((Closed except to those in the Red Wings or would have reason to be in their HQ. This thread is mostly a way to play out the changes in Alexei as the conditioning that left him emotionless deteriorates.))
The air was cold. The harsh heat of Thanalan’s day had given way to the chill of night.
Alexei opened his eyes, it was dark and silent, save for the faint sound of breathing coming from another part of the room. He blinked and propped himself up on his elbows, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. It took a moment, but he remembered where he was. He was in the basement of the Red Wings headquarters, Kahn’a had asked that Alexei move here while he recovered. Shapes began to form out of the black as he became accustomed to the darkness; a table to his right, four chairs, the rest of the room came into focus.
Reaching behind him, Alexei grabbed the rolled up coat he’d been using as a pillow against the hard floor. It was cold, but that did not bother him, he was used to discomfort. Alexei slowly got to his feet, a task made more difficult by his left leg refusing to work. He stared down at the leg and prodded it with a finger. He felt nothing. It had been almost a week since a bullet had entered his skull, the lost motor control and sensation in his leg had not improved. He frowned, it was likely a permanent effect of the brain damage.
The hyur took a moment to steady himself, then silently walked across the room to the source of breathing. Alexei stopped next to a table, on it lay a miqo’te, sleeping soundly. He looked down at Askier and laid his coat atop the man, taking care not to disturb his slumber. The night was cold, he did not want Askier to get sick. Alexei turned and limped over to a wall, sitting down with his back resting against it. Looking back at Askier he pondered the man. His responsibility. Yes, but more than that. Friend? Perhaps, Askier had told him he was. Alexei frowned again. Could he even have a friend? Unknown. It had been years since he had felt anything, and then he’d met Askier.
Their first meeting had been like many of Alexei’s interactions with the people of Eorzea up to that point, he had tried to kill Askier. Everything had changed after that. He had become Askier’s caretaker after he’d been tortured. A strange relationship had grown out of that. Askier now smiled at him, called him friend, had even hugged him. Alexei continued to watch the sleeping miqo’te. He felt something when around Askier. He was not sure what though, he couldn’t remember how emotions felt. Alexei shut his eyes and shook his head, then opening his eyes again. It did not matter. Alexei was a tool. Tools do not have friends. He had a purpose to fulfill, to serve.
A muscle in his left leg twitched. He looked down at it. Did it even matter what his purpose was anymore? Since his injury he was finding it difficult to concentrate. His left leg sometimes did not work, his other muscles occasionally had spasms as his damaged brain misfired. Sometimes he'd temporarily become unaware of his surroundings. He’d even had a seizure. Alexei raised a hand to his forehead, feeling the scar from where the bullet had penetrated his skull, and thought of his future. Was he broken? Maybe, the long term damages were still unknown. Would he still be able to function well enough to be of use? Tools that broke were discarded. Would he be discarded? Alexei shook his head. He needed rest. Recovery was a long process and staying awake pondering what was to come was a waste. The future would come in due time. He just had to wait and see what it held for him. He rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes.
The air was cold, but he did not mind.
The air was cold. The harsh heat of Thanalan’s day had given way to the chill of night.
Alexei opened his eyes, it was dark and silent, save for the faint sound of breathing coming from another part of the room. He blinked and propped himself up on his elbows, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. It took a moment, but he remembered where he was. He was in the basement of the Red Wings headquarters, Kahn’a had asked that Alexei move here while he recovered. Shapes began to form out of the black as he became accustomed to the darkness; a table to his right, four chairs, the rest of the room came into focus.
Reaching behind him, Alexei grabbed the rolled up coat he’d been using as a pillow against the hard floor. It was cold, but that did not bother him, he was used to discomfort. Alexei slowly got to his feet, a task made more difficult by his left leg refusing to work. He stared down at the leg and prodded it with a finger. He felt nothing. It had been almost a week since a bullet had entered his skull, the lost motor control and sensation in his leg had not improved. He frowned, it was likely a permanent effect of the brain damage.
The hyur took a moment to steady himself, then silently walked across the room to the source of breathing. Alexei stopped next to a table, on it lay a miqo’te, sleeping soundly. He looked down at Askier and laid his coat atop the man, taking care not to disturb his slumber. The night was cold, he did not want Askier to get sick. Alexei turned and limped over to a wall, sitting down with his back resting against it. Looking back at Askier he pondered the man. His responsibility. Yes, but more than that. Friend? Perhaps, Askier had told him he was. Alexei frowned again. Could he even have a friend? Unknown. It had been years since he had felt anything, and then he’d met Askier.
Their first meeting had been like many of Alexei’s interactions with the people of Eorzea up to that point, he had tried to kill Askier. Everything had changed after that. He had become Askier’s caretaker after he’d been tortured. A strange relationship had grown out of that. Askier now smiled at him, called him friend, had even hugged him. Alexei continued to watch the sleeping miqo’te. He felt something when around Askier. He was not sure what though, he couldn’t remember how emotions felt. Alexei shut his eyes and shook his head, then opening his eyes again. It did not matter. Alexei was a tool. Tools do not have friends. He had a purpose to fulfill, to serve.
A muscle in his left leg twitched. He looked down at it. Did it even matter what his purpose was anymore? Since his injury he was finding it difficult to concentrate. His left leg sometimes did not work, his other muscles occasionally had spasms as his damaged brain misfired. Sometimes he'd temporarily become unaware of his surroundings. He’d even had a seizure. Alexei raised a hand to his forehead, feeling the scar from where the bullet had penetrated his skull, and thought of his future. Was he broken? Maybe, the long term damages were still unknown. Would he still be able to function well enough to be of use? Tools that broke were discarded. Would he be discarded? Alexei shook his head. He needed rest. Recovery was a long process and staying awake pondering what was to come was a waste. The future would come in due time. He just had to wait and see what it held for him. He rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes.
The air was cold, but he did not mind.
![[Image: Emblem%252520by%252520Rhea%252520Zaheela%252520x50.png]](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5YSh8yMniHU/VlLStr_7SSI/AAAAAAAAIQ4/qLoOmtz-Jdg/s100-Ic42/Emblem%252520by%252520Rhea%252520Zaheela%252520x50.png)
