[ The phones.... don't work anymore? An electrical problem, maybe? He's noticed lights in some of the windows of other cabins, but hasn't yet realised that they would be from candles, or oil lamps.
But there are phones here. Perhaps he can take a look at them; he's skilled in such things, knows the inner workings of most technology. If he can just get to one..... Never mind that he's likely about to pass out.
Konstantin doesn't offer any resistance to being coaxed upwards, although the process might not be easy for poor Kieren; he's a tall and heavy man, well-muscled, stature sturdy. He at least tries to help him a little, tensing before he gives a sharp hiss of pain upon shrugging one shoulder upwards, and then the other — trying to help himself sit up. His eyes loll a bit, half-lidded as he tries to keep his head lifted, looking up at the younger man. Inside.... Yes, he needs to get inside. Out of this cold, closer to the phone he means to take a look at... but he's mostly going to have to help himself do it. There's no way this willowy youth can lug him inwards without help. ]
I'll help. I can move. [ He nods, weakly, but he slowly pushes his palms against the snow beneath him, starts willing his exhausted body upwards. It's difficult, but he forces himself even as he's groaning in pain, grabbing onto the nearby porch railing and wrapping one arm around it as he gets himself to his feet. He's leaning forwards then with a wave of nausea, his other hand finding the boy's arm, holding on. ]
I'm sorry for this. I've been— I've been hurt. Someone hurt me.
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But there are phones here. Perhaps he can take a look at them; he's skilled in such things, knows the inner workings of most technology. If he can just get to one..... Never mind that he's likely about to pass out.
Konstantin doesn't offer any resistance to being coaxed upwards, although the process might not be easy for poor Kieren; he's a tall and heavy man, well-muscled, stature sturdy. He at least tries to help him a little, tensing before he gives a sharp hiss of pain upon shrugging one shoulder upwards, and then the other — trying to help himself sit up. His eyes loll a bit, half-lidded as he tries to keep his head lifted, looking up at the younger man. Inside.... Yes, he needs to get inside. Out of this cold, closer to the phone he means to take a look at... but he's mostly going to have to help himself do it. There's no way this willowy youth can lug him inwards without help. ]
I'll help. I can move. [ He nods, weakly, but he slowly pushes his palms against the snow beneath him, starts willing his exhausted body upwards. It's difficult, but he forces himself even as he's groaning in pain, grabbing onto the nearby porch railing and wrapping one arm around it as he gets himself to his feet. He's leaning forwards then with a wave of nausea, his other hand finding the boy's arm, holding on. ]
I'm sorry for this. I've been— I've been hurt. Someone hurt me.