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Biggles prompt fills continue
3. Prompt on Tumblr:
I saw a prompt that essentially went:
'an injured character getting patched up and it’s very painful, but it's their hands that are injured so the others can't even hold their hand to offer comfort, so instead someone is holding the injured character's head in their lap petting their hair and doing their best to soothe them until they’re finally patched up and able to rest, and the injured character falling asleep with their head still leaned into the other's touch, so they have to sit there with them until they too fall asleep'
and my mind immediately went to Biggles with an even pricklier than usual EvS.
It was clear that von Stalhein was in severe pain. He was white, verging on grey, and his lips were pressed together into a thin, pale line. Biggles, holding his wrist lightly in one hand while he worked on the embedded glass fragments in von Stalhein's blood-covered hand, could feel that he was rigid and trembling slightly with the effort of holding still. But despite the obvious brutal self-control that he was throwing into keeping himself still and silent, he still flinched as they picked out the glass and gravel and dabbed at the wounds with antiseptic.
"You know, you can scream if it helps," Algy remarked. He had the opposite hand, his head bent over it. Biggles had suggested that he could go back to trying to raise Ginger and Bertie on the radio if he liked, but Algy had only given him a look and got the medical kit instead.
"I am fine," von Stalhein said in a very tight voice which was about as far from fine as anything Biggles had ever heard.
They had nothing in the kit for pain except paracetamol, which they had given him, but it didn't seem to be helping much. Glancing up at von Stalhein's fixed, white face, Biggles was beginning to suspect that it wasn't merely the pain, but also a more deep-rooted and primitive fear. He needed his hands, and beneath the blood, it was difficult to tell how bad the damage was. Biggles knew that words of reassurance meant little at such a time. What von Stalhein needed was a distraction, but Biggles had tried and failed to engage him in conversation, and needed all his attention on what he was doing anyway. Trying to talk to Algy had the same issue.
Something else was needed, he decided, as von Stalhein jerked away from Algy's attempts to use a sterilized penknife to dig a deeply embedded piece of glass out of his palm. The knife slipped and gouged the side of Algy's hand. Algy cursed softly, pulling away to dab at it with a piece of gauze from the medical kit, but didn't say anything about it.
"I apologize," von Stalhein said stiffly. He pulled his hands sharply away from them, leaving streaks of his blood on their hands. "It is not necessary, just wrap them up. We can have this finished at the hospital."
"Yeah," Algy said, head bowed and not looking at von Stalhein as he taped a sticking plaster over the cut on his own hand. "So they can go on festering, get infected, is that what you want?"
"I don't think it's any of your business what I do," von Stalhein began, his voice a whipcrack.
"I have a suggestion," Biggles said hastily, over the top of both of them, before it could erupt into a full-blown fight. "Erich, I think it would be easier if you lie down. It will help you relax, and this will go faster if you don't watch."
"I prefer to see what's happening to me," von Stalhein said stiffly.
"I know you do, but it's causing you to tense in anticipation, and it isn't helping." Biggles laid von Stalhein's bleeding hand down carefully on the formerly clean scarf they had been using as a cushion. "Algy, do you mind working on this end of it, if I help him stay still?"
"Not a problem," Algy said. He took von Stalhein's hand again, with a gentleness that belied his careless tone. "If you can do that—and it's a big if ..."
Von Stalhein opened his mouth.
"Lie down, Erich." Biggles touched his shoulder. There was a moment when von Stalhein resisted, and Biggles would have let him, but then he allowed himself to be guided down to the ground—then went tense all over again when he found his head resting in Biggles's lap.
Biggles laid a hand lightly on his forehead. After a moment, he could feel von Stalhein begin to relax. He could also sense that Algy had about a million things he wasn't saying, but his cousin glanced up, met Biggles's eyes for a moment, and then went back to working on the glass fragments.
"Thank you," Biggles said.
"Oh, it's all part of the job," Algy muttered, applying himself with penknife and tweezers. "Fly an aeroplane, fight a few bandits, doctor our former worst enemy, all in a day's work ...."
He went on in a muttered monologue, as if he'd only been staying quiet earlier for Biggles's sake. Meanwhile, Biggles had begun to run his fingers lightly through von Stalhein's short hair. There was cold sweat beaded along his hairline. Biggles smoothed it away with his fingers.
"Remember back when we were trying to run a charter aviation company and for some reason we thought it was a good idea to take a commission to transport some farmer's cattle up to Perth?" Algy said suddenly. "And one of them stepped on your foot, Biggles, and broke three toes? Just thinking of that for some reason, can't imagine why."
Biggles smiled, as he continued to stroke von Stalhein's hair gently, and could feel the rigid tension in the man's body ebbing very gradually, one gentle stroke at a time. "I seem to remember one of them kicking you into the side of the machine. How were those tailbone bruises? And you had a hot date the next day, I recall."
"Had, Biggles, emphasis on had." Algy turned to drop a glass fragment on the ground and reached for the iodine and gauze.
Biggles continued running his hands through von Stalhein's hair and they chatted about past cases as Algy moved on to the other hand. Von Stalhein had become very relaxed by now, and it had been a while since Biggles had noticed him flinch at all. "Want help?" Biggles asked quietly as Algy got started on the hand Biggles had left half-finished.
"No need to wake sleeping beauty there," Algy said with a crooked smile, and Biggles looked down to discover that without his noticing, and despite the pain, von Stalhein had drifted into a state of total relaxation in his lap.
He wasn't actually asleep. Biggles felt him start to stir, and resumed the slow stroking, while Algy went back to working on his hands. By the time Algy had finished bandaging his other hand, he really did seem to be asleep, his eyes closed and his face turned against Biggles's thigh.
I saw a prompt that essentially went:
'an injured character getting patched up and it’s very painful, but it's their hands that are injured so the others can't even hold their hand to offer comfort, so instead someone is holding the injured character's head in their lap petting their hair and doing their best to soothe them until they’re finally patched up and able to rest, and the injured character falling asleep with their head still leaned into the other's touch, so they have to sit there with them until they too fall asleep'
and my mind immediately went to Biggles with an even pricklier than usual EvS.
It was clear that von Stalhein was in severe pain. He was white, verging on grey, and his lips were pressed together into a thin, pale line. Biggles, holding his wrist lightly in one hand while he worked on the embedded glass fragments in von Stalhein's blood-covered hand, could feel that he was rigid and trembling slightly with the effort of holding still. But despite the obvious brutal self-control that he was throwing into keeping himself still and silent, he still flinched as they picked out the glass and gravel and dabbed at the wounds with antiseptic.
"You know, you can scream if it helps," Algy remarked. He had the opposite hand, his head bent over it. Biggles had suggested that he could go back to trying to raise Ginger and Bertie on the radio if he liked, but Algy had only given him a look and got the medical kit instead.
"I am fine," von Stalhein said in a very tight voice which was about as far from fine as anything Biggles had ever heard.
They had nothing in the kit for pain except paracetamol, which they had given him, but it didn't seem to be helping much. Glancing up at von Stalhein's fixed, white face, Biggles was beginning to suspect that it wasn't merely the pain, but also a more deep-rooted and primitive fear. He needed his hands, and beneath the blood, it was difficult to tell how bad the damage was. Biggles knew that words of reassurance meant little at such a time. What von Stalhein needed was a distraction, but Biggles had tried and failed to engage him in conversation, and needed all his attention on what he was doing anyway. Trying to talk to Algy had the same issue.
Something else was needed, he decided, as von Stalhein jerked away from Algy's attempts to use a sterilized penknife to dig a deeply embedded piece of glass out of his palm. The knife slipped and gouged the side of Algy's hand. Algy cursed softly, pulling away to dab at it with a piece of gauze from the medical kit, but didn't say anything about it.
"I apologize," von Stalhein said stiffly. He pulled his hands sharply away from them, leaving streaks of his blood on their hands. "It is not necessary, just wrap them up. We can have this finished at the hospital."
"Yeah," Algy said, head bowed and not looking at von Stalhein as he taped a sticking plaster over the cut on his own hand. "So they can go on festering, get infected, is that what you want?"
"I don't think it's any of your business what I do," von Stalhein began, his voice a whipcrack.
"I have a suggestion," Biggles said hastily, over the top of both of them, before it could erupt into a full-blown fight. "Erich, I think it would be easier if you lie down. It will help you relax, and this will go faster if you don't watch."
"I prefer to see what's happening to me," von Stalhein said stiffly.
"I know you do, but it's causing you to tense in anticipation, and it isn't helping." Biggles laid von Stalhein's bleeding hand down carefully on the formerly clean scarf they had been using as a cushion. "Algy, do you mind working on this end of it, if I help him stay still?"
"Not a problem," Algy said. He took von Stalhein's hand again, with a gentleness that belied his careless tone. "If you can do that—and it's a big if ..."
Von Stalhein opened his mouth.
"Lie down, Erich." Biggles touched his shoulder. There was a moment when von Stalhein resisted, and Biggles would have let him, but then he allowed himself to be guided down to the ground—then went tense all over again when he found his head resting in Biggles's lap.
Biggles laid a hand lightly on his forehead. After a moment, he could feel von Stalhein begin to relax. He could also sense that Algy had about a million things he wasn't saying, but his cousin glanced up, met Biggles's eyes for a moment, and then went back to working on the glass fragments.
"Thank you," Biggles said.
"Oh, it's all part of the job," Algy muttered, applying himself with penknife and tweezers. "Fly an aeroplane, fight a few bandits, doctor our former worst enemy, all in a day's work ...."
He went on in a muttered monologue, as if he'd only been staying quiet earlier for Biggles's sake. Meanwhile, Biggles had begun to run his fingers lightly through von Stalhein's short hair. There was cold sweat beaded along his hairline. Biggles smoothed it away with his fingers.
"Remember back when we were trying to run a charter aviation company and for some reason we thought it was a good idea to take a commission to transport some farmer's cattle up to Perth?" Algy said suddenly. "And one of them stepped on your foot, Biggles, and broke three toes? Just thinking of that for some reason, can't imagine why."
Biggles smiled, as he continued to stroke von Stalhein's hair gently, and could feel the rigid tension in the man's body ebbing very gradually, one gentle stroke at a time. "I seem to remember one of them kicking you into the side of the machine. How were those tailbone bruises? And you had a hot date the next day, I recall."
"Had, Biggles, emphasis on had." Algy turned to drop a glass fragment on the ground and reached for the iodine and gauze.
Biggles continued running his hands through von Stalhein's hair and they chatted about past cases as Algy moved on to the other hand. Von Stalhein had become very relaxed by now, and it had been a while since Biggles had noticed him flinch at all. "Want help?" Biggles asked quietly as Algy got started on the hand Biggles had left half-finished.
"No need to wake sleeping beauty there," Algy said with a crooked smile, and Biggles looked down to discover that without his noticing, and despite the pain, von Stalhein had drifted into a state of total relaxation in his lap.
He wasn't actually asleep. Biggles felt him start to stir, and resumed the slow stroking, while Algy went back to working on his hands. By the time Algy had finished bandaging his other hand, he really did seem to be asleep, his eyes closed and his face turned against Biggles's thigh.