(no subject)

[thewidewideworld]

[from here}

Sinric comes down from his room, still dressed his furs and heavily embroiled tunic but looking fresh and scrubbed.

He smiles brightly to see Hannibal.

Comments

[thewidewideworld]

"The challenge is in balance." Sinric answer in Japanese. "And fluidity of self."

He takes Niketas' hand, changing back to Latin to guide the prince to lay back.

[cook_the_rude]

"Let us see to those tear ducts now," Hannibal says, putting down his empty tea cup.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric resumes his place, holding Niketas' cheeks to keep them taut. "Tell us if you begin to feel the area around your eyes."

When he sings this time he offers distraction as well as sooth.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal opens up the eye again and starts dabbing at the opening of the tear duct.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric's fingers stroke Niketas' wrist, gently humming to the sound of the music and drawing the prince slowly into a trance.

Refreshed now and feeling stronger, he has better control over his gifts, directing them with care.

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal is using his magnifying glass and working very, very slowly.

[thewidewideworld]

Niketas is still and relaxed, bound under the spell of Sinric's voice. Sinric is careful to shield Hannibal, not wanting to distract him from his work. Work that seems to be going well, not that Sinric's any judge of these things.

[cook_the_rude]

The blood that well from the tear duct next is clear.

[thewidewideworld]

"It is going well." Sinric whispers to Niketas. "Hannibal is taking very good care of you. Your eye will hurt much less after this."

Niketas mumbles his thanks back, drifting on whatever vision Sinric has him wrapped in.

[cook_the_rude]

"You will weep tears now," Hannibal declares, "and the eye will no longer remain dry. Can you point to where the light comes from."

[thewidewideworld]

"At the moment, the roof of my father's palace." Niketas says dreamily.

Sinric gives an apologetic nod and eases back, drawing the prince into the present. "And now."

Niketas refocuses slowly and points to the window. "It is faint and blurred. I see no detail, but there is light."

[cook_the_rude]

"That is what I was hoping for," Hannibal says. "It may even become a tiny bit better with time, and regular use of the eye drops, but not much. As for your other eye, eye drops with painkillers, and if the pain doesn't get better, I'd suggest amputation. In my time, there would be a chance of corneal transplant, plus maybe artificial lenses for both eyes, restoring much of your actual eyesight, but unless the door lets you into Milliways and we declare it a miracle, simply managing the pain and being able to see dark figures in sunlight might be the best we can aim for."

[thewidewideworld]

"I would accept a miracle and gladly. But it would mean having to leave this life, this name behind."

Niketas turns his face to Sinric, squeezing his hand. "But I could not do that alone."

Sinric bites his lower lip, glad Niketas can't see the expression on his face, the reluctance and conflict. "Nobelissimos, I-"

Niketas holds a hand up to hush him, hearing it in his voice. "I had no right to ask it of you. Forgive me."

"I will stay with you." Sinric offers, "as long as I can."

Niketas pats his hand and Sinric turns away to blot tears from his own eyes with the sleeve of his tunic. "What should I do from here, Doctor?"

[cook_the_rude]

"Go forward," Hannibal says. "Treat your eyes with those drops, and keep the improvements secret at first."

[thewidewideworld]

"You might consider a pilgrimage?" Sinric suggests softly, bringing Hannibal the bowl of water to wash his hands. "Rome perhaps. Once you're healed and ready."

[cook_the_rude]

"Take Sinric to help you until you get there," Hannibal says. "By the time you reach it, you will know to find your way. Perhaps three or five of the young monks from here, too. The ones you get on best with."

The ones most likely to be punished by the abbot, that is.

[thewidewideworld]

Niketas nods slowly, considering. "Rome would be... a good change of pace. And there are a few young men here who were meant for more than this."

Sinric looks up at Hannibal, gratitude in his eyes. The path is righting itself.

[cook_the_rude]

"They deserve that chance," Hannibal says. "As do you."

[thewidewideworld]

"But that is a plan for another day. You should rest a day or two before we begin such a journey." Sinric strokes Niketas' hair. "And I need to return to the bar to collect the drops for your eyes."

He helps Niketas to sit up. "Let me lead you to your bed. It's already well past noon and we'll be missed."

[cook_the_rude]

"Are the monks allowed a feast on Christmas?" Hannibal asks.

[thewidewideworld]

"Indeed." Niketas answers, leaning heavily on Sinric as he stands. "Or what passes for a feast here. I'm afraid Sinric and I have... other standards."

Sinric laughs lightly. "Just so. There will be a large communal meal at sunset. To celebrate the birth of Christ. It would be best for us to been seen there."

[cook_the_rude]

"That is what I was going to suggest," Hannibal says. "Even if it is not up to highest standards, I am curious."

[thewidewideworld]

"Niketas, you should rest. I can come and wake you before the feast and help you dress." Sinric glances over his shoulder to Hannie. "There are parts of the enclave I'd very much like to show you, if you're not too tired?"

He guides Niketas to his cell, settling him on the straw mattress. He reaches into his pouch and draws out a small lacquered box with pills inside. He glances to Hannibal, making sure the strong pain killers are alright to give Niketas. "Your face will ache when you wake. This will help."

[cook_the_rude]

Hannibal nods. "Take one, then wait for about an hour before taking another, if you are still in pain," Hannibal says. "And I would be very glad to see everything. In my time, all this has been destroyed and rebuilt several times over."

[thewidewideworld]

Niketas swallows the pill as Sinric instructs and lays back on the bed. His expression is drawn and tired, now that Sinric's magic is withdrawing. "Strange to think we are nothing but dust to you. Time is the death of all. Men and Empires." the last word slurs as sleep claims him.

Sinric sighs, feeling a load lift from his shoulders. He draws Hannibal outside, closing the door behind him so Niketas will not be disturbed.

He walks in silence out to the courtyard, lifting his face to the weak afternoon sun, eyes closed to bask in it. "Thank you." It's said so softly, so heartfelt.