Xbalanque - Afternoon

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Jane and Monet try to get Julio to hold still so they can change his bandages, when they notice something very ...off about him.



The small room that served as the Orphanage's infirmary was clean, and well kept, with only a few beds lining the walls. Julio lay in the one next to the window, resting fitfully. Doña Teresa sat on the other bed, rubbing the beads of her bracelet and watching the boy as he rested, saying nothing.

Jane stood in the doorway, fresh bandages in her hands. "How is he?" she asked Doña Theresa, keeping her voice pitched low so as to not disturb Julio further.

Doña Teresa's hand paused, momentarily, but then she continued, counting them over and over again, her lips moving silently. Her eyes flicked towards Jane before looking back down at Julio.

Julio's face was flushed with fever, and his skin and hair were damp with sweat. His breathing was labored, and he shifted uncomfortably on the bed. The activity was good, better than being pale and bloodless like he'd been that morning. But the fever... Not so good.

"You'll have to add in some extra prayers for me," Jane said, moving past her to Julio's side. "I don't have anyone specific to pray to, and I'm not sure sending them off randomly would be the most helpful. What if the wrong God got them?" Jane chattered on nervously as she rested her palm on Julio's scorching forehead and frowned. he looked better, but...

She moved down to the bandage, slowly starting to peeling it back when he jerked, his arm knocking her backwards. "Monet? Can you help me here?" she called.

Monet knelt down beside Julio. "Hey..." She pressed a hand lightly to his chest, holding him in place and caught his arm in her other hand. "Fucking hold still, mate, okay?" ~Janey, can you do this quick? I think he's going to damage himself if he wriggles too much.~ "Come on, mate," she continued aloud. "I don't want you pulling a Jay on me, okay? I'm still pissed at what he did to my blue shirt. It was an original."

Jane nodded and moved back to the bed. "You really don't want to make her angry," she told him in a coaxing voice. "It's not pretty, and Monet is always supposed to be pretty." She slid back the bandage and dabbed at the thick crust of scabs and pus with a cloth.

Julio jerked sharply and tried to pull away from Monet, but he was held fast. He shook his head violently, seemingly lost in the grip of a fever dream. He muttered something incomprehensible and tried to move again.

"C'mon, Julio. Stay still for us. If you do, I'll." Jane bit her lip and tried to think of a suitable enticement. "I'll tell you the next time I go skinny dipping in the lake or...something..." Her voice trailed off. Julio's chest gleamed wetly in the dim light, marred only by the angry red welts of healing scars.

Monet had had it up to here with Julio. It didn't help that, bent over him like this, she could smell his wound and that special smell teenaged boys got an hour after they'd been washed. He wasn't holding still, she could feel the pain he was in even with her shields up fully and it was just too much. "Julio, if you don't hold still right now, I swear, I'll tear your balls off and make a pair of earrings out of them. I think Nori'd love them, don't you? Now hold still." She lifted one hand and held it threateningly in the air above his crotch, before shifting her grip to his stomach.

Julio shuddered and whimpered. "No quiero, no me-- he--" he shook his head again. He twisted under Monet's arm, arching his back, trying escape ...something. Certainly not Monet. Julio was a smart kid, had he not been delirious from fever he would have taken every word she had said to heart. But now--

He grabbed Monet's arm in a surprisingly strong grip, for one who had lost as much blood as he had the night before. "Please-- consígalo irse.. he's..." Julio gasped. His eyes were open, but he was staring beyond Monet.

And his eyes were the wrong color.

A glance a Julio's weird staring eyes was enough to set Jane's nerves on edge. This is wrong. This is so wrong. She shook her head and backed up. "What is he saying? I don't understand."

Monet shrugged. "I dunno. He's defaulting to Spanish right now and his head's all ..." her eyes unfocused for a moment, as she checked. "He's too damn out of it for me to read. Nate or Jean could, but not me." A horrible thought occurred to her. "What if he's talking about using his powers? Do his eyes change then? Doña Theresa? What's he saying?"

The woman gave no indication that she had heard Monet, she shook her head and muttered under her breath, this time more vehement.

Julio choked and jerked, desperately trying to break Monet's grip, "Please, por favor, please, stop, ayudame por favor," he shook his head violently and made to kick at Jane.

Jane, who had leaned back in to examine the scars, (They shouldn't be so healed. They were so deep!) took the blow to her shoulder and was knocked backwards.

"Dude! That is so not cool. No kicking. Kicking bad!" Monet turned to Jane. "Are you okay?"

Doña Teresa appeared at Monet's elbow, pushing Julio back down. She repeated the same phrase, louder, harsher, shaking him like a mother would a small, disobedient child.

Julio jerked again, before finally gasping out "Lo haré! Stop! Lo haré!" He shuddered briefly, but that seemed to calm him as his breathing slowed and evened out. He relaxed against the bed, utterly exhausted.

Doña Tersa gave a firm nod, patting his cheek fondly. "Chico bueno," she said, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"You're full of fucking shit, lady, with your good boys and cryptic bullshit." Monet had understood that much of the Spanish, at least. "We need to get him a real doctor, not this, this..." She waved a hand at the infirmary. It was basic, and that was being generous. "Maybe not a hospital, because hello, crazy delirious energy projector, but he needs a real doctor. With me, Janey?"

Jane nodded, gingerly rolling her shoulder. "Anything would be better than this," she agreed.

Doña Teresa raised her chin and looked Monet in the eye, then sat back on the bed and looked mildly bemused.

Monet glared at her and attempted to make a grand exit but missed the door slightly, slamming a shoulder into the wall beside it. Pretending it hadn't happened, she kept on walking, assuming Jane would follow her.