Disenchantment and a Wooden Spoon [Private]

Fang stood for a long time in the middle of the bathroom, battling the demons of shell shock away the best he could, which was freezing in place and breathing as steadily as possible. His heart thudded a mile a minute for minutes on end until finally his brain caught up with his exit from the tub fully. It was a good thing she'd dried him off a bit, otherwise he'd still be dripping, unmoving other for subdued shudders.

His arms were holding the clothes she'd given him, but it took him several long moments to realize what they were. Delirious from fever, it seemed like an insurmountable task, yet he couldn't and wouldn't call for Nai's help. Why? He wasn't sure, but it'd occur to him much later just how awkward her being in there with him while he was in nothing but his skin was. At last his limbs started to move, and with much effort he tugged on his boxers and PJ pants. Sufficiently worn out, weak arms attempted to get his shirt on as well, but that was an ultimate failure. Eventually he wandered out of the bathroom with the garment over his head albeit crooked, but unable to get his arms into it. "Help..." Fang softly said, though it seemed he was already on his way across the room. It was a miracle the sick boy even made it to the couch on those wobbly legs of his, but he did only to flop ungracefully down onto the cushion.

Oh, he felt absolutely awful. His face was flushed brightly with heat, yet he still felt so cold. Laying down sounded like a good idea, but perhaps he didn't even have the energy for that. Again a couple soft coughs of ash shook him, followed by a soft groan. Some tea...she'd mentioned tea, right? His eyes slowly lifted to try and locate her form. Whatever he'd meant to say, though, didn't come out quite right. "Nai.." he muttered, reaching a hand out vaguely for her. "C'mere...please...?"

He tugged at her offered hand weakly, urging her to sit beside him. Once she complied, in an act of seeking comfort though he didn't deserve it, he gently fell over and laid his head in her lap. It seemed even sitting took too much energy, and he couldn't muster enough willpower to get up and go to bed. If he couldn't get his shirt on, it seemed the couch was about as far as the boy was gonna get. Fang sniffled every so often, taking what little comfort this offered.

Fang hadn't admitted very many things to Nai. Really only that he was from Hisakawa and very old, and a phoenix of course. He never asked for anything or volunteered any information about himself. To be honest, despite his brokenness and bad decisions lately, he was a very laid back guy that went with the flow. If Nai needed help, he helped, but never did he ask for anything for himself. However, now under delirious conditions, the polite filtering his brain did was turned off by fever and general illness. Against all odds, Fang was going to ask for something other than help with his shirt, which was still around his neck and might as well be removed. "Can you...do that thing?" he asked vaguely, trying to word it. "where you...touch my hair. I like that.." the red head said truthfully, wrapping his arms around himself. If she had questions she needed answers to about him, now would be the best time to ask. It seemed he was about willing to admit anything at this point.

As she did as he requested, he sighed in relative contentment given the circumstances. His lids slid closed over his eyes, but he didn't sleep. Normally someone as sick as he was becoming would go right to sleep, but his dreams weren't a place he wanted to go right now. That'd be the worst place. If he'd already been having flashbacks while awake, turning his consciousness off would mean he couldn't fight them off. The feeling of her fingers through his hair was delightful, one of the small pleasures his roommate did that he'd learned to enjoy. Now that he was up and about and speaking she did it less, but that was understandable. It was a gesture probably reserved for children and those that had earned familiarity with the albino, but it was okay to ask just this once, right?

Fang laid there, silently suffering aside from coughs and sniffles until she spoke this time. A small frown appeared on his mouth, but he answered promptly. "I was ashamed. I didn't think what I did all the way out...didn't consider where I was doing it and who it would affect in the aftermath. I didn't mean to hurt you, I just wanted out so badly it clouded my judgement. And when death didn't come and I knew I had to face you, I couldn't. My heart is too weak and I'm a coward," the phoenix answered truthfully, a few red strands curtaining his eyes. "I couldn't endure your anger, nor did I want to stay and hurt you more. My company is a curse on you," he continued, ancient accent perhaps even thicker than usual in his exhausted state. His phrasing was older as well, as if he was accidentally slipping into his old ways without thinking much on modernizing it for her. "I'm also sorry I ran...and that you had to chase me. I'm just sorry for everything..."

His brows puckered. She wished he'd gone to her first before he staked himself. It was a novel thought. Maybe if it was simply being suicidal from depression he might have, but it was more complicated than that. There was more to it. She simply couldn't know of his vampirism. His forceful partial change in species was nearly the only reason he'd tried it at all. He knew it wouldn't work on a pure phoenix, but a half breed susceptible to death should wood be rammed through the heart? It had been worth a try. But none of that could be explained to her, and simply warning her before hand that he felt like and planned to try and die would not have ended well. There was no clean answer to this, but she wouldn't know that, now would she?

More soft coughs came from her lap as the ashes deep within forced their way out, the remains if the smoldering in his core. Molting was already rough, catching a bad cold on top of it was salt in the wounds. Once they subsided, he fell silent in contentment for a few moments before speaking again. "It makes me happy to hear that you enjoy my presence. I feel so...out of place...if this can become my place, maybe things wouldn't be so bad..." he muttered, not up to any smiling, but clearly the thought put him at ease like her fingers through his hair did.

However, the contentment didn't last long. As soon as he uttered the words, though, he instantly knew better. Even belonging wouldn't help. The storm clouds in his expression rose again, darkening the features with inner conflict. "There's just so much...so much shame. To allow myself to be broken..to be unable to break free despite my strength and training..." he trailed off, skirting the issues on his mind. She knew nothing of the horrors he'd endured, and up until now he hardly mentioned them if ever. Aside from his very violent reaction to the history book and his aversion to Arka subjects, the quiet, simple Fang she knew was just what was left of him once everything was stripped away. "You make me want to forget. I wish I could forget what happened, so I could be the companion you deserve. I don't feel like a blessing. Everything...everything hurts," Fang spoke so freely, fever delirium deactivating his filter and emotional mask. "I don't know how to get passed it all, Kurenai."

He was delirious, and that was the only reason he answered her. Without his guardian filter, apparently his heart would just gush the information she sought, as if he'd been waiting to let all of it out. It came like a flood, fitting since it was accompanied by fresh tears from his eyes at some point during the explanation.

He told her about Zhi Ruo, the girl he'd loved so much so long ago. She was a warrior spirit that almost rivaled Kiran. She'd been fearless and vibrant and wicked...a beauty and delight to know. Kurenai looked so much like her except for eye color, but the two couldn't be more different other than that. For all of Nai's gentleness and nurturing, Zhi was sandpaper or a touchy triggered gun in comparison. He'd wanted to marry her, but the war happened before he got the chance. Worst yet, the war slowly tainted them all with the horrors they both witnessed and wrought. Perhaps they were all tattered shells by the time it was winding down. To see the end coming was a relief. If they could just reach the end of the combat, they could pick up their pieces and move on... but her life was ripped from her. His last vision of her was her pale skin and hair splattered with her own life blood, watching in anguish as her breathing grew slower, shallower, until it didn't come at all. How could he leave his pure snow bird in such a condition, looking like a sacrificial lamb against unworthy carcasses? It was here he was separated from his team, his wits gone and mourning his lover's fate.

As if that hadn't been traumatic enough, his tale of woe was only just starting. Voice breaking here and there, or interrupted altogether with a fit of coughing, he told her about the aftermath. It'd been the last battle, but that didn't mean anything to him. The enemy took him, dragged him kicking and screaming away from his Zhi. It seemed it wasn't enough to kill and pile the bodies high. No, there were fates worse than that, where the limits of what a person could do to another was pushed to another level. Fang had been taken to a headquarters across enemy lines and held there, bound and tortured nearly constantly. The captain was a cruel man that sought the secret to immortality that phoenixes had. The idea was drawn up to build lighthouses and move prisoners there, so the torture and research could continue in secret. While the other species slowly tapered off into death, the immortal fire birds only died and were reborn relentlessly, even though most of them would have done anything to remain dead. While no real advancements were made in his reach for eternal life, the vampire in charge did seem to enjoy the process of having toys he couldn't break, not physically anyway. The man was charming and coy, but wicked and morally depraved. While he couldn't be sure, Fang felt the captain favored him in the worst way, spending way too much time with depraved acts that left the red-head with emotional scars so deep he thought he'd rip apart. The captain was also a fickle type, so the fun only lasted for so long before he grew stagnate and bored. With his disturbed mind knowing no bounds, in amusement he cooked up the idea that the flashes a dying and reborn phoenix made a lovely, inexpensive light atop the tower. An endless power source. But how could they still be trapped with no way to escape, but also die regularly to produce a reliable flash so the ships wouldn't crash into the shores? Drowning. Somehow large jars filled with water were designed, and the remaining fire bird prisoners were stuffed inside and sealed. With that, the captain was done with the whole thing, leaving a few guards to maintain the lighthouse and keep intruders away. Years passed. The guards changed. But his fate was endlessly the same.

While Fang left out that the vampire captain had turned him during those years of torture before his jar sentence began, compared to everything else the suffering boy had told her, that was probably the least of her worries. But to him, it was somehow nearly the worst part. To have your very genetics and blood overwritten against his will was somehow darker and more permanent than the other things that happened to him against his will. Phoenixes weren't the type to snub hybrid phoenixes. In fact, they were almost always embraced like there was no difference. But it was just something Fang couldn't accept, that he would always carry a part of his tormentor with him...and that made him feel like a monster. A monster that fed on the blood of others to function. Someone who had to force his will on others and hurt them like he did.

The boy's body squirmed a little in mental anguish, somehow manifesting as a physical pain inside. But honestly, it wasn't that bad. There were no horns, no moonfire. Fang kept his wits, which was honestly probably only because he was sick and his body was unable to manifest any fire or talent at all. So now, despite all his secretive tactics and his subdued general existence, it was just all out there for her. "Aloud, it just sounds so unbelievable...melodramatic...doesn't it? I just wanted a break...I wanted out of it all. It won't stop...it won't go away...I don't know what to do, Nai..."

After Fang laid nearly all of his struggles out for her, he somehow managed to calm a bit. It felt like somewhat of a relief for someone else to know. Perhaps that's why the nearly silent sobs ebbed away so that now only a remnant tear here and there. Nai's fingers through his hair was a comfort so strong she probably didn't even realize just how much it helped. Just that someone was there was enough for now.

When her words finally came, they were wise. Honestly there wasn't much she could have said that would have offended him. Fang wasn't the type to get easily offended by words that meant well, even if they were awkward or ill-thought out. True to her nurturing nature, she told him he'd have to conquer his fear and inner demons, and she was right. As long as he was trapped here in this life, he'd have to try and make the best of it. Would he always be strong enough? Would he always make the best decisions? The hybrid vampire wanted to think yes, but given his track record of decisions already, it didn't seem it'd be easy. Even now the darkness creeped in his mind, trying desperately to find ways to escape the pain and memories. A quick fix. Any immediate relief. As much as he didn't want to burden her, she seemed intent on helping, so she'd probably be doing just that. "You're right," he admitted weakly, nestling his cheek against her legs without thinking. The fever had grown rather intense, flushing his face brightly as if he was embarrassed, though clearly he was not. "I'll try and fight...thank you, Nai..." the ill boy muttered, the shivers returning with the raising fever now that his body had cooled from the hot bath. The lack of shirt wasn't helping, either. "You're so nice, Nai..." he continued to babble in his delusional state, speaking without reservation. "The man who wins your heart will be lucky..."

Reluctantly Fang pulled his shivering body up, hardly noticing as she helped put his shirt on properly. Her warm lap and fingers in his hair had been so nice that now that it was gone, he felt even worse. Frowning, a hand reached out to pull a nearby blanket off the back of the couch and he cocooned in it. Using the soft fibers to dry his face, he settled back against the seat back as if simply holding himself upright took every ounce of energy he had left. Fang's cheeks were nearly the same hue as his hair, which was fully curtaining one eye now. It was still plain he was suffering from his own memories, though it was dulling into some sort of numbness the worse his body felt. His molting had such wonderful timing to maximize his suffering.

"..D-Didn't you already make tea?" he asked weakly, though he really wasn't certain. In this state he could have imagined it completely. He'd sworn he'd heard the cry of the kettle when he first wandered out of the bathroom, and she'd said she was leaving him there to get dressed to start the tea, right? He just hadn't been interested in drinking it yet, recovering from his water trauma. She steeped some, but he didn't know where she put it after that. He'd interrupted her with his neediness. It didn't matter, did it? If she had, it'd was certainly cold. Having her remake it seemed cruel after all he'd done, but perhaps keeping herself busy was better than wallowing in his misery with him. "Tea and soup is fine," he nearly whispered, sliding off the couch and onto the floor. Oh yeah, the kotatsu had a heater. He nestled himself under there, turning on the weird heat making machine beneath the thick duvet covered table. Leaning forward, Fang rested his head on the table as if he couldn't possibly keep it elevated anymore. He felt so god awful that he just wanted to be cuddled until it was over. It was worse than the man flu!