logsinthenight | I refuse to learn from my mistakes [Open]

Entry tags:

I refuse to learn from my mistakes [Open]

characters: Fjord and OTA!
location: Downtown shopping center; later the Invincible
date/time: 23rd Feb, spanning the next however long
content: Fjord thought infiltrating some crocodile spirits was a not terrible idea, and must face the repercussions
warnings: Some bodily hjarm, first aid thereon

[ 1. Closed to Soldat ]

It takes Fjord a bit more effort than he would have liked to make it clear of the water-logged bottom floor of the shopping center, and stumble his way out of the building completely and into the night. His lantern is still strapped to his waist, and a leather charm bounces with a tinny little clink with every laboured step he takes; the sound, as well as the bob of the lantern, is extremely irregular, as he clutches tightly to his left side with one hand and limps down the stairs and into Downtown proper.

He looks like shit. His entire everything is still completely soaked through, dripping with water; his breathing is laboured, grunting and wincing and cursing with every stumble as he tries to hold his blood-slick armour tight against his wounds. But there's a mindless determination to his form, nonetheless - where he looks like he's going to keep moving to find help, even if it kills him.

[ 2. The Invincible, OTA ]

After he's been rescued, and fixed up enough that he's not at immediate risk of dying, Fjord can be found at the Invicible again. He's not great about sticking to orders for bedrest, though: he's just as often found in the main living area, nursing some heavy-duty bandaging around his entire torso - which is visible even through his newest acquisitions, a plain grey t-shirt and black tracksuit pants - and also an ale at one of the tables in the corner, where he's propped himself up in a corner to keep his torso straight.

Until he gets banned back to his bedroom in room 203, or retreats there to give himself an actual proper break. The hardest part is making sure he doesn't leave to go on his patrol route; he doesn't like sitting still and doing nothing, and he's gotten used to having Jester and Caduceus around so that injures like this didn't happen.

(Those injuries are going to be a surprise for everyone, as well. He didn't tell anyone he was going to explore the mall.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It sure is a good thing there's a soldier who makes regular patrols, ain't it, Fjord. Soldat has sent Sora back home to the Landmark and is starting the loop back around to the bike shop and eventually the village, feeling pensive and a little big grumpy and looking forward to the silence of the patrol route back home, when they pass the flooded mall.

And stop. Because someone is coming out of it, they can see the lantern light in the gloom that comes after the aurora is gone. And they smell blood.

They break into a run to intercept, only vaguely registering that they know who it is around the edges of "wounded person, must help" as they reach his side. "Stop. Stop. Let me see how bad it is."

Well, they certainly know him, but the accent's all wrong when Fjord talks: a vague and uncultured ~~Port Damalian~~ English, rather than the thicker Southern accent. "It's-- broken ribs, I-I think. One of the-- those gator spirits got me."

It's hard to tell exactly how bad through the leather armour; but Soldat will be able to feel a series of holes in a neatish little line just below Fjord's ribs; he might be able to recognise them as teeth marks.

Edited 2020-02-25 06:59 (UTC)

Why yes, yes they do recognize those as teeth marks. And seeing where he just came from, and how sopping wet he is, Soldat can guess exactly where they came from. They are not amused. The accent doesn't entirely go unnoticed, but it's also not the important part right now. The important part is keeping Fjord's wet clothes from freezing to the wound before they can clean it and pack it shut. A bite on the side is going to be hell to stitch, so lots and lots of pressure bandages are how it's gotta be for now.

Also, keeping Fjord from freezing, himself. Wet clothes. What was the idiot thinking!

"Sit. Now. Armor and shirt off." And once Fjord is sitting (or once Soldat shoves him to his butt on the stairs, if he doesn't sit fast enough), they yank off his squelchy-wet shoes and socks. Not much to do about the pants, they're just going to have to deal.

He tries to sit, but it's hard to bend his torso; Soldat's shove is what takes him down. Something jostles inside him, and he throws his head back, gritting his teeth so the sounds that escapes his throat is just a drawn-out, pained groan.

At least the leather boots come off easily; not as wet as they could be, but there's definitely some liquids inside to coat the way and stain low-cut wool socks. Fjord's hands are soaked, but he's got nails enough to start working clumsily at the buckles of his belt and armour with one hand; the other's still clinging to his side, getting in his own way as he struggles with one shoulder strap in particular. It may be light and fast, but leather armour is still a job for two hands.

Which is why, once Soldat has replaced Fjord's socks and boots with their own warm and dry ones so Fjord doesn't lose any toes, they kneel beside him and finish the job. If the waterlogging and blood means the laces and buckles are too knotted or tight to undo, Soldat will just rip them off. They can fix it later.

Sorry about the ribs, pal, but bloodloss and potential freezing are worse than jostling cracked ribs. And from the sound of his breathing, Fjord doesn't have a punctured lung, so eh. Soldat is not known for their bedside manner (unless you are Misty, anyway).

Okay, let's see that bite wound. How bad are we talking.

Luckily he wasn't in the water long enough for the leather to get anywhere close to waterlogged; he's only soaked, not half-drowned, and managed to loosen the straps even if he couldn't completely take it off by himself. And even when Soldat goes for the armour's buckles Fjord protests weakly, "Be careful, the fucking thing's enchanted..." He doesn't know what would happen if they damage it too much, if it might ruin the magic.

The good news is, the armour did do something to protect against the attack. The downside is, not much. There are still deep toothmarks pocked along his torso, front and back like a gross connect-the-dots and still bleeding rather heavily; his green skin is already bruising viciously, with ugly purple stains around every hole and lighter-but-still-intense discolouration that spreads from his armpit to his hip, and if Soldat tries to touch the raw wound area Fjord flinches away violently.

Edited 2020-02-25 12:15 (UTC)

Yeah, that's mostly bad news, pal. Fjord will not bleed out from the punctures to the skin, but there's not a damn thing Soldat can do about the bruising besides wrap it up tight and hope it heals itself. Maybe haul Fjord back to the Landmark and bring Sora down for a healing spell.

That's probably not a bad idea. Wrapping first, though. They don't touch the wound immediately, just giving it a very nearly angry look that pretty effectively disguises the concern before getting out the various rolls of gauze bandage tucked around their person. "You are a fucking idiot," they say, because they can't let this kind of moronic behavior stand. "You went in there without backup, without supply, without even a fucking towel. Are you trying to die a second time? Did you even tell anyone where you went?"

As they talk, they start wrapping, which is gonna hurt. It's possible the growling is as much to distract from how much that's likely to hurt as because Fjord fucking deserves it.

Fjord just wants to curl up in a ball like he can hide from the pain by doing so, but he forces himself to sit up straight and let Soldat work; but the pressure on his fresh wounds is so bad that very quickly his head is spinning very unpleasantly, and his voice is a bit weak for it.

"No. I-I didn't..." Didn't think, not that the wisdom charm can make him say that. "...didn't realise how poorly... that would turn out. I wasn't... planning on fighting them..."

That's okay, Fjord, Soldat can say it for you. "You didn't think at all, is what you did. Just went chargin' in, thinkin' you're fine on your own, without any prep or support or plan. Christ, when you said you were probably gonna do stupid shit, you were not fuckin' joking, were you." And the more they talk, the less standard-middle-American they sound, and the more Brooklyn. Not that Fjord will recognize the accent as Brooklyn, but-- well, whatever he'd recognize it as, it's different.

At least the wrapping goes quickly. Soldat is practiced at wrapping broken ribs, apparently, though they can't remember why. They tie the bandage off, very uncomfortably snug for Fjord but in a way that will provide support when he has to move again, then pull their coat and top layer of shirt off. They've still got two layers and can borrow the sodden shoes, they're fine. "Put those on so y'don't freeze."

It's a good thing Fjord and Soldat are basically the exact same shape, or the shirts would be a lot more of an issue. And he is starting to gently shiver now - not shock in the slightest, funnily enough, just the cold finally getting to him. And it hurts a lot to breathe, let alone lift his left arm to try and get the shirt on, but with Soldat's furious energy he's not about to not wear them.

He does notice Soldat's accent change as well; but right now continues to not be a great time to point it out, as he moves to stand up. "It'll take a lot more than that to kill me. And I wasn't being--" He grunts as something throbs, and the word 'stupid' gets stuck in his throat. Apparently that's not true enough for his charm. "...I still learned a few things about those spirits."

At least whenever he winces too much, or has trouble lifting that arm, Soldat will help. And they're a lot more gentle about it than one would guess based on the thunderous expression on their face. "You could've learned them with backup and a solid plan," they grouse, "or even a spare set of clothes." And then they duck under Fjord's arm on the side opposite the wound, to help support him. They radiate warmth, even without the extra layers.

The aim is back to the Landmark. The Invincible is too far, at least without some magical healing. They don't look at Fjord, but do help him without actual complaint. Well, complaint about that. "I told you I'd help," they say, voice a little lower, a little less Brooklyn. The worst of the tirade is over. "I see you at the Invincible all the time. Why didn't you ask me."

He appreciates the solid presence under his arm a lot more than he'd openly admit; but he's leaning into Soldat, accepting it fully. Keeping his left arm on his wounds like it's supporting them in any way.

Soldat's words make him grimace lightly. That was all very true, and Fjord does feel a bit guilty about that in retrospect. "It was... spontaneous," he says eventually, voice still thin. "I'd only intended to explore the cleared areas, get a handle on the area. But I heard something splashing around down there, and... I got too curious." A slight grin, tight and self-deprecating. "I'm very good at that."

"I can tell." Each word comes out one at a time, not quite sarcastic but damn close. Soldat seems to think that's enough berating for now, because they say, "There's a kid at the hotel. He's got a heal spell. Don't work as well as it would back home, but it'll keep you from bleeding out inside so we can get you back to Beacon proper. Croc got you good."

Which is probably the first blatant sign that Soldat does in fact know exactly what Fjord was going up against, in there.

Soldat's gonna have to come back for the armor, but who else is going to by by the mall in this cold, anyway?

First Aid Time

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

The Invincible

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject