[He's been in bed most of the day, unwilling victim to a flu running rampant through the mines. Normally he would have worked through it, but his bones have ached something awful for days now. He's barely slept, still awake now when Silco slips in the way he used to when they were children.
He makes a sound like a wheeze, brows furrowing as he turns his head, nose catching the sooty mass of Silco's hair. ] What happened?
[Because something did - beyond the horizon of Silco's hair, he can see the bandages, the dirt, the traces of dried blood. ] You okay? Did you get hurt?
[ He feels almost angry, something squeezed tight and vicious in his chest. At their Piltie employers, but also at Vander, for scaring him. ]
I thought...
[ He thought he was dead. He spent a long time certain of it, that Vander had died and all the things Silco hadn't said had calcified in his chest. Are still there now, a sick lump.
Vander is fever hot and Silco breathes it in, not caring that he'll probably get sick too, tightening his embrace. If he was the kind of person who knew how to cry, he'd probably be crying. ]
[ A shuddering and helpless exhale at hands on him, but there's nothing for them to find except Silco's wiry body. ]
Scraped my hands. Nothing serious.
[ Snapped nails and grazed palms as he'd thrown himself in a frenzy at hateful rocks. Vander's body is softer by contrast, warm reassurance. Of course it's terrible that others died, but not this one, the center of his little universe that all else circles. ]
Kytter. Tunneller too, but she's been dug out alive. Denrich is missing, they think he might be trapped further in. And you were — they didn't mark you off sick, it was only when Tun said you hadn't been on the shift we realized you weren't caught in it.
[ An exhale, and with this report completed he buries his nose back in Vander's chest, indulging himself in it. ]
[ He has to lie with it for a minute, his big hands soothing Silco’s hip, his back. This isn’t the first collapse; these aren’t the first friends they’ve lost to the mines, and they won’t be the last. Next time it could be them buried under five feet of dirt and coal.
Next time -
Unthinkingly, his arms wrap around Silco tight. Squeezing, desperate to keep him in one place. He buries his nose into the black of his hair and smells smoke and grime and inhales it deep. He should get up and man the rescue. He should be putting on his boots and preparing himself for days of digging out bodies.
Instead he holds Silco tight enough to fuse their ribcages together, futile desperation to keep him safe.]
Let me see the scrapes, [ he says after a beat, voice trembling in its roughness. ] They might’ve missed something.
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He makes a sound like a wheeze, brows furrowing as he turns his head, nose catching the sooty mass of Silco's hair. ] What happened?
[Because something did - beyond the horizon of Silco's hair, he can see the bandages, the dirt, the traces of dried blood. ] You okay? Did you get hurt?
no subject
[ He feels almost angry, something squeezed tight and vicious in his chest. At their Piltie employers, but also at Vander, for scaring him. ]
I thought...
[ He thought he was dead. He spent a long time certain of it, that Vander had died and all the things Silco hadn't said had calcified in his chest. Are still there now, a sick lump.
Vander is fever hot and Silco breathes it in, not caring that he'll probably get sick too, tightening his embrace. If he was the kind of person who knew how to cry, he'd probably be crying. ]
no subject
[Because they've surely lost someone. Someones. He starts feeling clumsily along Silco's arms, his hips, hastily search for any sign of injury. ]
You're all right? You're in one piece?
no subject
Scraped my hands. Nothing serious.
[ Snapped nails and grazed palms as he'd thrown himself in a frenzy at hateful rocks. Vander's body is softer by contrast, warm reassurance. Of course it's terrible that others died, but not this one, the center of his little universe that all else circles. ]
Kytter. Tunneller too, but she's been dug out alive. Denrich is missing, they think he might be trapped further in. And you were — they didn't mark you off sick, it was only when Tun said you hadn't been on the shift we realized you weren't caught in it.
[ An exhale, and with this report completed he buries his nose back in Vander's chest, indulging himself in it. ]
no subject
Next time -
Unthinkingly, his arms wrap around Silco tight. Squeezing, desperate to keep him in one place. He buries his nose into the black of his hair and smells smoke and grime and inhales it deep. He should get up and man the rescue. He should be putting on his boots and preparing himself for days of digging out bodies.
Instead he holds Silco tight enough to fuse their ribcages together, futile desperation to keep him safe.]
Let me see the scrapes, [ he says after a beat, voice trembling in its roughness. ] They might’ve missed something.