DATE & TIME: january 5 1845, 9:30pm LOCATION: the hotel that nyima works at, paris STATUS: closed for @arcancs TRIGGERS: blood, injury
a lovely surprise, and an excellent way to end the night, she thinks, seeing the familiar face with her own expression brightening despite the late hour after a full day shift. easy to be enthused with the presence of one she is so fond of, until —
“iskender! oh my god — oh my god — what happened? are you okay? jesus, sit down, here — “ she immediately rushes over, seeing the red tainting clothes, the grimace on his face. there is no hesitation in looping the man’s arms over her shoulders, careful to maneouver him to some backroom where they will not be seen, where there will be no questions but hers — unanswered, most likely.
she tries not to think of it, focuses on the bleeding man before her instead. hands are quick, gentle, pressing damp cloths to the wounds and unbuttoning shirts to clean the stained skin. “and what, pray tell, has gotten you in a state like this, hm? disappearing for weeks and all of a sudden, you just show up like this! dear god, iskender... hold on, there’s wine somewhere. you’re going to kill me with this if you die, i swear.”
