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fandomweekly2025-04-25 01:39 pm
crabkick) wrote in fandomweekly2025-04-25 01:39 pm
Entry tags:
Blood Red
Theme Prompt: #258 – Scars
Title: Blood Red.
Fandom: Original.
Rating/Warnings: PG13 for mild blood and description of wounds.
Bonus: Yes.
Word Count: 521.
Summary: Edwin is not quite alive. This does not mean he cannot be injured, however.
Edwin is not typically the sort to part with his clothing even under the most dire of circumstances; but injury now necessitates that he remove his coat and shirt, which he does of all the slow trepidation of someone who would prefer death to nudity—even partial.
Cam is patient, however, and Edwin is a hardy sort, being something slightly to the left of a living creature (or dead one), so he waits. Edwin's pale fingers unbutton his coat first, then his waistcoat, then his shirt. He discards them all in a dark pile on the floor and sits there in the chair Cam has pulled out for him, shoulders squared and hunched.
He is covered in scars.
Big ones, and small ones, and thin ones, and thick ones. They fleck his white body, the muted, ghostly pink color of a grave worm—save for one that runs down his front from clavicle to groin. It is thin and puckered and straight, a color just shy of blood red. A surgical scar.
Cam knows Edwin doesn’t like it when people look at him too hard, so he glances away and prepares first aid kit and gets to work.
“Got it on the autopsy table,” Edwin says after a long moment of silence. “I think.”
“You think?” Cam asks quietly, mopping away blood from the long gash on Edwin's shoulder with a soapy cloth. Edwin grunts. His fingers twitch for a cigarette—but Cam does not and never will allow him to smoke in his room.
“Can’t exactly remember, can I?” Edwin doesn’t flinch when Cam’s needle first kisses his skin, or when it comes back out again. “That’s what I figure it’s from, anyway.”
“Does it hurt?” Cam asks.
“No. Itches sometimes, though.”
More silence as Cam stitches up the gash. Edwin's beetle-dark eyes watch the dust motes float in the shaft of failing sun that filters in from the window. Cam glances up from his work now and again to watch his face. His expression is, as always, somewhere between neutral and sour, and difficult to read. He doesn’t look like he’s in pain, but Cam has seen him take a spray of buckshot before and hardly complain, so he doesn’t put any stock in that assumption.
He finishes by wrapping the shoulder in fresh gauze. Then he goes to his closet and fetches a night shirt—which is only barely big enough to fit Edwin, tall and gangling as he is. Edwin dresses quickly and pulls his bloody coat back on. His shoulders relax a little. Cam hesitates. Then—
“Do you ever—”
“Wonder how I got like this?” Edwin finishes. Cam can’t meet his gaze, but he can see him shrug in his peripheral vision. “Every day. Every night. But wondering never did anyone any good.”
He goes over to the window and opens it, and steps up onto the sill. His boots barely disturb the dust. He doesn’t thank Cam before he jumps. Cam watches him land on an adjacent roof, feather-light, look up, and spare him a nod. Then Edwin turns and disappears into the darkening city.
Title: Blood Red.
Fandom: Original.
Rating/Warnings: PG13 for mild blood and description of wounds.
Bonus: Yes.
Word Count: 521.
Summary: Edwin is not quite alive. This does not mean he cannot be injured, however.
Edwin is not typically the sort to part with his clothing even under the most dire of circumstances; but injury now necessitates that he remove his coat and shirt, which he does of all the slow trepidation of someone who would prefer death to nudity—even partial.
Cam is patient, however, and Edwin is a hardy sort, being something slightly to the left of a living creature (or dead one), so he waits. Edwin's pale fingers unbutton his coat first, then his waistcoat, then his shirt. He discards them all in a dark pile on the floor and sits there in the chair Cam has pulled out for him, shoulders squared and hunched.
He is covered in scars.
Big ones, and small ones, and thin ones, and thick ones. They fleck his white body, the muted, ghostly pink color of a grave worm—save for one that runs down his front from clavicle to groin. It is thin and puckered and straight, a color just shy of blood red. A surgical scar.
Cam knows Edwin doesn’t like it when people look at him too hard, so he glances away and prepares first aid kit and gets to work.
“Got it on the autopsy table,” Edwin says after a long moment of silence. “I think.”
“You think?” Cam asks quietly, mopping away blood from the long gash on Edwin's shoulder with a soapy cloth. Edwin grunts. His fingers twitch for a cigarette—but Cam does not and never will allow him to smoke in his room.
“Can’t exactly remember, can I?” Edwin doesn’t flinch when Cam’s needle first kisses his skin, or when it comes back out again. “That’s what I figure it’s from, anyway.”
“Does it hurt?” Cam asks.
“No. Itches sometimes, though.”
More silence as Cam stitches up the gash. Edwin's beetle-dark eyes watch the dust motes float in the shaft of failing sun that filters in from the window. Cam glances up from his work now and again to watch his face. His expression is, as always, somewhere between neutral and sour, and difficult to read. He doesn’t look like he’s in pain, but Cam has seen him take a spray of buckshot before and hardly complain, so he doesn’t put any stock in that assumption.
He finishes by wrapping the shoulder in fresh gauze. Then he goes to his closet and fetches a night shirt—which is only barely big enough to fit Edwin, tall and gangling as he is. Edwin dresses quickly and pulls his bloody coat back on. His shoulders relax a little. Cam hesitates. Then—
“Do you ever—”
“Wonder how I got like this?” Edwin finishes. Cam can’t meet his gaze, but he can see him shrug in his peripheral vision. “Every day. Every night. But wondering never did anyone any good.”
He goes over to the window and opens it, and steps up onto the sill. His boots barely disturb the dust. He doesn’t thank Cam before he jumps. Cam watches him land on an adjacent roof, feather-light, look up, and spare him a nod. Then Edwin turns and disappears into the darkening city.
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