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esp_dragonv2Fandom: Noblesse
Summary: Muzaka returned to find the lab in shambles. Frankenstein was fine though, and they could leave again soon after. ...Frankenstein...?
Contains: Mild blood and gore
Notes: Muzaka didn't leave 'verse. Past Gaining Strength, but set before the modern era.
Rating: PG
Genre: General
Word count: 1,734
Total word count: 26,871
Status: Work in progress
Muzaka slowed as he neared his and Frankenstein's current lab. Blood. Blood was in the air, but he couldn't hear any fighting or sense any auras. Still, he hurried over, in case the fighting had moved elsewhere.
The house they'd been using was less of a house now, and more a shelter since the front wall had been blown in. The rest of the walls seemed sturdy enough, and it gave Muzaka a clear view into the house. Union agents scattered around the area, as well as a few of their body parts, matching up to the slash marks decorating the walls.
Frankenstein was in the centre of the destruction, collapsed, but Muzaka could hear him breathing, even if it was more laboured than usual. Because of the gaping wound to his side, no doubt.
Muzaka moved Frankenstein to the bed after clearing it of some debris. While Frankenstein healed up, Muzaka dealt with the agents - Frankenstein preferred cleaning up as soon as possible, and the bodies would attract animals.
It didn't take long for Muzaka to finish with the agents, and he eyed the wall as he returned. Well, it wouldn't matter much - they'd be on the move once Frankenstein...
Muzaka paused at the edge of the house. Frankenstein was still on the bed. Still unconscious. That was... Worry licked at bottom of Muzaka's stomach as he walked over. Frankenstein was normally up by now. In their spars and the other fights they'd been in, Frankenstein had been hurt worse and was still walking around by now.
...Was his breathing weaker than before...? "Oi, Frankenstein?" Muzaka said, sitting down next to him, seeing the sheen on sweat across Frankenstein's brow.
No response.
The wound across Frankenstein's gut was still bleeding.
It wasn't free flowing, but it hadn't closed up like it should have either.
Silver? Frankenstein's skin wasn't as red to say he'd been attacked with silver, but then... Did Muzaka know how Frankenstein would react to it now? Or other things?
And did that matter what it was Frankenstein had been attacked with?
Right now, he was just watching Frankenstein slowly bleeding out, and he'd seen how Frankenstein treated these injuries on other humans.
How serious it was.
What it meant if he didn't treat it fast enough.
Shit.
Muzaka didn't have the kind of medical knowledge Frankenstein did (and no-one else did either), but he would just have to remember and hope he knew enough from what he'd seen Frankenstein do.
* * *
Muzaka sat back, exhaling. Stitches done. Bandages done.
Frankenstein was still bleeding, but... The bandages were reddening slower than what they would have before Muzaka had stitched him up.
It seemed to be better.
Even if Frankenstein's skin hadn't knitted together like Muzaka had expected it to when he held the cut sides close.
Frankenstein's breathing wasn't softening anymore.
That was the good thing. Right?
Right.
What else did he need to do?
Frankenstein had lost a lot of blood, which was fluid, so he needed to make sure Frankenstein drank again to replace what he'd lost.
Muzaka stared at Frankenstein's face for a second, but it didn't look like he had any intention of waking up any time soon to point out everything Muzaka had forgotten.
So Muzaka would just keep going until Frankenstein woke up.
Because he would.
Muzaka knew he would.
Even though it had already been far past the point that any other werewolf, even a non-warrior, would have woken up by now. And he was sure he'd heard Frankenstein mention that before, the longer someone stayed unconscious, the worse the outcome was, if the person would ever recover.
Muzaka exhaled, getting up to fetch some water.
Frankenstein would be fine.
He was strong.
His healing would take care of it.
(Like it had already? What if it wasn't enough...?)
* * *
Frankenstein was still the same when Muzaka returned.
Unmoving.
He was still... He was still healing.
He was still breathing, and when Muzaka pressed his fingertips to the side of Frankenstein's throat, he felt Frankenstein's pulse there.
Okay.
Frankenstein always seemed so sure of himself, knew exactly what to do when he was treating someone...
Muzaka was just lost, trying to do what he thought was right from what he remembered Frankenstein doing.
And that was all he could do right now, until Frankenstein woke up.
Muzaka poured a little water into Frankenstein's mouth, massaging his throat until he swallowed.
Good.
Muzaka kept doing it until Frankenstein had drank about a cup. That should be enough for now.
Maybe.
Was Frankenstein cooler than he normally was? Muzaka pressed his palm to Frankenstein's forehead. It felt like it.
Was that a bad sign? Could he do something about it?
The fastest way to warm Frankenstein up... Yeah.
Muzaka set the cup down and slid into bed with Frankenstein, pressing up against him, trying to avoid the injury as he tried to cover as much of Frankenstein as possible. He pulled over the blanket Frankenstein used sometimes, tucking him in as much as he could.
Muzaka made sure to keep his fingers to Frankenstein's neck so he would always know if Frankenstein's heart slowed, and settled down to wait.
* * *
Frankenstein sucked in a breath, gritting his teeth against the wave of pain. What had-?
He was under a blanket, which meant he clearly wasn't in the Union. And Muzaka's presence by his side was instantly identifiable.
"Hey?" Muzaka murmured, his fingers brushing Frankenstein's throat.
"Muz-" Frankenstein grimaced at his dry throat, his scratchy voice.
He was distracted from his thoughts when Muzaka pulled him into a tight hug, burying his head into Frankenstein's shoulder.
Frankenstein blinked, reaching over to return it. He grimaced again at the pain originating from his lower abdomen, and hm, when was the last time he'd woken up injured?
A fight. Yes. The Union had found him, if his pain and the lack of a wall was anything to go by. Which meant- "We need to go," Frankenstein said, not moving to get up just yet. ...Was Muzaka trembling? Had they gotten him as well?
"You need ta rest," Muzaka insisted, and Frankenstein frowned. That was the first time Frankenstein had heard him say that when they weren't talking about his experiments.
Frankenstein lifted a hand (and it was harder than it normally would have been, like he was pressed on all sides with Muzaka's aura), cupping Muzaka's cheek so he could see him better.
Muzaka...looked tired. His eyes weren't as alert as they usually were, and dark shadows were under his eyes. When was the last time he had slept?
"You - I-" Muzaka exhaled, leaning a little into Frankenstein's touch.
Frankenstein had never seen Muzaka struggle for word before either, though that could have been from tiredness.
"I think... I think you nearly...died," Muzaka said, his voice hushed, as if saying the words might make it true.
Hm. Frankenstein peeked under the blanket to see the line of dark brown against the bandages. Not an immediate danger compared to if he'd been injured in the chest, but still enough that there very well could have been complications if he'd been left untreated.
He tugged a little at the bandages, able to lift them enough to see the stitches tying his wound together.
It was a number of hours since the attack, and he still had a wound, not unbroken skin.
"You did this...?" Frankenstein murmured, running a finger over one, seeing how it moved. How it held. If Muzaka had taken him to a doctor for treatment, they would have stayed there, not returned to their destroyed lab.
"Heh, yeah. They're not as neat as yours."
"Hush, you," Frankenstein said, turning to kiss Muzaka's cheek. "I have far more experience of doing it than you, especially since you've never been trained in it." Werewolf warriors would never have felt the need, so Muzaka must have learned just from watching him during their travels.
Muzaka was still trembling slightly, his breathing uneven. He had been that worried?
Hm. Neither of them were going to be able to travel far like this.
"Sleep, Muzaka," he murmured, kissing his cheek again.
"But what if ya need anythin'? Like water?" His eyes drifted towards the cup on the table next to Frankenstein.
"There's more than enough here," Frankenstein assured him. "If there's anything else, I'll wake you up. I'm strong enough now that I won't immediately collapse." And if he did, he was sure the thud would awaken Muzaka.
"But..." Even as Muzaka said that, his eyes drooped.
"I'm here," Frankenstein said, holding Muzaka's hand and squeezing. "I won't be going anywhere."
Muzaka squeezed back and Frankenstein guided his head towards his shoulder. "'Kay..."
Muzaka was asleep a few heartbeats later, and Frankenstein exhaled, just listening to Muzaka breathe.
* * *
Frankenstein sucked in a breath as he removed the bandages. The wound had finally sealed over, but the affected area was still tender and bruised. Unfortunately, none of the agents had kindly left any trace of what they had used so he could study it.
"Hey, Frankenstein?" Muzaka murmured, resting his chin on Frankenstein's shoulder, wrapping an arm around Frankenstein's waist.
"Mm?" Muzaka had rested for a few hours, and that was enough for now. They had to move, if the Union knew where they were.
"Could you...teach me what to do? If that happens again?"
Frankenstein turned his words over in his head. "You want to learn medicine?"
Muzaka nodded. "I don't wanna... I didn't know what to do."
Frankenstein threaded his fingers through Muzaka's hand at his waist. "You know more than you realise. Not everyone would have known to use stitches or how to tie them."
"Yeah, but that's only 'cause I've seen ya do that before."
He chuckled softly as Muzaka kissed his neck. "And that's how you learn: through observation." Muzaka also learned by trying things out himself, and a plan was already forming how he would teach Muzaka certain things, on what he could throw together so Muzaka could practice while they searched for the next place for them to settle. "But yes, I can do that."
Muzaka turned his hand so that he could hold Frankenstein's, squeezing for a second. "Thanks."
"Come," Frankenstein said, "we should get moving. We can talk more as we go."
Muzaka nodded, and together, they left.
Inspired by this conversation.
Summary: Muzaka returned to find the lab in shambles. Frankenstein was fine though, and they could leave again soon after. ...Frankenstein...?
Contains: Mild blood and gore
Notes: Muzaka didn't leave 'verse. Past Gaining Strength, but set before the modern era.
Rating: PG
Genre: General
Word count: 1,734
Total word count: 26,871
Status: Work in progress
Muzaka slowed as he neared his and Frankenstein's current lab. Blood. Blood was in the air, but he couldn't hear any fighting or sense any auras. Still, he hurried over, in case the fighting had moved elsewhere.
The house they'd been using was less of a house now, and more a shelter since the front wall had been blown in. The rest of the walls seemed sturdy enough, and it gave Muzaka a clear view into the house. Union agents scattered around the area, as well as a few of their body parts, matching up to the slash marks decorating the walls.
Frankenstein was in the centre of the destruction, collapsed, but Muzaka could hear him breathing, even if it was more laboured than usual. Because of the gaping wound to his side, no doubt.
Muzaka moved Frankenstein to the bed after clearing it of some debris. While Frankenstein healed up, Muzaka dealt with the agents - Frankenstein preferred cleaning up as soon as possible, and the bodies would attract animals.
It didn't take long for Muzaka to finish with the agents, and he eyed the wall as he returned. Well, it wouldn't matter much - they'd be on the move once Frankenstein...
Muzaka paused at the edge of the house. Frankenstein was still on the bed. Still unconscious. That was... Worry licked at bottom of Muzaka's stomach as he walked over. Frankenstein was normally up by now. In their spars and the other fights they'd been in, Frankenstein had been hurt worse and was still walking around by now.
...Was his breathing weaker than before...? "Oi, Frankenstein?" Muzaka said, sitting down next to him, seeing the sheen on sweat across Frankenstein's brow.
No response.
The wound across Frankenstein's gut was still bleeding.
It wasn't free flowing, but it hadn't closed up like it should have either.
Silver? Frankenstein's skin wasn't as red to say he'd been attacked with silver, but then... Did Muzaka know how Frankenstein would react to it now? Or other things?
And did that matter what it was Frankenstein had been attacked with?
Right now, he was just watching Frankenstein slowly bleeding out, and he'd seen how Frankenstein treated these injuries on other humans.
How serious it was.
What it meant if he didn't treat it fast enough.
Shit.
Muzaka didn't have the kind of medical knowledge Frankenstein did (and no-one else did either), but he would just have to remember and hope he knew enough from what he'd seen Frankenstein do.
Muzaka sat back, exhaling. Stitches done. Bandages done.
Frankenstein was still bleeding, but... The bandages were reddening slower than what they would have before Muzaka had stitched him up.
It seemed to be better.
Even if Frankenstein's skin hadn't knitted together like Muzaka had expected it to when he held the cut sides close.
Frankenstein's breathing wasn't softening anymore.
That was the good thing. Right?
Right.
What else did he need to do?
Frankenstein had lost a lot of blood, which was fluid, so he needed to make sure Frankenstein drank again to replace what he'd lost.
Muzaka stared at Frankenstein's face for a second, but it didn't look like he had any intention of waking up any time soon to point out everything Muzaka had forgotten.
So Muzaka would just keep going until Frankenstein woke up.
Because he would.
Muzaka knew he would.
Even though it had already been far past the point that any other werewolf, even a non-warrior, would have woken up by now. And he was sure he'd heard Frankenstein mention that before, the longer someone stayed unconscious, the worse the outcome was, if the person would ever recover.
Muzaka exhaled, getting up to fetch some water.
Frankenstein would be fine.
He was strong.
His healing would take care of it.
(Like it had already? What if it wasn't enough...?)
Frankenstein was still the same when Muzaka returned.
Unmoving.
He was still... He was still healing.
He was still breathing, and when Muzaka pressed his fingertips to the side of Frankenstein's throat, he felt Frankenstein's pulse there.
Okay.
Frankenstein always seemed so sure of himself, knew exactly what to do when he was treating someone...
Muzaka was just lost, trying to do what he thought was right from what he remembered Frankenstein doing.
And that was all he could do right now, until Frankenstein woke up.
Muzaka poured a little water into Frankenstein's mouth, massaging his throat until he swallowed.
Good.
Muzaka kept doing it until Frankenstein had drank about a cup. That should be enough for now.
Maybe.
Was Frankenstein cooler than he normally was? Muzaka pressed his palm to Frankenstein's forehead. It felt like it.
Was that a bad sign? Could he do something about it?
The fastest way to warm Frankenstein up... Yeah.
Muzaka set the cup down and slid into bed with Frankenstein, pressing up against him, trying to avoid the injury as he tried to cover as much of Frankenstein as possible. He pulled over the blanket Frankenstein used sometimes, tucking him in as much as he could.
Muzaka made sure to keep his fingers to Frankenstein's neck so he would always know if Frankenstein's heart slowed, and settled down to wait.
Frankenstein sucked in a breath, gritting his teeth against the wave of pain. What had-?
He was under a blanket, which meant he clearly wasn't in the Union. And Muzaka's presence by his side was instantly identifiable.
"Hey?" Muzaka murmured, his fingers brushing Frankenstein's throat.
"Muz-" Frankenstein grimaced at his dry throat, his scratchy voice.
He was distracted from his thoughts when Muzaka pulled him into a tight hug, burying his head into Frankenstein's shoulder.
Frankenstein blinked, reaching over to return it. He grimaced again at the pain originating from his lower abdomen, and hm, when was the last time he'd woken up injured?
A fight. Yes. The Union had found him, if his pain and the lack of a wall was anything to go by. Which meant- "We need to go," Frankenstein said, not moving to get up just yet. ...Was Muzaka trembling? Had they gotten him as well?
"You need ta rest," Muzaka insisted, and Frankenstein frowned. That was the first time Frankenstein had heard him say that when they weren't talking about his experiments.
Frankenstein lifted a hand (and it was harder than it normally would have been, like he was pressed on all sides with Muzaka's aura), cupping Muzaka's cheek so he could see him better.
Muzaka...looked tired. His eyes weren't as alert as they usually were, and dark shadows were under his eyes. When was the last time he had slept?
"You - I-" Muzaka exhaled, leaning a little into Frankenstein's touch.
Frankenstein had never seen Muzaka struggle for word before either, though that could have been from tiredness.
"I think... I think you nearly...died," Muzaka said, his voice hushed, as if saying the words might make it true.
Hm. Frankenstein peeked under the blanket to see the line of dark brown against the bandages. Not an immediate danger compared to if he'd been injured in the chest, but still enough that there very well could have been complications if he'd been left untreated.
He tugged a little at the bandages, able to lift them enough to see the stitches tying his wound together.
It was a number of hours since the attack, and he still had a wound, not unbroken skin.
"You did this...?" Frankenstein murmured, running a finger over one, seeing how it moved. How it held. If Muzaka had taken him to a doctor for treatment, they would have stayed there, not returned to their destroyed lab.
"Heh, yeah. They're not as neat as yours."
"Hush, you," Frankenstein said, turning to kiss Muzaka's cheek. "I have far more experience of doing it than you, especially since you've never been trained in it." Werewolf warriors would never have felt the need, so Muzaka must have learned just from watching him during their travels.
Muzaka was still trembling slightly, his breathing uneven. He had been that worried?
Hm. Neither of them were going to be able to travel far like this.
"Sleep, Muzaka," he murmured, kissing his cheek again.
"But what if ya need anythin'? Like water?" His eyes drifted towards the cup on the table next to Frankenstein.
"There's more than enough here," Frankenstein assured him. "If there's anything else, I'll wake you up. I'm strong enough now that I won't immediately collapse." And if he did, he was sure the thud would awaken Muzaka.
"But..." Even as Muzaka said that, his eyes drooped.
"I'm here," Frankenstein said, holding Muzaka's hand and squeezing. "I won't be going anywhere."
Muzaka squeezed back and Frankenstein guided his head towards his shoulder. "'Kay..."
Muzaka was asleep a few heartbeats later, and Frankenstein exhaled, just listening to Muzaka breathe.
Frankenstein sucked in a breath as he removed the bandages. The wound had finally sealed over, but the affected area was still tender and bruised. Unfortunately, none of the agents had kindly left any trace of what they had used so he could study it.
"Hey, Frankenstein?" Muzaka murmured, resting his chin on Frankenstein's shoulder, wrapping an arm around Frankenstein's waist.
"Mm?" Muzaka had rested for a few hours, and that was enough for now. They had to move, if the Union knew where they were.
"Could you...teach me what to do? If that happens again?"
Frankenstein turned his words over in his head. "You want to learn medicine?"
Muzaka nodded. "I don't wanna... I didn't know what to do."
Frankenstein threaded his fingers through Muzaka's hand at his waist. "You know more than you realise. Not everyone would have known to use stitches or how to tie them."
"Yeah, but that's only 'cause I've seen ya do that before."
He chuckled softly as Muzaka kissed his neck. "And that's how you learn: through observation." Muzaka also learned by trying things out himself, and a plan was already forming how he would teach Muzaka certain things, on what he could throw together so Muzaka could practice while they searched for the next place for them to settle. "But yes, I can do that."
Muzaka turned his hand so that he could hold Frankenstein's, squeezing for a second. "Thanks."
"Come," Frankenstein said, "we should get moving. We can talk more as we go."
Muzaka nodded, and together, they left.
Inspired by this conversation.