Mogeko March 2023

Seaside Dispatches x Sickness: Satanick x Victor

CW:

Satanick announces his presence with a soft knock before walking into Victors small, dark room. He brought in a tray with him, a warm bowl of soup resting atop it sloshing gently. "Crea has been put to bed, and your soup is ready," he says, as he walks over. He places the wooden tray in front of Victor, helping him sit and propping his back up with a pillow. 

His frail demeanor didn't improve as the rich smell from the soup wafted up into his face and Satanick frowned slightly. He lifted the spoon from the tray dipping it into the food and lifting up a small amount. Victor opened his mouth slightly and Satanick took a moment to blow on the liquid before allowing it to slide down his friends throat. 

"Is it getting worse?" he asked.

Victor nodded. "I don't think I'll live much longer," he informed, voice hoarse. 

"If you just, came with me," Satanick reasoned.

"Didn't I already tell you no?" Victor snapped. As his voice left him he coughed violently, body shuddering and spittle flying forward. Satanick rubbed his back slowly, helping steady him as he hacked. 

"You're right, you're right," he mumbled, helping him lean back again as his coughing subsided and getting another spoonful of soup. He watched in distress as his friends brittle frame quivered even with the mere action of breathing. 

As he spoon fed the rest of the bowl to him in silence he drank in his surroundings. How many more times would he sit beside Victor like this? How many more times would the smell of sickness invade his nose? How many more times would he invite himself into the darkness of Victor's room and take care of him? How much time was left? 

He was pulled away from his thoughts as he heard Victor wheeze loudly. Satanick set down the now empty bowl, patting his back gently. As soon as he had calmed, the devil retracted his hand. The longing in his chest ached and screamed at him to whisk the man far away from here and back to Ne-no-Kuni. He stopped his greedy heart, sighing wistfully.

"Are you okay?" Victor asked.

Satanick stood from his seat. "I'm fine," he responds distantly, looking away. "I think I should go for today."

He began to walk away from the bed, not sparing a glance back at Victor. He had reached the old wooden door and twisted the handle before anything else was said. "Wait, before you go Satanick," he called out softly. 

Satanick turned, curiosity spreading through him. "Did you change your mind?" he asked, jumping to his own baseless conclusion.

Victor scowled. "What? no." His curiosity fell and he dejectedly continued to wait. "I need help with something if you don't mind," he said.

"Anything for my friend," he remarked, emotional anguish tightening around his throat at the words slip out of his mouth. 

"It's a tad embarrassing, I feel like I can only trust you with this." Satanick drew in closer, peering at Victor in the dim light that flickered about the room. 

"What can I do?"

Victor sighed audibly, averting his gaze. His cheeks tinged with roses. "I'm to weak to bathe myself," he mumbled quietly. 

Satanick's face brightened visibly, and he grinned. "What was that?" he asked teasingly.

"I need your help... bathing myself," he said quietly and quickly, the last two words flying past his lips in such a quick murmer he almost misheard it. 

"Of course, of course." The devil beamed as he reached down and scooped Victor from his bed, being careful not to hurt his frail body. 

Victor looked away shamefully, keeping himself occupied with the old walls of his home. Satanick took him to the bathroom, flicking the light on. Gently, he set him down on the toilet seat, turning to the bath silently and beginning to run the water. Dedicated to taking care of Victor, he tested the waters several times to make sure it wasn't too hot.