OOM: Treating Sinric

[cook_the_rude]

When Sinric follows Dr. Lecter to his office upstairs, he will find it's near the library, in an area of the non-linear rooms section that feels more business-like because of that location and the presence of the indoor chapel that had been used before Javert's church was finished.

It is small but functional, with clean-lined modernist furniture made of pale wood contrasting with the 18th and 19th century prints of Istanbul cityscapes and 'Turkish' harem scenes that were quite the fashion at the rococo period in ornate frames that adorn the walls. There are two comfortable chairs with end-tables, a small book-case, and a pale leather couch. There is a small drawing table with two straight-backed chairs that, at this moment, holds nothing but a flower arrangement. There are two doors, one slightly ajar to reveal a tiny pantry kitchen, the other firmly closed, with a covered lock that clearly labels it a bathroom door, lockable from the inside.

There are two floor-length windows obscured by pale, gauzy blinds, at the bottom of which a balcony is visible, and beyond its grate, the lake area, with a view to the stables, the garden, and the forge.

Dr. Lecter puts down his bag of medical supplies and gestures towards the couch.

Comments

[cook_the_rude]

Therre is just a little pin-prick at each breast, and then the area around the nipples slowly goes numb while the doctor prepares the gel, and more gauze.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric holds himself still, face still turned away. The slightest touch, however gentle and numbed triggers memories he stuggles to keep from overwhelming him. His fingers as they rest on his thighs move rhythmically, trying to recall the chords of the song he was learning last as a way to steady himself.

[cook_the_rude]

The doctor works meticulously, daubing each nipple with the sharp-smelling liquid, then covering it with the gel, and finally putting on a larger piece of gauze to cover it, then fixing it to Sinric's breat with a sheet of adhesive fabric.

"This way," he explains, "the gel has a chance to work properly, and you won't accidentally rub your sore nipples on your clothes."

[thewidewideworld]

He nods and swallows, still by no means comfortable with the touch but trusting in the doctor's kindness.

[cook_the_rude]

"And now, I'll take a look at your face, and then we are done," the doctor says.

[thewidewideworld]

He nods and looks up, shaking his hair back from his face. His lips are cracked and split, his cheeks and eyes bruised from the force of blows. His throat shows signs of violence throttling and choking grips.

He looks up at the doctor with deep brown eyes on the verge of spilling over into tears.

[cook_the_rude]

The doctor puts two fingers on Sinric's jaw to move his head this way and that, meticulously cleaning each abrasion with his stinging solution.

There is quite a pile of discarded gauze by now.

[thewidewideworld]

The touch is disconcerting. As is the doctor's dispassionate gaze but he stays still under it.

Sinric glances at the pile, disturbed by the evidence of his physical ruin.

[cook_the_rude]

"I will apply the gel to your throat as well," the doctor says, "and then wrap it with a bandage."

He tips up Sinric's chin, and begins to do so.

[thewidewideworld]

The tilt triggers another harshly painful bit of sense memory but he fights it down and offers up his bruised throat.

[cook_the_rude]

The doctor starts spreading the cooling gel over the vicious bruises left by the throttling hands, generously and slowly.

[thewidewideworld]

He hisses softly, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes but he manages to stay still. "How long do I need to keep the bandages on, sir?"

[cook_the_rude]

The doctor fixes the bandage with a white adhesive tape, then nods. "Just until tomorrow or the day after, to give the gel a chance to work," he says. "I'm going to give you a tube of it so you can put it on your bruises afterwards. As my door is working somewhat randomly at the moment, I can't promise I'd be there to do it."

He picks up a paper tissue and wipes away Sinric's tears, gently, before starting to apply a rich white salve wo all the lacerations in his face.

"And of this, if you like."

[thewidewideworld]

He nods, confused by the dispassionate in the seemingly kind gesture of drying his tears.

"How can I repay this kindness, sir?"

[cook_the_rude]

"When your throat is fully healed, and you're quite yourself again, I would like to make music with you," the doctor says. "Learn Byzantine songs from you, and test your vocal range with more modern methods."

[thewidewideworld]

He nods, reaching for his clothes but waiting for the doctor's permission before dressing.

"I will be very glad to sing for you, sir." He dips as deep a bow as his freshly stitched bow will allow.

[cook_the_rude]

"We are done here," the doctor says, looking him up and down for a last time. "You can dress again."

[thewidewideworld]

He does so with care but moving a little freer now that the worst of the pain is numbed by the needles.

He bows again. "Thank you, sir."

[cook_the_rude]

"Don't thank me," the doctor says. "I'm a doctor; I couldn't not do this. And I am going to learn about musical history from you, first-hand, which will be a great treat."

[thewidewideworld]

"Then I look forward to singing for you, sir."

He gathers his cloak and heads for the door before bowing again.

[cook_the_rude]

"I am looking forward to hearing you," the doctor says, standing up and inclining his head, "and hope you recover well, Oriens."

[[OOC: Wrap this one as well?]]

[thewidewideworld]

{ooc: perfect. Thank you, that was wonderfully intense.}

[cook_the_rude]

[[OOC: Hannibal Lecter is an unmitigated fucker, as Saph and I tend to state very often. I suppose you caught most of the things that he was doing here? And yes, it was quite intense. I'll post this with the appropriate warnings.]]