sortinghat_logs | Feelings suck

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Feelings suck

WHO: Dolores Maryam, Bro Strider
TONE: Sad
RATING: PG-13 for language
WHEN: A few days after New Year, after leaving Murdoc's
WHERE: Dolores's house
WHAT: Bro splinched himself and needs help
STATUS: Ongoing

"Fuck," is all Bro manages to hiss out when he finally arrives at his destination, which is outside of Hogwarts. Instantly his hand is on his shoulder and covered in blood. Of all the fucking times to splinch himself, it had to be now. He can't even remember splinching himself before- he'd always been so damn focused every time he apparated. If there was one thing Bro was good at, it was focusing. But seeing Murdoc bleeding and begging for him to stay, it just... completely blew it.

And it fucking blew his shoulder to boot. There was a damn good chunk missing from it, and he was already feeling nauseous and lightheaded from the pain of it and the blood loss. He needed help fast; he wasn't proficient enough in healing magic to fix this. His first thought was the hospital wing, of Dolores- but then he remembered it's the holidays. She won't be there.

Which means he has to chance another apparition. Fuck.

Gritting his teeth, and focusing as hard as he possibly can on his destination, he turns on the spot and disapparates again. This time, he manages to not splinch himself, and thankfully he arrives near her doorstep. He moves towards it, feeling his knees shaking and threatening to give out. They do, when he reaches the door He falls hard on them with a grunt, dropping his bag next to him. God, this hurts. So fucking much. He can't remember a time he's been so wounded before.

Physically and emotionally.

But he's trying not to focus on the latter. He's fucking drenched in blood by the time he finally reaches up and knocks on the door, accidentally leaving a bloody mark on it. It's kinda hard not to leave blood when he's still bleeding profusely. When she opens the door, she'll definitely be in for a sight. He's covered in blood, pale, and looks absolutely fucking miserable there on his knees. He's shaking and he feels sick to his stomach.

Overall, he's looked better.

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Dolores wasn't expecting another visitor - in fact, he was lucky to catch her there at all. Despite the cold weather she was puttering about in the back garden when her keen ears picked up the sound of the knock on the door, and she brushed her hands together, heading through the house.

It was half way down the hall that she stalled at the smell. Blood. She'd know it anywhere. That was blood, and a lot of it. When her steps resumed they were more hurried, and she fumbled with the latch before yanking the door open. The potion she took to sate the bloodlust that her vampirism inflicted her with did nothing for what the sight and smell of blood would do to her mind, and for a moment when she saw the young man on the doorstep all she could do was stare while her thoughts spun.

Then, she dropped to her knees in front of him and whispered his name, cupping his face and lifting it to have him look at her, brushing his hair from his forehead with gentle touches and trying to see through the blood soaking his clothes, to find where it was all coming from.

"Dirk.. sweetheart, what happened-- Can you stand? Come on, come inside, lean on me." She shifted to wrap her arm around him, trying to draw him up and help him into the house.

Despite how completely and utterly relieved he feels to see her, he tries to put on a brave face when she bends down and begins examining him like she does. "Relax," he breathes out, trying to force a smile despite everything. "No need to worry, m'fine, 'course I can stand..."

But it's a tremendous help when she pulls him up, though he tries to do most of the work himself. He has to lean on her more than he would like. "Honestly, it's just a scratch..." He allows her to lead him inside, trying his best to move at a speed that seems normal and doesn't make him appear weak. "I..." he starts after a moment, as the worry that's been on his mind since before getting here finally pushes itself to the forefront of his brain, "I know this is... uh... That it probably ain't easy..." he swallows, god he feels nauseous right now. "All things... y'know, c-considered, but... You're the only person I could think of...to come to. I'm sorry."

He means the blood. Considering her condition, he knows that it's difficult for her and he feels awful for putting her in such a position. He just honestly didn't have any idea who else to turn to.

"You are not fine, you are covered in blood and I know very well that it is yours." Each person has a slightly different scent and there is no way to fool her that this is animal blood or that it belongs to anyone but Dirk. Even if she couldn't see the injury on him yet she could hear how his heart was racing, she could sense the pain in him without needing to see it.

When he started to apologise she just shook her head. Her love of her work and how she cared about him overrode any discomfort that she felt at being confronted with this. Gently, she hushed him and pushed the door shut with a wordless, wandless spell once they were both inside. There was no hesitation at all as she took him through to the living room and eased him down onto the couch. She could clean it later.

"I need to take off your shirt," she said then, softly and slowly, making sure that he understood what she had to do before she did it. As the fabric peeled away from bloodied skin her pupils contracted to near pinpricks. It was so, so difficult to do this, but her self control would not be beaten. Finally, she could see the injury, and the way it was formed made the cause very clear. Thankfully for the young man, she had just the thing to help.

A small bottle of Essence of Dittany, retrieved from the kitchen provided a near immediate relief as it was applied to the wounds, provoking an immediate healing. As if to speed it along Dolores gently pricked her thumb against her teeth, and murmured a quiet reassurance as she added a drop of her own blood to the process. She wouldn't dare use more, not with the amount of his own blood that he's lost. While the mix of healing agents did their work she crouched in front of him, taking his hands. She didn't even know where to begin with asking how this had happened.

"Dirk..."

Bro grunted in response to that, neither a confirmation nor denial that it is or isn't his blood. It was fairly obvious that it is indeed his blood, and answering such an obvious statement was too much effort when talking was already becoming difficult. Another grunt escaped when she shook her head and hushed him. He wanted to argue at this, but a part of him realized it would be pointless; she could be a stubborn woman. He was better off just not even bothering at all and saving his remaining strength to try and get better.

"Go ahead, ain't got nothing to hide..." he murmured with a small nod. He turned his head away and grit his teeth hard when she began peeling it away. A hiss escaped from his lips, followed by a deep groan. Nothing had hurt this bad in a long time- hell, he couldn't remember the last time he was seriously injured, but this definitely took the cake. "Mother of fuck..." He was trying to keep it in, but he felt miserable.

When she brought out the dittany and put it on his wound, he could've kissed her. Platonically, of course. Of all the women in his life, she was honestly one of the ones he'd never looked at like that. But that isn't really relevant. What is relevant is the fact that the dittany felt really amazing and made the pain so much more tolerable. "Ahhh..."

And then came his name, and he knew exactly what she wanted out of him. An explanation. He knew he owed it to her, because this was a terrible inconvenience on her part and he couldn't just show up like this anyway without telling her. He owed it to her, but thinking about it made the nauseous feeling come back and he had to swallow back the bile that rose in his throat.

"It's a long story," he finally murmured quietly, his eyes firmly glued to the floor.

A good many people would have never seen a splinching wound before and he was lucky that it was something so relatively minor. Taking him to St Mungo's would have raised more questions than she cared to answer, but it had been her experience there that had meant she had known just what to do. She could lecture him, but now wasn't the time.

Lightly, she cupped his cheek and gave a reassuring smile.

"I have all the time in the world, sweetheart. How would you like to go and take a shower, I'll clean your clothes up while you're washing all of this blood off, then I'll make you some coffee and we can talk."

It would really be much, much easier to speak with him when he didn't look like he'd just rolled through a slaughterhouse. Vampiric concentration suffered under such conditions.

Bro knew he needed to go shower. He knew it, but he really didn't want to. He was tired, and even though the dittany helped, he was still kind of sore and just generally miserable as hell for so many different reasons. He just didn't want to move from where he was sitting. But for her, he would, because he knew why she had suggested it. Dolores was being subtle, but Bro knew that it was her way of asking him to please wash the blood off so that she didn't suffer anymore than she needed to because of his blood. So with a nod, he moved to stand up, trying not to let out a groan as he did so. His whole body just ached.

"Thanks," he murmured after a few moments, arching his back so that he could get it to pop, letting out a low breath when it did. He let Dolores lead him to the bathroom. It was a colossal effort not to allow himself to break down in the shower, but somehow he managed it. Up until that point he'd been moving on sheer self preservation and adrenaline. Now that he was alone, it was really hard not to just think about everything that had happened. He didn't want to have a breakdown in Dolores's shower, though, so it literally took everything he had not to. It was kind of amazing how easy it was for him to retreat back behind all of his walls. Amazing, and yet scary.

Which is why he tried to make it quick, though he made sure to get all the blood off oh him. He also made sure that it had all gone completely down the drain and that there was nothing left in the tub when he was finished. Changing into his now clean clothes, he made his way slowly into the living room, where he plopped himself down. "So I'm assuming there's no way you're gonna just let me go to sleep instead, are you?" he murmured quietly, his head lolling against the back of the couch.

While he was gone, she cleaned his clothes up with a quick spell and then cleared the blood stains from the couch and carpet. She was well stocked on the potions she used to control the bloodlust but being exposed to that much fresh blood at once was more than jarring to her system. Whatever the reason for his easy agreement - though she suspected that he was mostly doing it for her - she was grateful.

She left his clothes outside the bathroom door, and would no doubt be grateful for how thoroughly he'd cleaned the tub out when she went to check later. When he sat, she took a seat beside him and looked over at him with a quietly sympathetic expression.

"You're a grown man, dear. If you want to go to sleep I certainly shan't stop you. There's a spare room upstairs. I think that it might do you some good to get a little of this out of your system first, though.." Dolores patted his hand gently, then curled her fingers around his. Heck, he could sleep on the couch right here if he wanted to, but that wasn't something she'd just offer out of nowhere. "It's up to you."

He let out a hum at her words, nodding. He was quiet for another few moments, staring up at the ceiling, before he looked down when she took him by the hand. He didn't object, instead opting to just give it a squeeze. It was... comforting. Bro had grown used to more physical affection lately. A few months ago he wouldn't have known what to do. But now he can take it for what it is, and it makes him feel slightly better.

Bro knew he owed her an explanation, though. As much as he wanted to sleep, he couldn't. And she was right- maybe... Maybe talking about it would make him feel better. The way his stomach twisted as he thought about it said otherwise, but that wasn't exactly a good indicator as to how he would feel after talking about it. Either way he had to tell her, because he couldn't just show up at her house like this and go to bed right after she'd healed him. That would've been fucking rude as hell.

So finally, he drew in a breath and let it out. Giving her hand another squeeze but not looking directly at her, he finally spoke. "We had a fight- Murdoc and I."

"Ah.." She wouldn't have minded terribly if he'd wanted to sleep - no doubt she would have wanted to as well. The amount of blood he'd lost hadn't been something she'd been able to replace and he would probably be feeling drowsy for a while. Maybe it was a bit on the wrong side of socially acceptable for most people, but it had been a long time since she'd minded such things and besides.. she'd rather he look after himself.

Still, when he spoke she returned the squeeze against her fingers and let out that quiet sound of acknowledgement.

"You can tell me as much as you want to," she said gently. It must have been quite the argument if it could cause someone like him to splinch themselves in the aftermath. At least he hadn't lost a limb.

He could've went to sleep, but if he did then he would've regretted it. Imposing on her and then just crashing? That would've been shitty of him and for all his faults, he wasn't an asshole. She deserved an explanation and he would try his best to give her one. Even if the thought of talking about it makes his stomach churn and all of the feelings he'd up until then been able to push back threatened to bubble to the surface.

"I'd been there a couple of days," he murmured, "I finally decided to break out the laptop so I could introduce him to Disney movies. Figured it'd be a stupid, cheesy and... fun thing to do." He couldn't look at her anymore as he spoke. As he spoke, the anger he'd been feeling up until then was quickly leaving him and the hurt was setting in. Like it was all just finally hitting him, what'd happened. What Murdoc had said.

"He... considers me inferior because I'm Muggleborn."

She smiled a little, nodding an encouragement as he started to speak and keeping her eyes on his face as he explained. What he said didn't come as a surprise to her - Murdoc knew that she was muggleborn, and already considered lower in status because of her condition, but he had never been particularly vocal about it. What did surprise her was that he would have stuck to it so fiercely as to cause this kind of situation.

Dolores sighed and rested her hand on Bro's arm, rubbing a soft circle with her thumb. "It's a common and incorrect assumption of the majority of purebloods that halfbloods, and muggleborns like you and I are inferior by birth. It isn't true, of course, not medically or otherwise - we have the same potential as they do - but it's an old school of thought. I.. knew that Murdoc thought that way, but I hadn't thought him so closed-minded."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, sweetheart... I know this must be hard for you to talk about. If I can ask.. how did.." A pause, while she gestures to the shoulder she'd healed. "How did this happen?"

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