#i used my writing to gouge out the deepest of wounds not to heal them but to relive the pain until it numbs me out

[neo-shitty]

✍️.

[wallabrambles]

ok, alright, so i've been struck once more with the desire to write for Ben and the Lady, so i've been farting around doing random scenes as they come to me and i'm having fun. this is like, the roughest sketch version of writing and i'll never claim to be any good at it, so uh. please enjoy just some like. character exploration-y, context-less... stuff.

Ragged gasps wheezed past his lips as he slowly lowered down, back scraping against the rough-hewn wall. Taking the deepest breaths he could, Ben slowly moved his hand away from the wound in his side. The movement was met with a gush of blood and a spike of pain. He gasped and crashed his palm against the torn flesh again to stem the flow. “Well,” he coughed with a pathetic chuckle, “I don’t think that’s gonna heal pretty.” At his left, Lady uncurled, forming herself into soft, wispy tendrils to prod gently at his flesh hand. Ben watched her, and felt her press against the back of his mind. In the state he was in she could have easily forced their connection open, but still her intrusion was minimal, a hesitant knock at the door. With a sigh, he leaned his head back to rest against the cool stone and reached his mind out to open the way for her. You are dying. The bluntness startled him so badly he barked out a laugh that dissolved into a hiss of pain as the muscles in his torso clenched. “Yeah, I guess so,” he said aloud. “Sorry.” There was a long pause. He could feel her awareness swimming at the back of his mind, like a ghost over his shoulder. Whatever emotion she felt, however, she kept private. Perhaps she didn’t feel anything? “Will you be able to hop to whoever finds, ah…” Ben winced, forcing a grin across his face. What else could he do? “Whoever finds my body? Can you live in it until the next person comes? Maybe Alma will find me, I bet she’d be more than happy to let you in. Otto… he might need some convincing…” He was rambling, he knew, barely even registering the babble falling out of his mouth, accompanied by a steady drool of blood. I will fix you. Her declaration was final and firm, knocking the words from his tongue. “You can do that?” He finally said, quietly. Yes. I will take over more of your body. I will fix it. She paused. It will hurt. Ben sat a moment with that, letting the thought sink in. Already she had control of his arm, his flesh along the left side of his body… what harm would a little more do, after all? He gripped his right side where blood still flowed freely, his head beginning to spin. She’d have to spread all the way across. He’d have to give her most of his torso. As he thought, he could still feel her, watching him steadily from an eye near his shoulder, watching him silently through their connection in his mind. Finally, he snorted a disbelieving laugh. “Hell, Cori always says pain means you’re still alive, right?” He sucked in a breath between his teeth. “Alright. Ok. Do it.” There was no hesitation. The Lady’s presence left his mind in a rush, her form resolidifying into his left arm and any control of it wrenched away from him. With it, she tore his right hand away from the wound. Ben hadn’t the energy to protest anyway, even as she lengthened their fingers, sharpened them, and gouged them deep into his side. There wasn’t even air left in his lungs to scream, and the world went black.

This is a foolish thing we are doing He has helped us He is weak We should take him now, all of him This isn’t right He has been kind He wants to help us He is good He is human We should have him We will help him

She opened her eyes. Or perhaps they were his eyes. Her perspective was warped, and she looked around with borrowed sight. With clumsy, stiff motions, she used his arms to push the body upwards, palms sweaty and hot against the cold stone floor, until she sat upright, propped against the wall. Beneath her a pool of blood was cooling, and she looked down at his side. Where once had gaped a terrible wound, her flesh now knitted itself across, small wisps of smoke drifted free of the mottled black skin, ethereal evidence of her magic at work. She had done it. He was fixed. But why… The Lady looked down at her hands-his hands. One black, one pale and sodden with blood. This wasn’t right. Had she made a mistake? Both hands flexed closed, eyes screwing shut. She reached out, shoving her way across her connection with Ben. For a moment she couldn’t feel it, and the creeping thought that she’d taken too much, that she’d subsumed his mind and stolen full possession of his body, clawed at her. But that was impossible. She wouldn’t make an error like that, even if some small fragments of her were much less distressed by the idea than others. Blindly stretching out, she finally felt a flicker, then a presence, warm but faint. The man’s mind was still there, whole and safe, merely resting, tucked away. Something rushed through Ben’s body, and the muscles seemed to unclench across the limbs and neck. Opening his eyes again, Lady looked down once more at his mess of bruised limbs and bloodied clothes. She was used to feeling the effects of the world on his body second-hand, faint echoes of it traveling between the two of them when neither were paying attention. Sometimes, when they held it open enough to speak, she would experience the chill of the wind, or smell the smoke of a campfire. It was bizarre and distracting every time. Scent, taste, hot and cold- so many of these mortal sensations were new, and many of them unpleasant. She moved her hand to his side again, running her fingertips softly over the exposed skin, tracing the area where her flesh and his intermingled in a weblike tangle. Slowly, she breathed through his nose, taking the time to examine the feeling of air filling his lungs. For the first time, she felt his heart beating in his chest. It was strangely comforting. Such a small thing, to keep him alive. I could make it stronger. The idea struck like a lightning bolt. Benjamin Price was devoid of Godsblood, not a drop ran through his veins, but she could change that. She could strengthen his body, make him stronger, suffuse him with her magic, if only she could spread through him just a little more… The flickering of light around the corner snapped her suddenly from the thought. No cries rang out, but a soft trilling whistle bounced off the walls. Ben’s male companion, Lady realized. Pursing his lips, she attempted to whistle back but succeeded only in blowing out wet air. She opened his mouth to call out, managing to croak out a wordless syllable. Flexing his tongue, the Lady was suddenly intensely aware of it resting in his bottom jaw, the presence of his teeth, distractedly grinding them together and noting the copper taste of Ben’s blood still lingering in his throat. This somatic reverie was shattered by hands grabbing Ben’s shoulders. She snapped his eyes forward to stare into the face of Ottavio Neven. Otto place a hand on Ben’s jaw, moving it gently side to side and peering into his eyes. There was a hardness in his gaze that the Lady found odd. Ben was, she knew, oblivious to the gentle looks that Otto favored him with when his back was turned. Even when reprimanding the younger man, Otto’s stern expressions never quite reached his eyes. Now, however, he stared into Ben with a withering gaze, brows low and mouth a taut line. Releasing Ben’s jaw, he sat back on his heels and raised his hands. “Ben?” The Lady opened his mouth again to respond, but only managed, “nah… ba.. beh.” Otto’s face darkened further. “What happened.” The Lady released a long breath through Ben’s nose, frustrated. The words were easily there but the mechanisms of Ben’s mortal mouth were harder to grasp than she’d expected. Looking down again at his hands, she felt Ben’s eyes widen. Of course. “Ben was hurt,” she signed slowly, using her own hand and Ben’s in concert. “I helped him. He is sleeping now.” “Wake him up.” The Lady stared blankly at Otto. “He was hurt. It was very painful. He is resting.” “Show me.” She huffed, chafing at his blunt demands, as though the state of Ben’s body wasn’t completely obvious to anyone with eyes. She gestured at the bloodied and bruised young man she inhabited, then drew the ragged edges of his shirt away from where she sealed the gash on his side. Otto’s dark complexion paled at the sight of Ben’s gnarled wound, sealed and woven with the Lady’s black threads. She watched his face as he took it in, attempting to decipher the barely-perceptible shifts and twitches along his eyes and mouth. Anger, she thinks, but it’s gone as fast as she can name it, replaced by something else. Pain? Sorrow? Then carefully neutral. He released a breath, head bowing nearly to Ben’s chest, closer than he would normally come, by her experience. So close she could smell the faint oils he used for his hair. When he looked back up into Ben’s eyes, studying her behind them, the corner of his mouth twitched up in a smile. “You saved him. Thank you.” She felt Ben’s brows draw down slightly over his eyes, and was suddenly distantly curious about what sorts of expressions she’d been making on his face. “Of course. I live here.” Otto let out a wheeze- of laughter, she assumed- and gave Ben’s shoulder a pat. "Right. Let's get you two out of here."