father abel nightroad. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bloodsugar) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
mayfield_logs2012-02-03 01:42 pm
bloodsugar) wrote in mayfield_logs2012-02-03 01:42 pm
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Who: Cain and Abel
What: All the sadfacing. Mama Abel babbying Cain.
Where: Nightroad residence.
When: Before Mrs. Johnson's phone call on the 1st.
Warnings: Hallucinations/adorable child in pain? Maybe clinical usage of sedatives etc. Nothing too bad here.
It had been several days since Cain had been returned to him -- dumped outside of the hospital like the others, left to endure pain and suffer in the recesses of his own mind. His perpetually smiling, cheerful and upbeat twin-turned-little brother had been reduced to a creature living in constant fear... constant fear, and constant agony. He had gone searching more than once in the recesses of the hospital and pharmacy's stores for drug suitable to ease his suffering; it killed Abel to see Cain this way, down to his bones. There was nothing he could do... nothing, to make this better. It was a game of survival. To keep his brother alive and as painless as possible, until they could discover a means by which to reverse this.
Abel is headed back into the house, a brown paper bag in hand filled with various sedatives and painkillers, clean syringes, and IV bags; Cain was sometimes too terrified to so much as perform the basic functions like eating and spent most of his days sleeping them away, so he had to be sure that his age-regressed twin didn't simply wither away. Shrugging out of his coat and leaving it at the door, he heads up the stairs and toward the child's bedroom, quietly unlocking it before stepping inside. The curtains were drawn low to block out the light and let him sleep undisturbed as much as to block out the chaos that was unraveling in the streets.
Mayfield had literally gone to Hell.
It almost seemed that Mrs. Johnson would keep her word and take every single one of them into that mysterious 'factory' of hers -- leave them mutilated or otherwise bastardized versions of themselves in mind, body, or spirit -- sometimes all three. He didn't understand... couldn't understand this; even if the worst days of his life when his heart had been consumed by a sick hatred for man, he had never gone to such lengths to make another people suffer. Even a monster hadn't had the stomach for this.
He closes the door, softly -- putting the bag aside and letting tired eyes adjust to the low light, before he's pulling the chair up beside the bed to sit in it. Fingers reach for the IV currently dripping to test its condition, before he rests his palm lightly over his twin's brow.
...He is beginning to think the life waiting for him on Mars is less cruel than this. Even... knowing how it would end.
This isn't living at all. His brother is a suffering ghost. A small and helpless child enduring something terrible for no reason at all...
What: All the sadfacing. Mama Abel babbying Cain.
Where: Nightroad residence.
When: Before Mrs. Johnson's phone call on the 1st.
Warnings: Hallucinations/adorable child in pain? Maybe clinical usage of sedatives etc. Nothing too bad here.
It had been several days since Cain had been returned to him -- dumped outside of the hospital like the others, left to endure pain and suffer in the recesses of his own mind. His perpetually smiling, cheerful and upbeat twin-turned-little brother had been reduced to a creature living in constant fear... constant fear, and constant agony. He had gone searching more than once in the recesses of the hospital and pharmacy's stores for drug suitable to ease his suffering; it killed Abel to see Cain this way, down to his bones. There was nothing he could do... nothing, to make this better. It was a game of survival. To keep his brother alive and as painless as possible, until they could discover a means by which to reverse this.
Abel is headed back into the house, a brown paper bag in hand filled with various sedatives and painkillers, clean syringes, and IV bags; Cain was sometimes too terrified to so much as perform the basic functions like eating and spent most of his days sleeping them away, so he had to be sure that his age-regressed twin didn't simply wither away. Shrugging out of his coat and leaving it at the door, he heads up the stairs and toward the child's bedroom, quietly unlocking it before stepping inside. The curtains were drawn low to block out the light and let him sleep undisturbed as much as to block out the chaos that was unraveling in the streets.
Mayfield had literally gone to Hell.
It almost seemed that Mrs. Johnson would keep her word and take every single one of them into that mysterious 'factory' of hers -- leave them mutilated or otherwise bastardized versions of themselves in mind, body, or spirit -- sometimes all three. He didn't understand... couldn't understand this; even if the worst days of his life when his heart had been consumed by a sick hatred for man, he had never gone to such lengths to make another people suffer. Even a monster hadn't had the stomach for this.
He closes the door, softly -- putting the bag aside and letting tired eyes adjust to the low light, before he's pulling the chair up beside the bed to sit in it. Fingers reach for the IV currently dripping to test its condition, before he rests his palm lightly over his twin's brow.
...He is beginning to think the life waiting for him on Mars is less cruel than this. Even... knowing how it would end.
This isn't living at all. His brother is a suffering ghost. A small and helpless child enduring something terrible for no reason at all...
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