’t just humans taken down here. That was something Willow heard down the pipeline. Willow used her work ID to unlock the door, going to pick up the first aid kit placed on the door. Grabbing what she needed before hurrying out. Slipping out of the hospital, unnoticed. Seeing Lyndon outside waiting for her. “Come on let me see the damage” She chimed in as she came back over dragging him back over to the bench where there was most light. “If I had a dollar to how many times I’ve stitched people like you I’ll be rich” Willow mussed, it was one of the jobs at the hospital that was her least favorite. Yet the one she always found herself doing.
As she spoke, Lyndon remained quiet. He merely watched her as she said there was another way. Little did she know…Lyndon was a fighter, he had to be, because he was terrified that if you took the fight out of him there’d be nothing left to have. Lyndon grew up fighting, whether it was his peers or whether it was his father, fighting was in his blood. Why would he change now?
“Evermore has fight clubs.” He said simply “But they’re layered with rules to the point where you can’t actually beat your opponent. It’s a tap out sort of affair, too soft for me.” He said simply and released a sigh. “Look, you don’t have to help me. I’ll go sew it together myself…” He muttered, knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to see to sew it right.
“Like I said. Not every night. Usually I do it myself.” He said simply and then scoffed at the word infection. “I’ve got a great immune system.” As she mentioned his scars, Lyndon frowned slightly. “My scars show my story.” He said softly. “They’re here forever, and I know exactly how I got every single one.” Lyndon then chuckled. “And no, the majority of these are not from bar fights.” He added, knowing that’s what she’d presume. It was true, most of his scars, especially on his back, are from his father. The scars on his front are mostly from Careen and most of the ones across his arms were from brawls for power back in London. “They show victory…Scars show life. I’m proud of them, even if most of the world turns their nose up at them.”
Glancing back to his shirt as she mentioned it, Lyndon traced the blood smears with his finger and sighed heavily once more. “There’s no chance ill bleach all this out.” He muttered under his breath.
Being left outside, Lyndon sparked up again and took long, smooth drags, exhaling with a small smirk across his lips as the white smoke danced through the air like a river against the cold. When she came back, he wandered after her and sat down beside her, turning to face her. “If I had a dollar for every time someone like you said that, I’m be richer than I already am.” He chimed back with a snort.
It was true, a lot of the staff in the hospital were judgemental. A lot of them reported Lyndon to the police. However, Willow didn’t, not that he knew about anyway, but whenever he left Willow, he didn’t have a parade by the exits, or a car waiting outside, or to some extent a police van outside his house. She seemed to just get her job done and let him leave peacefully.
Leaning towards her a little more so she could begin, he gestured. “Don’t worry about numbing or anything. Just get sewing. Make me pretty again.” He said, joking about the latter with a chuckle rolling off his lips to finish. He watched her as she prepared before turning his gaze away.
Maybe it was time he should stop getting sewn up so much?
Willow was still trying to wrap her head around everything since being released from captivity and coming back to reality she the present day. Missing out on so much in the few decades that she was kept locked up. Having to catch up on decades filled within the space of few weeks. It always amazes the others to how well and fast her and her brother Elias took to adapt. Even back before the two of them made sure to keep all up to date. Never wanting to be one of the other immortal beings stuck in the present. Something that is more commonly known with other Celestials, especially from her own fraction. Maybe Willow felt more of a push now to adapt so it wouldn’t hold her back to peruse other careers for what she wanted to do. “Just find somewhere eee you can fight but you won’t find yourself lying, beaten up and dying in a gutter somewhere” She persisted a little, something she’s told others like him. Willow wasn’t one of the other nurses who try to pressure other people into seeking help. She’d do it bluntly and straight to the point, but let others find their own way. Knowing people who are looking for help would accept and look for when given.
Sleep was something she felt like doing about now but she knew she’d not sleep even if she tried. Knowing she’d be up for other days until she could get some sleep at least. Struggling with insomnia still but didn’t want any help for it. “I’ll help you don’t worry. If you do it, you’ll even end up stabbing your eye or stitch the wound up all jagged” Willow mused pointing out for what she could see happening. Seeing quite a few home stitching go wrong in her days. “You can send me the bill later on” She smirked teasing him, knowing if she did he’ll end up not paying like many others. “I don’t come cheap either”
With the mention of scars and patching him up himself, Willow was now noticing all the old and new scars that were scattered all other his body. Able to sense and tell that he was telling the truth, and knowing that it may be a lot darker. All the deep rooted issues that he was keeping to himself. “At least it can make a good pick up line, getting a girl or someone to look at your scars. Playing dot to dot” She mused making light of it all rather than press on to being concern for how much percentage of his body was scared. “We all have different things of ourselves that tell a story if it is physical or mental. Scars that can never go away, never forgetter” Willow admitted, turning the conversation to a more darker one but was speaking from her past experiences too. “Everybody got something to hide”
The shirt that he favoured so much was from no return, noticing after she’d pointed it out he soon realized the truth. “Maybe stick to black or darker colour next time” knowing for certain they’ll be a next time. “I’ll be right back” she reminded, reassuring him. The Redhead Celestial went back into the hospital that she’d only just left. Going down and through into the morgue part of the hospital where she knew there was a first aid kit she could easily burrow. With no questions asked. Soon returning to the beaten up male who was no sobering up a little “you know just that is not a good thing” She chuckled pointing out before rolling her eyes to him. Knowing you’ll never change people him him. Using the light from the lamp posts Willow started to stich him up, putting on gloves first. Cleaning up the wound, using antiseptic wipes before sewing it up. Concentrating on doing it right. “The alcohol you already consumed would have done the job already” pointing out the truths. “The cut isn’t that deep so it shouldn’t permanently scar like all the others” Willow reassured lightly as she was finishing it up. Taking off her gloves, disposing of what she’s used. Putting first aid kit back into her bag that she’d return another day. “All done”
Lyndon took in what she was saying, he usually did when she patched him up, but he rolled a shrug from his shoulders and almost scoffed at her words. “You seem to think theres more to live for than that.” He said simply and wet his lips with a quick flick of his tongue. “You have your whole life ahead of you. A life to live. I’m 108 and I’ve already ruined mine.” He grumbled. She was young and had her whole life stretched beyond this moment. Lyndon was an old soul, he’d seen and done more than people do in 1000 years, all condensed into one rather fucked up century.
He couldn’t help but look down as she came on to help him. He was ashamed that once again he needed a patch up, but more ashamed that it was she who had to do the patch up again. He sighed softly and ran his fingers through his red-tainted locks. He chuckled as she said she didn’t come cheap and he rolled his eyes. “When you’re done I’ll send the funds over.” He said simply. He wasn’t used to paying directly after the treatment, he usually left quickly and paid the bill afterwards.
A laugh left his lips as she mentioned dot to dot and he nodded slightly. “Indeed.” He said softly and looked at his cut and scarred hands. As she mentioned everyone having something to hide, he watched her, his eyes narrowing slightly before glancing down. “It seems theres more to you than just the nice nurse.” He said softly.
As she mentioned his shirt, he chuckled again and groaned “It really doesn’t matter.” He said simply. As she began stitched, Lyndon smirked softly “It hurts a lot less when you do it.” He said simply and then pouted slightly. “Really? And here I thought I’d get another beautiful scar for my collection.” He teased.
After she’d finished, He straightened up and nodded. “Thank you.” He said softly and tilted his head. “I wish all scars were this easy to fix.” With that he stood up, his eyes going to the rising sun that was just starting to peek over the horizon. “I’d best let you go…I’ve taken up more of your evening than I should have done.” He then patted his pockets and took out a pen, then took his wallet out and got a scrap of paper, probably a receipt of some variety, from it and scribbled his number down onto the paper. “Here, let me know where to send payment too.”