Dualscar leaned over the side of the bed casually, pulling his boot up before sitting back to seek out any imperfections in the stitching. Once he had hauled himself off the bed and adjusted his belt accordingly, the violetblood turned to look at Psiioniic, who, to his surprise, was fidgeting about trying to pull the zipper up on the back of his suit. After several unsuccessful attempts to close his suit, Captor stopped, and looked down at the calf of his left leg, where a curious red splatter had blocked out the bright yellow. He pressed his hands to his face and let out a muffled sigh, trying to block out the thought that The Sufferer had been the one to help him with this bullshit- he failed miserably. Suddenly, a hand rested on his shoulder. Psiioniic looked up to find Dualscar there before him, sympathy settling in the depths of his eyes.
"It wwasn't my decision... but it had to be done."
Psiioniic glared at him with an unsaid intensity.
"What do you mean iit 'had to be done?!'"
"He wwas fighting for anarchy, Psii."
Psiioniic almost jumped off of the bed, standing tall over Dualscar. His eyes were ablaze, sparking uncontrollably.
"Fiir2t of all, he was preaching! 2econd, he wanted equaliity, not fuckiing anarachy!"
"He wwas a mutantblood!"
"He wa2 my comrade!"
"The Signless wwas an ambitious peasant wwho needed to be taken dowwn a feww notches, and that's exactly wwhat happened!"
Psiioniic's voice reached a near-screaming volume, his eyes glowing brightly against the still-dim lighting.
"DON'T YOU FUCKIING TALK ABOUT HIIM LIIKE HE WA2 ANYTHIING LE22 THAN ROYALTY!II THOUGHT THAT MAYBE YOU WOULD UNDER2TAND IIT. LIIKE MAYBE- JUST FUCKIING MAYBE, YOU WOULD BE DIIFFERENT FROM ALL THE OTHER SPOIILEDBLOOD TYRANT2. BUT WHY SHOULD YOU? YOU HAVE NO REA2ON TO FEEL ANYTHIING BUT YOUR OWN PETTY HATRED TOWARD2 ANYTHIING THAT THREATEN2 YOUR POSIITIION AS A ROYALBLOOD!"
"I DON'T NEED TO BE LECTURED BY A BEGGAR!"
The look of regret could not have been displayed on Dualscar's face nearly fast enough to stop Psiioniic from turning everything on the left side of his body into a first-grade firework show. Ampora hit the wall with a dull thud. The sleeves on his left arm had been completely burned off, leaving the entire left portion on his torso singed. The skin from his shoulder to the wrist had quickly turned into a raw, blistery purple mess, matching a newly formed gash on the side of his left leg. An outline of him remained on the wall, surrounded by a singed area on the wallpaper as Psiioniic pulled him away from the area of impact. The yellowblood held him tightly, a violet-covered hand held shakily beneath his head. He sat there on the ground, quivering and huffing quietly as a loud thunder of footsteps began to grow progressively louder. The door opened quickly to reveal a conjuration of crew members, all of which stared in confusion as to why the captain was burned and why this slave was tearing up about it. Captor turned to look at them, a pale yellow tear having left a trail of unsinged cleanliness of his face.
"Don't ju2t 2tand there! Get help!"
The small crowd of trolls cleared out in a few moments of organized scrambling, each being used to following blind orders. Dualscar blinked slowly and unevenly, but still managed to look Psiioniic in the eye as he rambled off shaky apologies. Captor lowered his head slowly, leaving a long, tender kiss on the middle of his plum-tinted forehead. After what seemed like forever of Psii's rambling concern and Dualscar's raspy attempts at communication, the crewmembers returned with several large buckets of salt water. Psiioniic demanded a sponge as soon as they showed up, dabbing the cold substance on the torn flesh carefully. The others only sat back and watched since apparently everyone but the slave applied it too agressively. Once he was mildly satisfied with the cleanliness, the yellowblood turned to look around the room briefly. He ripped his head back towards the crew members when he failed to find what he required.
"You diidn't briing any fuckiing bandage2?"
"Who tthe hell are you tto sitt tthere and lectture us, slave?"
"2hut the fuck up. Ii'm not the one who diidn't thiink to briing bandage2."
Psii had calmed down a considerable load, and had finished quivering quite a while ago. He grabbed the seam of his sleeve where it met the shoulder and tugged harshly, tearing it off neatly enough to where he could slide it carefully onto Dualscar's arm. He continued tearing off shreds of his clothes until all of the wound was covered. By the time he was finished, Psiioniic was hardly wearing what could be considered shorts. He picked up his captain delicately, with one arm under his shoulders and the other in the crook of his knee, and laid him gently on the bed. There were still a lot of obvious violet and yellow stains on the covers, which seemed to attract the attention of the few crew members who had stayed behind to help tend to the captain while the others had gone to get ointment and other medical supplies. The first of three who stayed was also the first to discover them.
"Hey, Hezm~ir. Take a look~it th~is."
One of the other trolls-supposedly Hezmir- walked over casually, followed eagerly by a small, scrawnier troll- probably a tealblood.
Psiioniic just sat there staring at Dualscar's unmoving body. He could tell that the small trio was staring at him, but there was no way out of this, and he knew it. He grumbled quietly into the violetblood's ear, talking under his breath about thoughts that he needed to share.
"Ii'm 2o 2orry Dual2car... Plea2e..."
The scrawny tealblood glanced up at him in shock.
"... What?"
"WhAt dId yOU jUst sAy?"
He sighed to himself in deep exasperhation. He forgot that calling him by his name was a big deal.
"Nothiing."
"BUllshIt, yOU cAllEd hIm by hIs nAmE!"
Psiioniic remained silent.
"SO yOU... HOly shIt. ThE CAptAIn's hAvIng An AffAIr wIth A slAvE."
The two other trolls, who had been listening intently, turned to look at him, then to the bedsheets, sometimes just glancing at the bedsheets to look at them as if they were the spawn of horrorterrors. As they sat there and acted like it was a medical phenomenon, Psiioniic just knelt by the bed, his chin resting on the matress, his hand running through Dualscar's hair, and every last shred of guilt he could ever muster up consuming his mind like a dense fog.
