Ill-Fated Reunions [Lovino Vargas]

[Feliciano Vargas]

Light green eyes roved over Feliciano, judging him it seemed, the younger mutant resisted the urge to curl in on himself. He wasn't sure what to make of that look; in the past it meant bad things, usually. However, in this new scenery--the years they spent apart--Feliciano could only hope things will change for the better. That their relationship could be more than just fighting. He's had enough of fighting. Given the scars spread across Lovino's skin, the way he curled in on himself, his brother had his fair share of fighting without it erupting in the cells as well.

"...Si. I'm full now," Lovino finally spoke, Feliciano relaxing at the words. It wasn't a lot of food, certainly not, but it made the younger Italian happy to know to hear that he could at least help. He smiled, oblivious to his brother's own discomfort. If it bothered him to offer his food to Lovino, he obviously wouldn't have given it up in the first place. He hasn't upset the guards, so he's getting his usual meal and avoiding the vicious beatings offended guards were prone to giving the weaker mutants. Therefore, he didn't mind giving up his food supply for his brother's health. Feliciano was distracted from his thinking, though, when Lovino continued, obviously upset. "I guess I owe you know," the older Italian murmured, the words falling from his lips like it was a terrible concept. "I'll try to get you something when the idiot guards bring the meals by again... You obviously need to eat."

At first, Feliciano wasn't sure what to say. After all, Lovino needed to eat just as much as Feliciano did. Plus, if Lovino had lost his fight and was going to lose his own meal, how could he coerce extra food from the guards for his brother? (Especially when Feliciano was in arguably worse relations than Lovino) After a moment, though, Feliciano smiled and shook his head. "You don't have to get anything for me, fratello," he replied with a little laugh. "I'm still scheduled to get a meal tomorrow, so I'm not going to go hungry."

Now that Lovino's in his human form, maybe... Maybe he could properly clean his wounds, now. With that in mind, Feliciano pushed himself to his feet, waited a few moments for the spinning in his head to stop, and made his way over to the bed. Rather than sit down, though, he reached over to pick up the damp rag on the mattress. "I'm going to rinse this out real quick, va bene? Then I can...at least wipe the blood off, si?" Feliciano's expression turned hopeful. Maybe helping Lovino clean up and tend to his wounds will help his brother feel more comfortable here. God only knows they need somewhere to feel comfortable in a place like this.

[Lovino Vargas]

He's the meanest little kitty...

Seeing the smile come to his brother's face when he responded made Lovino just turn his gaze away from meeting his brother's honey browns. He refused to look straight into that smile, not doubting that his brother was just as hungry as he was; if not worse. Seeing those bony cheekbones show from his brother's face was more than enough evidence to show his guess wasn't just something pulled out of the sky.

And because he knew it wasn't a wild guess, it was more unsettling hearing Feliciano tell him that he didn't have to give him anything in return for the food he was storing. His ears lowered slowly at the response, and he simply lowered his head, starting to even debate vomitting the food right then and there. At least then, he wouldn't look like shit for letting his brother starve in the corner of this smelly cell, while he filled his own stomach. Scratching his cheek a bit with his index finger, he kept up with the awkward silence that started up in the cell for a short bit, until his brother made the first move again.

Lovino gave an involuntary flinch instinctively hearing Feliciano get back on his feet, and after a small pause, to Lovino's confusion, made his way to the bed he was sitting on. He watched as his brother picked up the rag and slowly his ears raised back up as well to pick up the words he spoke much easier. Hearing he was going to rinse it and wipe the blood off his wounds and skin, he simply nodded slightly, not bothering to respond with words. Only once Feliciano walked away did he open his mouth to speak again, hesitating at first, but quickly getting over it.

"...Do you often get thrown into the arena?" He decided to ask, figuring his brother wouldn't win a battle, so wanting to know if he too was going through the same thing as him, in constantly just getting thrown in like a rag doll for others to tear up. It wasn't like he would be shocked or anything if that was the case, but it was still at least something to talk about, right...?

Word Count: 369

Tags: Feliciano Vargas

Notes: 

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[Feliciano Vargas]

The trip from the "bed" to the sink was obviously fairly short, and once again Feliciano was glad for the lack of distance. Lovino as he remembered him was generally loud and rude; the cat-eared man on his bed was quiet and subdued. Wandering too far might upset his brother, and honestly Feliciano didn't want to move too far away in the first place. As much as his own ears appreciated the lack of shouting, the brunette's heart hurt for his brother. What on earth had happened to his crass, violent Lovino to change him so? Feliciano knew those scars on the older man's hands had something to do with it; they painted a fairly bleak painting.

He refused to dwell too long on those thoughts, for now. He swore to get at least a few answers out of Lovino, but the other mutant needed looking after and some rest, first. For a few moments, only the sound of running water echoed in the cell around them as Feliciano first tested he hadn't broken the sink or damaged the piping with his earlier stunt. Finding everything flowing, collecting, and draining to his satisfaction, the mutant made sure to be thorough with rinsing the washcloth clean. Hopefully he could clean his sheet before the other's blood dried on it. The guards'll probably beat him senseless if they stained...

Amber eyes glanced over his shoulder at Lovino as he awkwardly spoke up, sounding uncomfortable. "...Do you often get thrown into the arena?" Oh, what a question to start with! So much for trying to avoid the serious topics for now, huh? Just as Lovino tried to hide his own scars from view, the younger brunette certainly didn't want to expose his own. They seemed to throb dully beneath his shirt, the fresher welts from a week before moreso than the rest, but he knew that was simple phantom pain brought on by conscious thought of the vibrant injuries. Feliciano's scars were earned by his admittedly minor rebellion against the system; they were painful both physically and mentally, but nothing that brought such shame and hurt as Lovino's, that much he could see. So to bring up his own dark times in the Arena seemed...tacky, almost. Certainly not a topic he wanted to discuss at any length; Lovino's scars were much more important.

With one last decisive wring of dripping cloth (ignoring the sting of ice-cold water against his skin), Feliciano turned back to his brother with a smile upon his face. "Veee, only a couple of times a month, when lots of the others are out on contract," he answered honestly, seemingly unbothered by his brother's question. Shaking a few stray drops of water from his skin, the young man plopped on the bed at the other's side. With a quiet warning, he carefully but confidently ran the damp cloth through drying paths of blood, attempting to clean his brother up a bit. "They can't get fights out of me, so I don't think they take me as much as they could." He's more amused than anything else, even though he hated the Arena fights and generally got whipped near unconscious for his pacifistic ways. Pissing off the guards so much for something so "small", even when it earned him their ire and made life a little more difficult, was amusing. At least right now, it was.

For now, he didn't elaborate further. His focus was better spent on wiping up the blood from Lovino's arms and hands. The injuries there seemed to be clotting just fine; only thin trickles of blood beading up at every gentle pass of steadily-staining cloth. "IF you look like this, I'd hate to see the other guy," he joked, folding over the cloth to a clean patch before lifting his hand to dab at Lovino's face. The joke would hopefully stir up a bit of his brother vivacity. The brunette knew Lovino knew he knew that the shape-shifting mutant hadn't won his fight. The brother he remembered would still brag about clawing his opponent to ribbons; hopefully that part of his brother was still there. Feliciano not-so-fondly remembered just how painfully and how deeply Lovino's claws could sink.

"Don't move, okay? I don't want to accidentally poke you in the eye, ve."

[Lovino Vargas]

He's the meanest little kitty...

The sound of water was enough to make Lovino’s ears twitch in attention, perking up before lowering back down to their relaxed state. Other than that he just blinked slowly in attention of it, before he calmed himself of the small moment of alerted nerves. He blamed the guards for this stupid discomfort with water, always having just been sprayed down on cleaning days. While some of the more privileged mutants got a nice hot shower, baits as himself, and he was sure his brother as well, were simply hosed down along with the cell when the time came.

Keeping an eye on his brother after he asked the first question that came to mind, he watched as the younger Italian glanced over his own shoulder to him and found himself tearing the stare away first. For the short moment of silence he received, he was able to pick up his brother’s discomfort with the topic itself and couldn’t help but to just sigh. His ears easily picked up the noise made when the dripping wet cloth was wringed, making a light smacking noise, and he turned his attention back to him once Feliciano turned back around with a smile. A fucking smile.

Lovino couldn’t stand that smile. His tail tapped at the bed a few times in annoyance; who the hell could smile in a place like this?

"Veee, only a couple of times a month, when lots of the others are out on contract."

Feliciano answered, sounding unbothered, though the pause he received was enough to let Lovino linger on that doubt. He decided to not say anything however, deciding there was no need to create even more tension in this single cell. Well, tension on his end, at least. His eyes simply followed his brother in silence, letting him just sit next to him on bed, curling himself up awkwardly not quite sure himself why he was getting uncomfortable just having the younger Italian come close. He took the quiet warning with a silent nod, wincing once the cold cloth touched his shoulder at first. Lovino gave out a short sharp hiss, his eyes flattening in an instant and tail bristling, but kept still to let his brother clean up the patches of drying blood on his skin.

"They can't get fights out of me, so I don't think they take me as much as they could."

“…”

So his brother either got kicked around by the other mutants, or by the guards themselves. What a weak little… Wincing once more, Lovino couldn’t keep track of his inner voice, simply hissing again each time the cloth rubbed up somewhere sensitive. Sure, he was the one who asked the question to begin with, but he too wasn’t much one who wanted to speak of it himself. So he just let his brother drop it and keep on cleaning him in the awkward silence that followed, until Feliciano joked.

"If you look like this, I'd hate to see the other guy."

“…Don’t bother imagining, he looks good as new anyways.”

Lovino finally spoke back, spitting out his words in annoyance, just as the cloth was folded over and dabbed onto his face. The feline mutant flinched at first, mewing softly as a gasp from the change of where his brother rubbed the quickly warming towel onto. “I couldn’t touch him even once—He used some cheating powers and…” He heard the comment to not move and hissed under his breath in annoyance, raising his own hand to grasp at the cloth Feliciano was using on him, “Ugh… Just give it to me, I can do it myself. You’re making it hurt.”

Word Count: 613

Tags: Feliciano Vargas

Notes: SUPER LATE.

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