The Movement of Time
Where was she to turn now that the one man she knew who could help was choosing to turn his back on her and her situation? She splashed cool water on her tear-stained face as she tried to convince herself that not all was lost. "Miss Yekaterina," a soft, almost feminine voice called from just outside the open bathroom door. Swiftly, she spun around, clutching a well sharpened dagger behind her back – in a house run by an oppressive tyrant, one could never take too many precautions. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she spotted the young man who had called her standing in the doorway, looking nervous and scared as he always did. "Raivis, you frightened me! I didn't think anyone else would be up at this hour." She chuckled lightly to herself as she sheathed her dagger once again. "So-someone's at th-the door, M-Miss," he managed to stutter. Yekaterina nodded and walked past him, but suddenly stopped to face him. "Tell me, Raivis," she demanded gently. "Why is it that you always appear so afraid even when Ivan is not around?" When his innocent violet eyes met hers for the briefest of moments, she easily recognized the glistening threat of tears. "For the same reason you draw your dagger!" he shouts, eyes overflowing now as he runs down the hall and eventually out of sight. She smiled sadly; everyone who resided within these walls were governed solely by fear.
The chime of the doorbell ringing throughout the house jerked her back to reality. She hurried down the stairs to answer the door, but the moment she did, she wanted nothing more than to slam it. "What the hell do you want?" she asked venomously, glaring at the man that stood before her. "Hear me out before you start getting angry," the man pleaded. "Hear you out? You mean like how you heard me out the other day, Torris?" Yekaterina shot back. "Okay, so I deserve that one," Torris admits defeatedly. "You're damn right you do. Listen, Torris, there is an incredibly sick man upstairs whom I need to attend to, so if you don't mind..." Torris caught her hand before she moved to close the door on him, meeting her eyes and searching, searching for a tiny sparkle of compassion, but found none. Yekaterina smirked when he finally looked away. "Oh! So you've had a change of heart, have you?" she asks with biting sarcasm. He remains silent, looking down at the ground like a puppy waiting to be punished. "I have a man dying in my bed – I don't have time for games," she states impatiently. "Nor do I," Torris says, locking eyes with her. "Allow me to see my patient." She pulled her blade so that it rests just under his chin, the tip barely grazing the soft skin of his throat. "Listen here Torris Laurinaitis, I may not know what brought this about – I don't care – but if you so much as threaten him or his health, I will not be so forgiving." With a gentle hand, Torris guides her arm lower so that the point of the blade is over his heart. "Miss Yekaterina Braginskaya, you have my word as a man that I will do no such thing and if I go back on this promise, you have my permission to punish me any way you see fit, including death," Torris whispers almost seductively. She spins on her heel, but not before he had caught a glimpse of a light blush dusting her cheeks. "Follow me," Yekaterina says in an attempt at a monotone. He does as instructed even though he already knew the way to her room by heart from all those times he had visited in the middle of the night to comfort her.
Standing outside her door, he faces her and requests, "I would prefer you to stay out here while I examine him." She looks defiantly at him, her icy blue eyes glittering with sorrow and replies, "No. I will be with you, I have to be of some use around here and after all, he is my responsibility." "Katna," he murmurs kindly. "You don't have to pretend to put up such a brave front. He reaches out his arm to stroke her cheek affectionately, but she slaps it away, practically shouting, "Don't you dare call me that! I don't need your damn pity." Torris sighs and walks into the room with Yekaterina right behind him. She wastes no time, quickly rushing to the bedside table to wet a cloth in the bowl of water and walking over to the man writhing in pain on her bed. The silver haired man lifts his head to stare blankly at her and in a hoarse voice whispers, "Yekaterina is that you?" "Shh, Gilbert, it's me. Relax, someone's here to look at you. This is Torris Laurinaitis, he will be acting as your physician upon my request," she says like a mother speaking to her ill child. The man takes her hand in both of his own and mutters his thanks. She steps aside so that Torris can have better access to the man, but never does she let go of his hand.
When Torris steps up, Gilbert's clouded red eyes fall upon him and he smirks, despite his condition. "So you're the infamous Torris. You look exactly how she said you would." He disregarded that statement as the fever talking and went about his work, checking his heartbeat, looking for any signs of infections, and lastly, the severity of his wounds. "There's really not much we can do I'm afraid other than help him with the symptoms because I cannot locate the source of his fever. His wounds are – they're healing well. You've done a good job dressing them, Katn-Yekaterina," Torris says not wanting to look at her still. "Thank you," she mutters, her face reddening slightly at the compliment. He moved to embrace her but soon thought better of it and walked to the door instead. "I'll be back tomorrow with the medication he needs," Torris said in a business-like tone. "No! Ah, Yekaterina can go pick it up," Gilbert managed to choke out with some difficulty. He nodded and replied, "I'll just see myself out. See you tomorrow, Miss Yekaterina." With a slight bow, the brunette man took his leave of the two.
"Why did you do that, Gilbert?" Yekaterina asked solemnly once she heard the front door open and close. "You two seemed like you had something you needed to work out alone," Gilbert replied simply, closing his eyes. "You heard us didn't you?" He nodded slowly before lapsing into a slumber moments later. "You have no idea," she said, absentmindedly carding through his smooth hair. What would she say when she met with Torris tomorrow? What could she say?