closed.

[tender]

WHO: Derrica + Ellie
WHAT: Patch job.
WHEN: August-ish.
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: Discussion of violence, will update as needed.

The Gallows is not a small place, but it manages to be insular. Things don't go unnoticed for long.

And so that is why they're here now, in Derrica's room, with her satchel open across the bed. She'd corralled Ellie, pressed her into sitting upon while Derrica drew a chair up in front of her. The shutters have been pushed open to let in the sea air, cooling the space.

Derrica hasn't asked what happened, not in so many words. There's a way to draw that out of Ellie, but she doesn't know how to say it. Not yet. So she's examining her with very gentle hands, careful as she takes in every bruise and scrape.

"I can ease most of this," she tells Ellie. "If you like."

Because that's important too: what Ellie wants, what she'd like Derrica to do. It's always important that someone makes the choice to ask for her magic, rather than the bandages and ointments in her satchel.

Comments

1/2

[notathreat]

"Yeah. I mean, I did worse."

Ellie shrugs, though the answer's obvious enough, and the corner of her mouth twists. Derrica's genuine care and concern feels like an itching in her blood, and even though she's older now, even though she's shaken free of some of her bad habits, today's been fucked up enough to get to her.

"Don't-"

It comes out more sharply than she intended, and Ellie takes a deep breath, lets it out. She doesn't want to be an asshole to Derrica, she doesn't deserve it. She likes her. Maybe that's the real problem here, stacked up with all the hundreds of other very fucking real problems. She likes this place. She likes the people here. She almost likes who she is, here.

For a second Ellie almost cracks. Almost. But she pulls back on it, shuts it down.