The last lab was full of babies. Dozens of babies, unnaturally silent and still in plastic cribs. Each sported almost as many wires and sensors as the scourge-infected man, and above several IV bags hung, dripping a horribly familiar substance.
The bastards are infecting babies on purpose? What the hell for?
Of the infants, only one seemed to notice him, reaching out with chubby arms. Cor's vision swam, and he tasted blood before he realized he'd bitten his hand.
This was too much. Too much. His mind racing, he crossed off a thousand ways to save them all, each more foolhardy than the last. You couldn't put babies in the armiger. Nothing alive.
I can save at least one from this hell.
Mind resolved, Cor turned to the room's cabinets for supplies, caching everything he touched. Diapers. Formula. Bottles. Towels. Antiseptic. Whatever the hell's in these boxes.
There was no easy answer on which baby to save, no choice that would allay the heaviness in his soul, so Cor went to the infant that had reached for him, peeling electrodes from delicate skin, pressing guaze and a sticky bandage to the baby's scalp as he pulled out the IV port, averting his gaze from the soft blue eyes brimming with tears.
He picked the baby up, froze for a moment, and put it back down. And Cor the Immortal, short of time as he was, managed to fumble his way through changing his first dirty diaper.
You're lucky, kid, that my stomach's already empty.
He pulled the sheet covering the crib's thin mattress up, and tied it into a sling with an extra from the cabinets to cradle the baby tight against his chest, over the unstained shirt he'd pulled from the armiger.
Tugging the knots to make sure they were secure, Cor took one last look around at the rows of babies, and he felt his heart break.
"I'm so sorry."
----
As he jogged back down the hall, Cor slowed at one particular door. He couldn't save the man inside, but he could at least grant him a final mercy. He untied the sling and situated the babe on the floor.
"Wait here for me, OK?"
Cor pushed through the broken door and approached the table more slowly this time, stepping carefully around the drying sludge on the floor, grabbing more gloves and pulling them on. Those unnatural eyes, still uncovered, followed his progress.
When Cor reached him, holding up his hands to show he meant no harm, the man flinched, and tried to turn his head, but he couldn't pull away.
Sighing, Cor dropped his hands. Thinking of the dying soldiers he'd comforted in Accordo, he reached out to touch the man's undamaged arm, stroking it softly. Those eyes flicked back to him, the man's confusion plain even through the disfiguring blood.
Moving slowly, Cor reached across to pull the leather bit from the man's mouth. He spoke as softly as he could, in the language of the Empire.
"Do you want me to end this? I can make it quick."
The man squinted at him, and looked away. Cor tried again in Lucian.
The man swallowed, and licked his lips several times.
"Nescio. Quis es tú?"
It came out quiet and harsh, and brought on a round of coughing. Cor stepped back, considering. Whoever the man was, he didn't speak Nif or Lucian, and Cor didn't have time. He reached down to lace the fingers of his left hand through the man's own, summoned a long dagger behind his back, and brought it around slowly, miming striking at his own heart.
After a long pause, the man smiled softly. It was ghoulish.
"Sis me interfice," and his yellow eyes slid closed.
In seconds, it was done. The man's eyelids fluttered, but he made no sound apart from a quick gasp as the knife found his heart.
Be at peace.
Cor watched for a moment after the man's breathing stopped, to honor this stranger with the raveged body. He withdrew the blade slowly, intending to leave it behind as an offering, and as a message to whoever found the remains. He flexed his fingers to pull away his left hand away and the body jerked, and his hand was suddenly caught in an iron grip. The knife fell loud to the floor, loud as anything Cor had ever heard.
~~~~
I have nothing but a few 19th century Latin phrasebooks and ye olde internet... so, uh, please forgive any mistakes (but corrections are welcome!). What Ardyn's saying here is "I don't understand. Who are you?" and "Kill me, if you are willing." I think.
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timeasmymeasure
Re: Fill #2 (3/?): Ardyn + Cor + Prompto, Dysfunctional escaped lab rat family
Date: 2017-09-16 12:47 am (UTC)~~~~
The last lab was full of babies. Dozens of babies, unnaturally silent and still in plastic cribs. Each sported almost as many wires and sensors as the scourge-infected man, and above several IV bags hung, dripping a horribly familiar substance.
The bastards are infecting babies on purpose? What the hell for?
Of the infants, only one seemed to notice him, reaching out with chubby arms. Cor's vision swam, and he tasted blood before he realized he'd bitten his hand.
This was too much. Too much. His mind racing, he crossed off a thousand ways to save them all, each more foolhardy than the last. You couldn't put babies in the armiger. Nothing alive.
I can save at least one from this hell.
Mind resolved, Cor turned to the room's cabinets for supplies, caching everything he touched. Diapers. Formula. Bottles. Towels. Antiseptic. Whatever the hell's in these boxes.
There was no easy answer on which baby to save, no choice that would allay the heaviness in his soul, so Cor went to the infant that had reached for him, peeling electrodes from delicate skin, pressing guaze and a sticky bandage to the baby's scalp as he pulled out the IV port, averting his gaze from the soft blue eyes brimming with tears.
He picked the baby up, froze for a moment, and put it back down. And Cor the Immortal, short of time as he was, managed to fumble his way through changing his first dirty diaper.
You're lucky, kid, that my stomach's already empty.
He pulled the sheet covering the crib's thin mattress up, and tied it into a sling with an extra from the cabinets to cradle the baby tight against his chest, over the unstained shirt he'd pulled from the armiger.
Tugging the knots to make sure they were secure, Cor took one last look around at the rows of babies, and he felt his heart break.
"I'm so sorry."
----
As he jogged back down the hall, Cor slowed at one particular door. He couldn't save the man inside, but he could at least grant him a final mercy. He untied the sling and situated the babe on the floor.
"Wait here for me, OK?"
Cor pushed through the broken door and approached the table more slowly this time, stepping carefully around the drying sludge on the floor, grabbing more gloves and pulling them on. Those unnatural eyes, still uncovered, followed his progress.
When Cor reached him, holding up his hands to show he meant no harm, the man flinched, and tried to turn his head, but he couldn't pull away.
Sighing, Cor dropped his hands. Thinking of the dying soldiers he'd comforted in Accordo, he reached out to touch the man's undamaged arm, stroking it softly. Those eyes flicked back to him, the man's confusion plain even through the disfiguring blood.
Moving slowly, Cor reached across to pull the leather bit from the man's mouth. He spoke as softly as he could, in the language of the Empire.
"Do you want me to end this? I can make it quick."
The man squinted at him, and looked away. Cor tried again in Lucian.
The man swallowed, and licked his lips several times.
"Nescio. Quis es tú?"
It came out quiet and harsh, and brought on a round of coughing. Cor stepped back, considering. Whoever the man was, he didn't speak Nif or Lucian, and Cor didn't have time. He reached down to lace the fingers of his left hand through the man's own, summoned a long dagger behind his back, and brought it around slowly, miming striking at his own heart.
After a long pause, the man smiled softly. It was ghoulish.
"Sis me interfice," and his yellow eyes slid closed.
In seconds, it was done. The man's eyelids fluttered, but he made no sound apart from a quick gasp as the knife found his heart.
Be at peace.
Cor watched for a moment after the man's breathing stopped, to honor this stranger with the raveged body. He withdrew the blade slowly, intending to leave it behind as an offering, and as a message to whoever found the remains. He flexed his fingers to pull away his left hand away and the body jerked, and his hand was suddenly caught in an iron grip. The knife fell loud to the floor, loud as anything Cor had ever heard.
~~~~
I have nothing but a few 19th century Latin phrasebooks and ye olde internet... so, uh, please forgive any mistakes (but corrections are welcome!). What Ardyn's saying here is "I don't understand. Who are you?" and "Kill me, if you are willing." I think.