sleepyhollowed | IC Inbox for redshiftrp

[The blindfold just makes Carlisle's failure feel worse somehow; he rubs the back of his neck, grateful Kieran can't see how he fidgets immediately.]

You need not thank me for visiting you when I am partially to blame for your condition, Mister Kieran.

[Been here all of a minute, and he's a party pooper already.]

[Wow, Debbie, way to be a downer.]

Like I said before, if it weren't fer you, my 'condition' would be a lot worse.

I'd probably be dead. Or I wouldn't have any eyes at all. Or both.

So, I'm gonna thank you fer comin' and fer yer help. Now go ahead and take a seat if you want.

[SO THERE.]

[Kieran's insistence that what Carlisle did was the better outcome gives the clergyman pause; he'd been making that exact argument, desperately trying to cling to the notion that he still had some value left as a healer -- as a person -- when he'd been chastised for pushing himself too far, putting all of them in danger. He'd chastised himself plenty after they'd taken Kieran to the medbay, forcing himself to swallow down his internal frustration before he let it consume him; with Ben, he'd tried to brush it off, given he'd been there in the heat of the moment, had to fight off an uncontrolled abomination himself. However, Qubit's reprimanding him was seemingly the last straw, and with it, what confidence and self-worth he still had crumbled. He had nearly let his bitterness consume him when the Redshift took them.

But the man who has all the reason in the world to be angry with his failure is the one adamantly insisting on thanking him. He feels young again, an adolescent on the cusp of manhood standing forever in the shadow of his disappointed father while his uncles insist he is worthy of praise. He crosses his arms stiffly, visibly embarrassed as he tries to sort out just how he feels about that -- about having some modicum of his value as a person handed back to him.

He nods, only to remember Kieran can't see him.]

Y- yes, of course. Thank you.

[Carlisle can be a stubborn thing, but the moment someone gives him an order, he tends to fall right in line. He takes the seat as he's told, the chair scratching audibly on the floor as he moves it. He clears his throat, trying to distance himself from his thoughts.]

I... assume others have been to visit you.

[If Kieran were privy to the thoughts crossing through Carlisle's mind, he'd tell him a simple truth: Carlisle has value, no matter what, and his work is a testament to that value. Not the other way around.]

[It would also make him a hypocrite.]

[Kieran grew up with a sense of worth dictated entirely by his ability--or lack thereof--to work. From a young age, he'd had to strike out on his own, fulfilling tasks in exchange for some food and a bed, with no job guaranteed as steady. As long as he was useful, he'd live another day. The same mantra carried him through the rest of his life, even as an outlaw.]

[So, he gets it. He gets having one's worth tied directly with what they can do, and how any sort of restriction placed on one's ability to be of some help to others is far more damaging emotionally than the physical manifestation of limitation itself. It's why he can't be angry at Carlisle for not returning his sight completely--how could he disparage someone who tried to bring back his sense of usefulness by sacrificing his own?]

[Losing his eyes was a setback that made it so he couldn't prove that he had value to the rest of Anchor, and he had to face that every day. If it weren't for the continued reassurances from his friends... well... this would be an entirely different conversation.]

[And maybe that's where he can help Carlisle.]

Yeah! Lots of folk have been comin' over. And if they can't make it, then they'll call on the communicator.

[Kieran walks by Carlisle after hearing that scrape against the floor, mapping where he's moved the chair to remember for later. It'd be too awkward to correct him otherwise, especially when it sounds like Carlisle is already uncomfortable.]

[He finds his way to the bed and sits down on its edge, cocking his head to where he can approximate Carlisle's location. He's getting better at that.]

Ben, uh, Ben calls [it's still so weird to use that terminology...] pretty much every day.

Ah. Ben.

[Just a pinch of hesitation there, awkwardness instilled in his tone. Not dislike, but trepidation, almost fear in saying his name.]

I have... spoken with him. He is quite protective of you.

[Oooooh boy, that doesn't sound super.]

He-he sure is.

[Although it's something Kieran appreciates, he's also sympathetic towards anyone who manages to somehow catch Ben's ire. Then again, considering how gentle his friend is, said person must have messed up spectacularly for that to happen.]

[Which leads to the main question...]

Didja make him mad or somethin'?

Undoubtedly. He contacted me shortly after the, um.

[Incident.]

Well, after what happened, and our chat could have gone better from both of us.

[That’s gonna be a major y i k e s on this end, Carlisle.]

[But Kieran plays it cool.]

[Which means he’s full-on wincing at the prospects of how that conversation could have gone, and is doing absolutely nothing to hide it.]

I’m sure he just needs some time to cool off and then everything will be just fine!

[He’s not very convincing.]

[No, he sure isn't, and his external wincing only makes Carlisle do the same internally. His eyes trail to his gloved hands; no need to maintain eye contact to appear more put-together than he is, he supposes.]

Perhaps. I cannot blame him for what he thinks.

[Sure, Carlisle was irritated when they actually spoke, but to be fair, he was dealing with a lot at that point. They both probably were.]

[It feels like a taboo question to ask, but Kieran can't help it. Despite being at the center of the incident, he truly doesn't know much of what happened between the others involved--and it's something he feels bad about. Hell, he feels guilty for getting attacked in the first place and putting them in that position.]

What'd he say? M-Maybe I can help out.

[A half-dozen things comes to mind. Ben had suggested he'd likely rot, reanimate, and/or strip Kieran of his free will if he tried to heal the man's eyes a second time, and that he wanted to use Kieran as a test subject. Implied he didn't know what he was doing enough to make a concerted effort to do it right the next time. Said it was only a matter of time before something like this happened again. Decided it wasn't safe for him to be around people, most of all his friends.

And yet, here Carlisle is, sitting in the hospital room of one of said friends. Ben wasn't entirely wrong in his assessment, nor was he entirely correct, but... his words cut deeply, deeper than Carlisle realized several days later. He rubs at the back of his neck, the fabric of his coat quiet as it rubs against itself at the joints.]

It matters not, truthfully. Perhaps it is as you said, and everything will be fine one day.

[Or he'll just avoid Ben forever. That might be more reasonable.]

[Kieran shakes his head.]

It ain't... I mean... I know what I said, but, it ain't gonna do any real good if you leave it alone.

[He plays with this thumbs for a few moments before continuing.]

Yer both stubborn fellers, but that doesn't mean ya can't see eye to eye about it.

...

Though, I ain't one to talk about seein' anythin', but that's fer a completely different reason.

[SEE CARLISLE HE MADE A JOKE DON'T BEAT YOURSELF UP.]

[Macabre as that joke might have been, it gets an audible chuckle out of Carlisle. Congrats, Kieran, you did something few can claim: made Carlisle Longinmouth genuinely laugh.]

You ought not make jokes about your condition. You never know when it will be the death of you.

[Says the guy who has been dead at least once. His tone is light, the humor appreciated as it lightens the tension.]

[Huzzah!]

[Kieran smiles easily now that he knows the heavy atmosphere's been at least somewhat lifted.]

Eh, I ain't funny enough fer my jokes to kill someone. But I'll keep it in mind.

[His shoulders relax. He's faced his own death enough that he can joke around about the topic, too. Gallows humor for everyone.]

S-So you'll try talkin' to him again? It doesn't hafta be now, but soon?

[Carlisle gets that distinct feeling that even before this incident, Kieran was no stranger to death. It's unfortunate when it's a state of normalcy; though Carlisle saw plenty of it in life, he's still getting used to actually being dead himself.

He lets out a quiet sigh.]

I will consider it, as you are so insistent.

[But only because he'd literally do anything for you at this point, Kieran. Duty-bound and all.]

[Kieran's smile widens at Carlisle's agreement.]

Great! Thank you so much!

[He has no idea that it has to do with duty or debts. As far as Kieran's concerned, Carlisle is a friend simply doing what friends do.]

[He reaches out with a hand, approximating where he thinks Carlisle's shoulder may be. It takes a try or two, but he eventually manages to grip it with a friendly shake.]

I-If ya need any help, lemme know. I'll back you up. Promise!

[Carlisle stiffens beneath Kieran's grasp, frankly surprised the man would risk touching him until he remembers that Kieran was already blinded by the time he started rotting the ground all around them. Thankfully, he's neither overflowing with necrotic energies, nor draining the life out of everything within reach to stabilize himself, and so Kieran's flesh remains intact.]

Again, you are thanking me for something for which I ought not be thanked... but I admittedly appreciate your support. I'm not sure just how you would go about 'backing me up,' however.

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