Sold! (Leonidas)
Apr 4, 2016 23:30:14 GMT -5
Post by troylus on Apr 4, 2016 23:30:14 GMT -5
(OOC this was written blurbing with Meerclar and I writing together and then split in two parts for posting purposes)
As soon as Leonidas had left the room Michelle flew to Petros’s side, her sensitive fingers feeling his back, avoiding the bleeding areas, trying to assess the damage. She saw his fingers moving and turned to look at them. She nodded but held up one finger indicating he should wait a moment. She lifted the edge of his shirt, wincing at the sight of blood on his back. She felt terrible for him, and it was her fault for angering their master. At the same time though a small part of her was very glad it was him and not her that had been beaten - there was no way she could have managed the pain of those blows from that whip.
She tugged at the shirt, wanting him to take it off before the blood started to clot and dry as it would surely stick to the wounds making them worse.
Petros tried to help pull his shirt up, but lifting his arms up took his breath away and he shook his head in mute protest.
She stepped in front of him and undid the buttons of his shirt, sliding it carefully over his shoulders trying to avoid it contacting his damaged, bleeding skin as much as possible. She handed it to him, and slowly spelled out, ‘Wash it in cold water.’ She pointed to herself, ‘Will start cooking then help you with back.’
‘Where?’ He gestured helplessly at the shirt. The idea of wandering half dressed around this house searching for somewhere to wash his clothes when he had been ordered to cook a meal, wasn’t appealing.
She grimaced, taking the already blood stained shirt and dabbing carefully at the trails of the stuff snaking down Petro’s back. Then she tied the shirt around his waist so at least any more blood would soak into it rather than ruining his pants as well. She shrugged at him apologetically, having nothing she could think of to ease his suffering or tend to him any better than that. She had an ominous sense of time ticking away relentlessly - they had to get this meal started right away. She took Petros by the hand and lead him back to the kitchen that they had seen as Leop first took them to the entrance to the servant’s quarters. Cooking she could do, although she was used to the other avox deciding on the menu and just handing her tasks to complete. She washed her hands in the sink and then started pawing through the cupboards and fridge to find something to work with.
Petros washed his own hands and then stood back and watched her, feeling useless and very tired. There was a feeling of looming dread that he couldn’t shake off. They didn’t even know what this man likes to eat, and had just over half an hour to find AND cook something in a kitchen the had never been in before, and without being able to speak to each other.
This was clearly the house of a bachelor, a very rich one, yes, but a bachelor none the less. She found some pasta, an onion that looked like it had been in the pot a little too long, and a collection of random vegetables stuffed into the bottom of the fridge. She handed Petros some garlic cloves with a chopping board and knife, and pointed for him to sit on a box to work, hoping he would know what to do as she mimed peeling and crushing it.
Petros had helped his mother in their kitchen on occasion. He didn’t think he was up to preparing a delicious meal on his own, but crushing garlic seemed achievable enough and he nodded and got to work, trying to hurry without cutting his own fingers. The feeling of blood trickling slowly down his back and drying there was very distracting.
Once she had the water on to boil, she handed him the onion, because she hated cutting those, they made her eyes sting painfully for hours. ‘Frozen meat maybe, but take too long?’ Her fingers were shaking with her nerves as the minutes seemed to be ticking away in her mind too fast, but she forced herself to move them as clearly and slowly as she could to make sure he was following.
‘What make?’ He signed back even slower.
‘Pasta with,’ she pointed at the garlic, onion and vegetables she had selected.
He didn’t expect the soft groan that came out of his mouth at the overwhelming stress of just trying to make a meal.
She pointed again at the garlic and onion, ‘Tastes good even if a bit stale.’
‘Can cut frozen, cook faster?’
She pointed to the freezer, needing him to look into that while she got the onion and garlic browning in a pan.
As soon as Leonidas had left the room Michelle flew to Petros’s side, her sensitive fingers feeling his back, avoiding the bleeding areas, trying to assess the damage. She saw his fingers moving and turned to look at them. She nodded but held up one finger indicating he should wait a moment. She lifted the edge of his shirt, wincing at the sight of blood on his back. She felt terrible for him, and it was her fault for angering their master. At the same time though a small part of her was very glad it was him and not her that had been beaten - there was no way she could have managed the pain of those blows from that whip.
She tugged at the shirt, wanting him to take it off before the blood started to clot and dry as it would surely stick to the wounds making them worse.
Petros tried to help pull his shirt up, but lifting his arms up took his breath away and he shook his head in mute protest.
She stepped in front of him and undid the buttons of his shirt, sliding it carefully over his shoulders trying to avoid it contacting his damaged, bleeding skin as much as possible. She handed it to him, and slowly spelled out, ‘Wash it in cold water.’ She pointed to herself, ‘Will start cooking then help you with back.’
‘Where?’ He gestured helplessly at the shirt. The idea of wandering half dressed around this house searching for somewhere to wash his clothes when he had been ordered to cook a meal, wasn’t appealing.
She grimaced, taking the already blood stained shirt and dabbing carefully at the trails of the stuff snaking down Petro’s back. Then she tied the shirt around his waist so at least any more blood would soak into it rather than ruining his pants as well. She shrugged at him apologetically, having nothing she could think of to ease his suffering or tend to him any better than that. She had an ominous sense of time ticking away relentlessly - they had to get this meal started right away. She took Petros by the hand and lead him back to the kitchen that they had seen as Leop first took them to the entrance to the servant’s quarters. Cooking she could do, although she was used to the other avox deciding on the menu and just handing her tasks to complete. She washed her hands in the sink and then started pawing through the cupboards and fridge to find something to work with.
Petros washed his own hands and then stood back and watched her, feeling useless and very tired. There was a feeling of looming dread that he couldn’t shake off. They didn’t even know what this man likes to eat, and had just over half an hour to find AND cook something in a kitchen the had never been in before, and without being able to speak to each other.
This was clearly the house of a bachelor, a very rich one, yes, but a bachelor none the less. She found some pasta, an onion that looked like it had been in the pot a little too long, and a collection of random vegetables stuffed into the bottom of the fridge. She handed Petros some garlic cloves with a chopping board and knife, and pointed for him to sit on a box to work, hoping he would know what to do as she mimed peeling and crushing it.
Petros had helped his mother in their kitchen on occasion. He didn’t think he was up to preparing a delicious meal on his own, but crushing garlic seemed achievable enough and he nodded and got to work, trying to hurry without cutting his own fingers. The feeling of blood trickling slowly down his back and drying there was very distracting.
Once she had the water on to boil, she handed him the onion, because she hated cutting those, they made her eyes sting painfully for hours. ‘Frozen meat maybe, but take too long?’ Her fingers were shaking with her nerves as the minutes seemed to be ticking away in her mind too fast, but she forced herself to move them as clearly and slowly as she could to make sure he was following.
‘What make?’ He signed back even slower.
‘Pasta with,’ she pointed at the garlic, onion and vegetables she had selected.
He didn’t expect the soft groan that came out of his mouth at the overwhelming stress of just trying to make a meal.
She pointed again at the garlic and onion, ‘Tastes good even if a bit stale.’
‘Can cut frozen, cook faster?’
She pointed to the freezer, needing him to look into that while she got the onion and garlic browning in a pan.