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

[thewidewideworld]

He flinches minutely at the sting of if but manages to keep the hiss of pain from escaping.

"He was on campaign when I was bought for the palace and for more than the first year I was there. When he returned, he came to inspect the new slaves and found me ill." A little smile pulls at his lips. "When I was well again, I was told I had been selected to be one of his personal slaves, his little birds. I'd never been so happy."

[cook_the_rude]

"And did it turn out as well as you had hoped?" the doctor asks, still daubing at Sinric's injuries with that stinging solutions, discarding each bit of gauze after cleaning yet another cut or scratch.

[thewidewideworld]

"It did. The first time I was sent to him, I was afraid. I had heard stories of what men wanted from boys like me. I was afraid I was wrong about him. But he was my Emperor and I had been sent for."

"When I entered his rooms I was shaking like a leaf. He was so gentle. He picked me up and rocked me like a babe, soothing my fears and calming me down. He wanted to see my body but only to see that I had healed. After that he bade me dress and sit with him. We talked for many hours, until I started to nod with sleep. He put me in his own bed and held me through the night. I had never felt so safe, so protected."

[cook_the_rude]

The doctor picks up another ball of gauze and starts cleaning out a longish cut.

"But later?"

[thewidewideworld]

"He was always good to me, as he has been with all his birds. When he discovered I wanted to read, he would sit me on his knee to teach me, letting me learn from his own correspondence."

"It was not for some time that I grew bold enough to ask for the kisses the older boys spoke of. Only when I showed my desire did he teach me the ways of pleasure."

[cook_the_rude]

"Can you even feel that pleasure?" the doctor asks, his curiosity seeming entirely cool and medical.

[thewidewideworld]

"There are many pleasures I can feel. Parts of my body are very sensitive to touch even if the peak other men feel is not-" he breaks off there, still confused by the pleasures others have brought out in him of late.

"And there is pleasure in bring satisfaction, in giving pleasure to another when there is shared desire." Certainly not in being used as rough and recklessly as he has been.

[cook_the_rude]

"Have you ever reached completion?" the doctor asks. "In my time, with no living eunuchs left, there is dissent about that part."

Pause, as he changes to the next ball of gauze.

"The operatic castrati of 18th century Italy were quite popular, on the sly, for pleasing both men and women, while being arguably the most amazing singers in the history of classical western music. But we have no surviving records about what they felt, themselves."

[thewidewideworld]

Here his reasonably steady voice falters at this. "I have. Twice but only in the last week. It is still... a very new sensation to me." His cheeks colour softly as he ducks his head. "I had not thought it possible."

But he smiles. "I am very fond of singing. I am told my voice is very pleasing." There's a note of pride in his tone, even if muffled by the swelling in his throat.

[cook_the_rude]

"When you are better, would you sing for me?" the doctor asks. "I would be very grateful if I could test your vocal range."

[thewidewideworld]

"I would be very glad to, sir." He does love to sing and is quick to want to please on that front.

[cook_the_rude]

"I will gladly come back to that," the doctors says. "But for now, would you please turn around so I can assess the damage to your anus?"

[thewidewideworld]

He swallows and rises, turning to brace himself on the back of the couch, his legs spread.

A shiver of panic passes through him at being exposed like this again but he fights it back and forces himself to stay still.

[cook_the_rude]

The doctor wipes over the misused hole with a well-soaked ball of gauze, and tuts.

"This is badly torn and should have some stitches," he declares.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric swallows and nods, bracing himself as best he can against the pain he expects. Modern anesthetics are unknown to him.

[cook_the_rude]

"This will hurt a little," the doctor says. He swabs at a place right beside Sinric's anus, and after the cold sting, there is a minute feeling, as if of a very fine needle going in.

After that, nothing. The doctor busies himself with his instruments, and then, the entire area slowly starts tingling, and goes numb.

[thewidewideworld]

"What-" He flinches a little at the little sting. "Sir?"

[cook_the_rude]

"It's called local anaesthetic," the doctor says. "So I can put in those stitches without hurting you more. It's a very useful invention from about a century before my time."

[thewidewideworld]

He nods and hangs his head. The medicine of this is still beyond him but he feels less pain than before and therefore trusts in the doctor's word.

The exposed position still triggers fear and panic but he swallows them back, forcing himself to stay still. Concentrating of breathing slow, he sings softly to himself, if hoarsely, in Farsi.

[cook_the_rude]

The doctor starts touching the area around Sinric's anus with gauze swabs and instruments; all that Sinric will be able to feel is the fact of some touch, though, but no pain at all.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric shakes with the effort not to finch. Not because it hurts but because the touch triggers memories of the event that he's struggling to repress.

His song breaks with little sobs every now and then as he fights to keep himself steady.

[cook_the_rude]

"It must have been very painful and emotionally hurtful to have been treated in a way that would cause this kind of physical trauma," the doctor says, coolly, doing his work.

[thewidewideworld]

"They had their right under law." Sinric mutters between short breaths. "I am property of the Emperor and by extension, the co-emperor. It is his right to use me as he sees fit." He says it as if to assure himself but the words sound weak, even to his own ears.

[cook_the_rude]

"Which is why I am just treating your injuries instead of securing evidence," the doctor says. "But it doesn't make that sense of violation and helplessness any less acutely traumatic for you as a person. Which you are, whether you are property in the eyes of the law or not."

[thewidewideworld]

"I will heal." He swallows, still trying to reassure himself. "It was an act of petty vengeance over a slight. I doubt it will happen again."

He's trying very hard not to think about how weak he felt as they held him down.