Isolde finally gets her bandages and stitches removed, leaving her hand, well, incomplete. Van offers his support.
Related Scenes: None
Scene Number: 374
It has been three long weeks since Isolde went from ten fingers to nine. The bandage has almost served as a distraction from the reality of her situation -- like once the bandages come off, she'll have all ten fingers back. But that's not the way it's panning out. She stands in the head having been to sickbay to get her bandages removed and her stitches clipped. She runs water over her hands, washing away the residue of the cleaning agent they had put over her hand. The gap between her middle finger and pinkie feels almost vast, and she rubs along the base of the stump, feeling the knot of her knuckle before it tapers into nothingness.
Van was waiting for Isolde to return from sickbay, and after a short while, went looking for her. Pushing open the door to the head, he scans about, then starts to duck out again. When her presence at the sinks registers, he pushes the door the rest of the way open and steps in, wearing his blues. Moving over to stand behind his wife... and it still shocks him to think of her in those terms... he offers up a smile in the mirror, lifting his hands to rest them on her shoulders in silent-for-now comfort.
"Doesn't really look like my hand, does it?" Isolde's voice is small, but thoughtful. She holds it up a bit, fingers spread out despite the small twang of pain at the gesture. Then she closes up her hand, drawing those four fingers together into a small fist. She shakes her head, and offers him her own smile through the mirror's reflection. "I'm okay," she reassures him. "Just... kinda real now, huh?"
"It looks like four-fifths of your hand, Love." Van's fingers tighten gently on her shoulders, then slip around them to enfold her in a gentle embrace, "It is. Picon made the war more real than it had been before for both of us, didn't it?"
"Cm'on... I've got more than four-fifths there... let's call it nine-tenths." Isolde casts him a small smile before she turns slightly into him, slipping into the embrace with her forehead pressed into his shoulder. "Yeah," she murmurs. "Though I think Triton still beats my initial experience... hidden away on Scorpia, building ships." She lifts her eyes to his, closely examining his paler eyes. Then she breathes out a sigh and looks down at her hand again. "I don't know where to put the ring when we actually get it..."
Van nods at her smiling words, granting her the correction. "Yes, things got very real at Triton, you're right. But since then, there had been a little divorce from the reality of the war." The question causes him to frown in thought, "I was sort of assuming you'd just put it on your right hand," his hand slips down to collect her right hand, studying that ring finger, "But I don't know, I suppose you'll wear it wherever you want to. Maybe the middle finger of your other hand?"
The Tauron watches him examine her other hand, and then she tilts her head back up to his own studying eyes. "Maybe... I'll have to think about it." She hesitates. "Maybe I'll wear the ring around my neck anyway... I've heard horror stories of people who wore rings into combat. All I need is to lose another finger... I don't think Stirling will let me fly with only eight fingers." She then collects both hands with hers and she squeezes his fingers. "Got some pretty hardcore PT to go through now... I keep ghosting keystrokes and need to retrain my brain for some things. Amazing how much you actually need a full set of fingers."
Van spreads out his own right hand at her comment about horror stories, showing off the class ring there, "Yes. I've heard most of those too, I think," a faint smile touches his lips, "That's why I take it off and put it in a pocket before I go into action." Lacing his fingers with hers (no matter how imbalanced the lace may be now), he returns the squeeze, "I can't imagine. Although if you want to strap my ring finger to my middle finger and watch me flail around when you're in need of a morale boost, just let me know."
Isolde looks amused by all this, and she smiles ruefully at her husband. "Alright, I'll keep that in mind." Then she steps closer toward him, and she draws his arms open so she can settle in against him, wrapping her arms around his middle. She steps up closer still until she can tilt her lips up to meet his, offering a simmer kiss. Her fingers tighten around his back as she draws herself into that kiss.
Van obligingly spreads his arms when she does, loosing her hands to curl around her shoulders. The kiss draws a smile to his lips, even as he sinks into it, tilting his head to welcome the slow, heated connection. One hand slips loose from around her shoulders, slipping under her arm to smooth his hand down over her sacrum. Straightening his head up again, he chuckles faintly, murmuring, "Do you think there's a special dispensation for married couples making out in the head?"
"Uh huh," Isolde murmurs with grin. She starts to backward walk him with her until she turns sideways and then starts to haul herself up onto the edge of the counter. This brings her up to him more easily. "I actually think that we could just close off the head and no one would be the wiser." She's definitely joking of course, and she laughs lightly in the wake of her words. "Though... we could just go back to the bunks. Might be empty enough..."
Van shuffle-walks quite willingly after her, his hands dropping to her hips to help her up onto the counter as he steps close between her knees, "You think so? The Dauntless may be larger than the Vanguard was, but I still think they might miss a head." Dropping his head as he speaks, he nuzzles a kiss into the join of her neck and shoulder, then adds in a murmur, "I think the bunks are a better idea. Much better. Then we just have to decide if we care if they're empty or not."
Isolde giggles softly as he buries in gently against her neck. "Okay, probably so... can't take over the head." Then she begins to kiss at his jaw and ear, nestling against his head as she whispers. "I really don't care... but I'm pretty sure it's gonna be kinda empty if we go now." She winks at him then before she starts to slide off the counter just as easily as she slipped up onto it. She casts another glance at her hand before she slides it to clasp with his.
"No..." his lips tickle at the skin of her neck, "...we probably can't." The kiss at his near causes a quiet noise of pleasure from Van and he reaches down to goose her flank. Still, when she starts to move, he straightens up, gracing her ear once more with a quick press of his lips. Then he's stepping back and offering up his hand to hers. "Do you think we'll get a chance maybe on Caprica to get a few hours in Cap City to go ring shopping for me? Once I get this mail out, I'm sure that Mother and my father will send great-grandmother's ring for you, although we'll undoubtedly have to get it resized."
"Maybe," Isolde says softly. "Depends on how fast we gotta get out." She then squeezes his hand and she starts to laugh. "You never know. Dad might send you a ring to wear." She smiles at him before she squeezes his hand and then moves along with him toward the exit to the head. "After all, there might be a family heirloom there to pass along." Then she wrinkles her nose. "Guess I'll have to make a decision by then," she says, a bit woefully.
Van laughs lightly at the counter, nodding his acceptance, "You're right. I shouldn't assume that men's rings haven't been passed down in your family." Arching a brow, he inquires, "Do you think that there is one to pass along?" He trails through the halls alongside Isolde, moving a little quickly as he goes, "You can always wait until you have the ring and see where it fits best, or where you think it would look best."
"I don't actually know, but my dad is usually full of surprises... usually at the guidance of my mother." Isolde laughs lightly as she guides them back toward the berthings. "I guess I can wait then... will let me stop worrying about it." She steps in closer to him, nestling her head against his shoulder as she does. She swings their linked hands slightly.
Van nods, "Yes, I think checking would be a good thing. As would putting off worrying." He opens the door to the berthings and glances around quickly, a grin flashing onto his lips, "Pretty quiet..." Turning his head toward hers, he whispers, "So, Mrs. Asa-Newton... your place or mine?"
Isolde starts to grin as they peek into the berthings, and she narrows her eyes suspiciously around. Then she grabs Van's hand and starts to haul him toward the ladder. "Mine," she proclaims quite clearly.
Van nods his grinning agreement, hurrying after her and already starting to loose his jacket. He slows at the ladder, getting his jacket off and leaving his shoes behind before he clambers up, close enough behind her to press a connection from his waist to his throat, along her rear, back, and shoulders, his arms reaching past hers to fight at the rungs as laughter bubbles up in his throat.