Morning After

Dimitri hadn't slept. He had slept for an hour at the most before he was rudely woken up by being manhandled down the stairs. The panic he felt of not being able to move still held its grasp on him, and the pain in his neck was still insufferable. During the night he had slowly gained the ability to move. His toes had been first for some reason, then he managed to open his eyelids, but even then the panic held its grasp on him.
Finally he had regained most control over his body, and though a bit stiff in his arms and legs he could at least move every limb in his body.
Rolling over to try to sit up, he lifted himself up with his left arm. That's to say, tried to. His arm broke under him, still not strong enough to hold him up and he fell out of the bed and onto the hard, cold floor with a loud noise, dragging the pillow with him.
"Owh.." he managed to let out, sure the sound had woken his cellmate as well.

Kuzco had barely slept at all after the nightly trip to the horror house.
He had woken up to the bitter smell of burning flesh. Scared when he realised when he couldn't open his eyes. And finally terrified when he felt himself being the next one. The pain had been terrible.
Even now he still felt close to vomiting by the pain.
He moved carefully to his side, seeing Dimitri awake. "You too huh?" He groaned, trying to lift his hand to touch the back of his neck. It was still too sore to touch, and he couldn't make out the letters yet either.

His eyes stung with tears. At least his headache was gone, or maybe he just couldn't feel it under the overwhelming new pain. He couldn't understand how the guy (... ehh... K something...) could even bear to touch it, his own hands were going nowhere near that open wound of his.
"I think everyone... I heard a lot of bodies hit the floor," he growled in pain and tiredness, and managed to sit himself up at the foot of the bed, resting his back against it.

"Yeah... I was too busy reciting every possible prayer I knew. I heard no screams so I thought I was gonna die."
He pulled his hand away from the burn mark. "Do you think we entered some death camp or something? This isn't really like a normal prison."

He sighed, he didn't want to think like that, it couldn't be. What was the point in putting them in cells if they were only going to kill them? "No," he said confidently, trying to fool himself as much as his cellmate. "If they were going to kill us, they would have done so. Not bothered with all of this."
He looked up at the cellmate he couldn't remember the name of. "Turn around," he told him. He wished to know what it looked like, and as he obviously couldn't see his own...

True. If the goal was to kill them they surely could have. But then again, maybe the people were so sick they wanted to torture them to death.
He shook that thought out of his mind.
He turned on his other side, making sure his hair was out of the way. "What does it say?"

It was hard to make out with the black, burned edges and the raw wound that had not even begun to heal.
He got up slowly, making his way over to his cellmate, trying to make sure he wouldn't fall again on his way. Now he could get a closer look, but it was still a bit hard. Possible, but hard.
"Y...41...940," he finally managed to make out. "Is that your... prisoner number?!" he asked shocked, before he realize of course it had to be that. What else would they have branded into their necks? Sighing, he realized he would have to live with this brand for the rest of his life, all for such a petty crime.

Kuzco quickly slapped his hand to the back of his neck on instinct, screaming in pain, regretting it immediately.
"Ouch!! Holy crap why they gone and done that?! That is going to be there forever now!"
He sat up. "So they weren't kidding when they said remember your number... " He said rather sad. Yeah, we are going to die here...

"I guess not..." he mumbled. "I already forgot," he smirked. It was smile or cry, and he'd rather not do the latter, specially not with another guy there watching him. He forced himself to calm down, though his anger and fear were suffocating him.
"T something, I don't know.."

Kuzco stood up, looking at his cellmates neck. "T...19..118..." He sat back down on his bed.
"What do you think will happen if one forgets their number?"
He immediately imagined it branded on his forehead, or somewhere else. Why on earth did they put it in the back of the neck if they wanted them to be remembered?

"I guess if we do we just ask our cellmate again," he smiled reassuringly. No need to make him worry more than he already was. T19... ehh... 1? He was already forgetting, but at least he remembered more than he had earlier. He figured that was a good sign. Soon enough he would know it by heart.
"Hey," he said and pointed at the new piece of bread they had gotten. "Want breakfast?" he said and smiled.

"Yeah true..." He said agreeing silently. But what if the guards didn't like them forgetting?
Y...4 something.. 41... and 940. sounds about right. It was easier to divide it in half to remember.
His head shot up when Dimitri spoke to him again. It even surprised him how hungry he was. "Sure." He smiled back, going to the table. He split the bread in half, offering the bigger half to his cellmate.

Outside of this place he might have denied the bigger half, but he was starving, and it didn't look like his cellmate really needed that much food. He tried justifying it being twice the size of his cellmate, but he still felt a bit bad about robbing him of food willingly.
"Thanks," he told him and started nibbling on his bread. It was hard, but it filled his stomach, so he couldn't complain. He'd let his cellmate have the bigger piece next time he decided.
"There's a sink in the bathroom I think, if you want to cool off that burn," he let him know. He knew it was what he should do as well, but he was afraid it would just hurt too much. He guessed he was too much of a wuss. "Shower too," he smiled, he had peaked before his cellmate had arrived the previous day, how could he not have explored? His curiosity had been too much.

He nibbeled on the bread. It was hard and tasted stale, but in small pieces it went down nice.
He never needed much to eat. Maybe that is why he was such a twig, but oh well.
"I think I'll try that later. It's gonna hurt I am sure." He suspected the burn was still too fresh to touch or wash without screaming from pain.

"True, but it might get infected if we don't..." he expressed his concerns. It would only hurt even worse then. He cringed at the mere thought of putting water on it, but he was more afraid of what could happen if he did not.
"I'll hold you down if you do the same for me," he half joked. He knew his cellmate could never manage to hold him down if he tried, but he made a mental note to squirm as little as possible.

Kuzco couldn't help but to laugh. "Sure, sure. Try not to struggle much. I might hurt you with my enourmous guns." He tried showing his muscels.
"Okay, whenever you are ready."

He knew it was rude, but he couldn't help but laugh when his cellmate flexed his "muscles".
He got up and walked into the bathroom, still in awe at how much they had really gotten. He thought in prison you had to shower together with everyone at once. He couldn't begin to describe how relieved he was to have a shower of his own in his cell.
He didn't look behind him to see if his cellmate was following him to the bathroom but there was no reason for him to think that he wouldn't either. Already, he was wincing at the pain to come.

Kuzco took a sip of water. Following after his cellmate.
He had to stop on the doorstep, surprised. "We have a shower?! Wow... And here I thought we were going to have a can and maybe a sink in here."
When he recovered from the shock he went to the shower, taking the shower head in his hand. "You ready?"

Dimitri grinned at his surprise. He had just told him about the shower, but he supposed he thought he was only kidding. Or maybe he was just too in thought over the recent branding that he didn't even hear what Dimitri was saying.
His grin however faded as soon as his cellmate grabbed the showerhead. Sighing heavily he prepared for the pain that was about to come. He tried to comfort himself by thinking that the worst had already passed. Nothing could hurt as much as the branding, and he had survived that much.
He got down on his knees in front of the shower, bending his head forward, to make sure he wouldn't soak the floor while they were at it. "Ready," he said, but he doubted it himself.
He was already clinging tight to the edges of the shower, gritting his teeth in preparation.

Kuzco put the water on, adjusting the temperature to a nice cool one. He ran his hand over Dimitri's neck to wipe the hair away from the way. He moved the water closer slowly, so it gradually came over the burn wound. He let the water run over it for a few seconds before moving it away. "How was that?"

Dimitri was somewhat glad he had gritted his teeth in preparation, or he might have bit his own tounge off in surprise. He was also grateful he wasn't a girl, or he might have broken a nail clinging to the edges of the shower. He had heard that was painful.
"Not too bad," he lied after having calmed down a bit and raised up off the floor.
"Your turn," he smiled reassuringly, though he did feel for the guy who had to go through that too.

He handed the shower head to Dimitri, kneeling down on the floor, bending hiw head.
He used his left hand to hold his hair up. He gritted his theet and closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable.

Dimitri turned on the water once again, letting his hand meet the shooting water, letting whatever hit his hand run down on the man's neck. That way he wouldn't get the waterpressure right on the wound, just the falling water. He hoped that would make it hurt a lot less, but he wouldn't really know.
When he was done he got a small towel and dried around the wound, so the water wouldn't drip down his shirtcollar and make his back wet as well, then he used the towel on himself though he had already soaked the top of his shirt.
"All done," he said reassuringly. Thankfully that was over with.

He stood up, holding the towel over his wound. "Thanks." It had stung quite alot, but not as much as the actual branding.
He looked at the shower head that had been left on the water mixer. He grinned, taking it and aiming a shot of water at Dimitri's back.
Okay, he was acting childish, but so what.

Well, so much for the drying up...
Instinctly he turned around, just about glaring at his cellmate, what the hell was he up to?!
"What the-?!" he started before he saw the showerhead in his hand and the grin on his face. Then confusion took over, but not for long. Before seconds had passed he was laughing himself. He supposed he would have to allow some fun in here, or else where would he get it?
"I'm starting to regret giving you that towel now," he told him with a playful smile on his lips.