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Yuri Petrov's Clinical Practices
Feb. 6th, 2017 11:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ideaofjustice(( Takes place during the deaging event. ))
It's been a few days since Yuri was in the hospital. His memories of his stay are worryingly vague, but he knows his burns had been responding well to treatment and the doctors said he'd be free to go in a day or so: "I'm afraid there will be visible scarring, but your vision was miraculously undamaged and we haven't had any complications such as infections. And the scars are sure to fade with time."
A positive prognosis, but that doesn't mean he should be ignoring his injuries as much as he has. He can tell himself that the castle's been keeping him busy- but that's just an excuse.
And so Yuri's set himself up in one of the spare bedrooms, a table shoved to the center of the room in order to serve as a makeshift workspace. He's gathered a few things which now litter the table: A basin of water, cooled down from a boil, a mirror propped up against a box, scissors, fresh bandages, a few medical books from the library left open to the relevant pages... He's about as prepared for this as he's ever going to be.
Yuri reaches for the scissors, slipping his fingers into the handles. Staring at his reflection in the mirror, he slowly raises the scissors towards his face. Closer, closer... his hand begins to tremble, slight at first, but within a moment his hand is shaking so hard that the blades of the scissors are a menacing blur in the corner of his eye.
With a stifled curse, Yuri drops the scissors back onto the table. What is wrong with him?
It's been a few days since Yuri was in the hospital. His memories of his stay are worryingly vague, but he knows his burns had been responding well to treatment and the doctors said he'd be free to go in a day or so: "I'm afraid there will be visible scarring, but your vision was miraculously undamaged and we haven't had any complications such as infections. And the scars are sure to fade with time."
A positive prognosis, but that doesn't mean he should be ignoring his injuries as much as he has. He can tell himself that the castle's been keeping him busy- but that's just an excuse.
And so Yuri's set himself up in one of the spare bedrooms, a table shoved to the center of the room in order to serve as a makeshift workspace. He's gathered a few things which now litter the table: A basin of water, cooled down from a boil, a mirror propped up against a box, scissors, fresh bandages, a few medical books from the library left open to the relevant pages... He's about as prepared for this as he's ever going to be.
Yuri reaches for the scissors, slipping his fingers into the handles. Staring at his reflection in the mirror, he slowly raises the scissors towards his face. Closer, closer... his hand begins to tremble, slight at first, but within a moment his hand is shaking so hard that the blades of the scissors are a menacing blur in the corner of his eye.
With a stifled curse, Yuri drops the scissors back onto the table. What is wrong with him?