vatheon | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who: Sufferer and whoever wants to ~~mob~~ join him
When: September 24th, early afternoon
Where: in the Plaza to start
Style: whatever you like!
Status: totally open

In the beginning, there was pain.

The arrow that pierced his side was not the least of it, but only the last. By the time its barbed head sank into his flesh and hit something deep inside, sending a torrent of cherry blood spilling over his hip and down his leg, blood that looked almost black in the bright light of Derse, it was almost an annoyance and nothing more. Hardly a little pang, after the constant burning on his wrists, and the way the flesh crackled and turned black under the heavy irons. He had lost feeling in his hands long ago, the nerves dying under hot brands and his fingers curling inward towards his palms, and the hot blood that ran down his arms felt almost cool by comparison.

And then, after his blood--his cursed, mutant blood--gushed away from his body and left a sticky, clotted pool under his feet... then, there was nothing.

No neverending light, no peace, no absolution. Just darkness, and emptiness, and a million years crying soundlessly into the void.

And then there was a jolt, and a return of the pain, and he was lying face first on cobblestones, soaked through, and this was all very familiar.

Sufferer looks up, his hair soaked and falling in his eyes, his bare back exposed to the air and still slowly running with blood. His eyes blur, and refocus, and he's next to the fountain, in the Plaza. Vatheon. He's back in Vatheon.

Struggling, he tries to push himself to his knees, but he's hindered by the arrow protruding from his side, its shaft slick with blood and its blue (b100) feathers tacky and standing up like little brushes. His hands are useless; blackened, melted things on the ends of his wrists, and the chains he wore when he died, his shackles... they're still there, turned a cold, sullen black instead of pulsing red, and it's hard to tell where the chains end and his wrists begin.

His mind whirls, remembering Vatheon, images coming to him in fractured, fragmented half-memories--Karkat, growling crabbily after getting a hug... Dualscar's fins, moving under his fingertips... Sola, asking questions with that plaintive look on his face... Zelda... Johnny... Jacob... Dave... Disciple... Spider... Psii...

Psii.

He tries again to get to his feet, but his wounds and the chains on his wrists are too much, and he topples forward again, groaning as the arrow digs deeper into his side. He's worthless, useless, he led them all down the wrong path, everything he told them was wrong, he's a failure, he's failed them all...

Sufferer looks up at the bubble's dome, his eyes so bloodshot they're red almost all the way through, and his jaw works, his teeth grinding together and the tendons in his forearms standing out as he tries to clench his hands into fists. His voice is raspy, his throat raw and choked from the last time he spoke, centuries and seconds before.

He throws his head back and screams at the bubble's dome. "FUUUUUUUUCK!"

His voice ripples and echoes back to him, distorted, animalistic, the cry of a brute instead of a savior. Slowly, he bends back over his chained wrists, resting his forehead on the irons, and the red that stains the cold steel is not blood this time.

"...fuck."

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"That was then, this is now, and this is not Alternia!" Growling in frustration, he tries to position his arms around him so that the thrashing will be kept to a minimum. Aggravating his wounds will just make things worse.

Ideally, he would prefer to take him to his hive and take care of him there, but he has a feeling he doesn't have that much time. So instead, Darkleer storms into the nearest restaurant and issues a loud, firm order. "Everyone, out." As some of the customers begin to scatter, Darkleer snaps at one of the servers, "Put some tables together! I need to lay him down." With that hastily done, he lays the injured troll down as gently as he can manage.

"Stay still. I need to take the arrow out, and remove those binds."

Too bad Sufferer didn't stop squirming, and just ended up aggravating his wounds further. When Darkleer finally puts him down, the stress and blood loss overcomes him, his eyes roll back in his head, and he passes out.

It seems the gods that aren't listening can be merciful after all.

Fool. At least it makes things easier, at any rate. Pulling on some clean gloves, Darkleer deploys his medical supplies on another nearby table. He can't just pull the arrow out, that will do more damage. He's going to have to be careful with this.

As he begins to work, he also pulls out his SFC. There are some individuals he needs to contact.

Dualscar had his conversation with Darkleer while running towards the plaza, but when Darkleer told him where he would be, he diverts his route and arrives not long afterwards, at a run.

He bursts through the door and pauses as the scent of blood and burned flesh hits him, his fins rising and his teeth baring. He still pities Signless, so much, that the response is visceral. There's no question what's happened, what happened to Signless while he was away, and no shock on his features, only rage.

"Wwhy is he so bad?" he demands, striding towards Darkleer commandingly. He might not be wearing his armour or cape, just a soft black shirt with his symbol stitched in purple on the breast, but he's in charge, damnit. "Wwhy didn't they fix him wwhen he wwas brought here?"

With the locals still hanging back and watching, Dualscar might strike an impressive figure. But to Darkleer, that sort of presence just earns an aggravated glare before he finally pulls out the arrow as smoothly as he can. Still glistening red, he dismisses it to his sylladex. Just when he thought he would be rid of its presence there, too...

"You seem to forget," he says icily as he redirects his attention to Signless' injuries, "that while our captors may not be overtly cruel in most cases, they are not particularly kind either." Considering the arrow wound is what originally killed him, Darkleer is doing his best to clean everything, make sure everything is as well as he can possibly make it, before he bandages it up to stop the bleeding. He's lost enough blood as it is.

The scene isn't something he's particularly happy to see despite Signless being back. Which is good- but. The Sufferer is a different person, a jaded person that has felt failure and Summoner knows very well that this arrival may be very difficult for a lot of people.

So, he's gotta help diffuse that. Perhaps seeing orange will calm Sufferer when he finally wakes up. It looks at though he had been freshly slain so highbloods may unsettle him, despite his patient and peaceful leanings. Either way, Summoner's gonna do his best to not make this worse and to be something to help balance this entire situation as a whole.

"Hey-" Said distantly as he swoops down a few steps away, trying not to stare too much at Sufferer as he stands nearby. His eyes drift to Dualscar for a moment before he's looking to Darkleer, expression calm but serious.

"Guessing you uh, already figured it out, but let's bring him somewhere-" glances around, "Not.... here. We'll talk there, for now his physical well being is our main concern, all right boys?"

Dualscar meets the glare with a superior expression of his own, not backing down for a moment. He's happy that Signless is unconscious, and watches closely as Darkleer removes the arrow that the blueblood himself put there in another lifetime.

"I wwasn't in this kind of a mess either a the times I revvivved," he growls, smoothing dark, matted curls back from Signless' forehead. He's resisting making a noise, his throat working, but only a little sound escaping in soft gasps. He doesn't want to fall apart in front of Darkleer, and he's gathering together every inch of his highblood poise to stop from keening like a wiggler.

Somehow, this is worse than simply losing him. He may have lost him forever, yet he's right here to be touched and seen. Will he reach for Signless and be rejected, this time? All those times he told Signless about his crimes and was forgiven - but now would Signless spurn him for them?

No, he can't think that.

Summoner arrives and he barely turns to look at him, continuing to stroke Signless' forehead and frown down at him with an expression that would probably terrify the mutantblood to see if he were conscious.

"Is he safe to be movved? I wwon't havve him die again only to repeat this nonsense in a wweek!"

"If I may say so- be quiet." Another aggravated glare. He is trying to work here. Signless or Sufferer, this troll's mental well-being isn't his department. He's here to fix what he himself helped wrought a very long time ago on a physical plane. At least, it was a very long time ago for him. Swiftly and efficiently, he begins to wrap a bandage around the wound after moving aside those ridiculous leggings.

"With the killing wound taken care of, we can move him a short distance. There are still plenty of other injuries, so let's not make a production out of it." Putting all his things away, Darkleer reaches again for Sufferer. For the second time, he takes him into his arms and looks to the other two. "Where, then?"

"The closest place where we can get some privacy," a sigh, glancing to either of them then to Sufferer.

"Things are gonna be fine, he'll make it." It's not really his physical being he's worried about though. As for where, he'd say Dualscar's place first but he doesn't think Sufferer will take lightly to being a highblood's dwelling. And Disciple's not here right now so her place is out... He'd say his hive but it's a bit far away-

"Shit, bit of a problem. Closest places are where you guys hull up but uh-" Looks to Sufferer. "Don' think that's gonna fly for him just yet, you know?"

"My hivve," Dualscar says insistently, shooting a glare at Summoner. He will not be quiet, and he rumbles a growl at Darkleer in response to the command. "Wwe'll go to my hivve. It's not far, an he wwon't knoww just by lookin' that it's a fuckin' highblood's place. Anywwhere there's highbloods might be a problem, but I'm not leavvin' him so don't evven try to suggest it, Expatriot!" he snaps, even if Darkleer hasn't made a move to make the suggestion.

"If he remembers me, then he's had good memories of a safe place and that'll be good for him. If not, then any place is strange so it might as wwell be there," he finishes firmly.

...This is stupid.

Darkleer just begins to walk, right out of the restaurant and onto the streets, deciding that they can talk as they stay on the move. Wasting time is just plain foolish. "Until he wakes up and can make any sort of consent, I put my vote into a temporary communal hive that they give for rent. A hotel. It doesn't have to be permanent, but it is better than nothing and I really cannot waste any time on this." It helps that there are hotels fairly close to the plaza, so it isn't as if they will have to go far. Perfectly within the parameters.

"'Sca- Cronus," He starts, looking to him and sighing. Summoner shrugs his shoulders a bit before moving next to him. Rock, be the calm in the storm for a bit and right now Dualscar's the flurry of wind crashing into this situation. He swoops close, trying to snag eye contact, dipping his head down a little and giving a small smile.

"This is great, alright? He's back, he can heal, no longer suffer, we gotta keep in high spirits but-" Moves a hand up and dusts Dualscar's chin with his thumb momentarily.

"You have to put him first. I know having him all cozy up in your hive might be nice for you but purple and blue's gonna give him pain right now, whether it's associated with you or not. Colour's a lot more powerful than we'd like, and with him skittish like a hoofbeast we gotta be careful, okay?" Pulls back, looks to Darkleer.

"Good idea, that'd be for the best, somewhere uh- without leanings I guess? Reminders will help him, but we can't push it, not after what he's gone through. You'll have time to be close later. Right now he'll be thankful for the space." A sigh, looking to Signless for a long thoughtful moment.

"After that we'll see where the wind takes us, but for now we need to take a lot of shit into consideration." A long sigh before he steps away from either of them.

"I'll fly ahead and get a room secured close by," he rattles off the hotel he'll stop by, not a far walk at all, and then opens his wings and leaps up, flying away fast.

Putting others first is not something that Dualscar's very good at. The use of his real name gets his attention, and the little caress holds it, just a bit longer. But his fins are still quivering with upset and all he really wants is to snatch his moirail from Darkleer's arms and run to his hive, submerge them both in his spa and hold him close until Signless gets better, and cull anyone who disturbs them.

"I wwon't leavve him," he says to Summoner's retreating trail, and then looks to Darkleer again. He knows Summoner's right, that seeing Dualscar might only frighten Signless more, especially if he doesn't remember them, but he doesn't know how to not be who he is.

"I'll try not to frighten him, but I wwon't leavve him," he says with more conviction. "He needs me, evven if he doesn't knoww it."

That gentle touch doesn't go unnoticed as Darkleer glances back, and his lips thin before he keeps going until he can spot the nearest hotel. Just keep walking because even when he hates it, he has to keep going on. Even if that means carrying an unconscious martyr who hates him, might have always hated him, could have been lying to his face for all he knows. Even if that means just walking as if that means he could get away from the two other trolls behind him even though they're all going to arrive at the same place. Because one of them is his matesprit, and there's already been so many issues with those two already and... just.

Darkleer bites into his cheek until he feels his teeth puncture through flesh and his mouth starts to fill up with blood. He's done with everything. All he wants to do is clean the Sufferer up, fix what physical wounds he has, and then leave.

He doesn't add to the conversation. What is there to say?

He just keeps walking. It's all he knows how to do.

Dualscar walks beside him, trying not to give in to the urge to hurry Darkleer along. He casts frequent glances at Signless, though each time he looks, he half-expects to see those crimson eyes open and filled with hate.

He tries to prepare himself for that possibility, to think through what he'll do if Signless hates him, to win him back and change his mind. But his mind is blank and seething with fear and rage at those who hurt his moirail, faceless people to hate and plot revenge upon, even though he knows that in truth the ones responsible include the troll walking beside him, and the one living in his own skin.

So he winds up saying nothing also, until they reach the hotel.

There's no time wasted upon entering the hotel. Darkleer simply goes up to the desk, where keys have already been laid for them. Summoner going ahead certainly helps things along.

It's not as if he's asking for much, after all. He just needs space.

Once there, he sets Signless on the bed, he takes out his supplies again before immediately going to the shackles latched tight around his wrists. There's hardly even a flinch at being so close to the scent of burned flesh. He begins to work on getting them off, patient and with steady hands. That's where all of his attention is focused, not the other two trolls. Manacles are easier to understand than people, frankly.

Edited 2012-09-24 22:29 (UTC)

Summoner's in the room already, he shut all the drapes except barely a crack to let some light stream in. He doubts Sufferer will wish for complete darkness when he does wake up. Besides that, Summoner moves to get a glass and fill it with water to hand to Dualscar, figuring the feel of it even if it's just in his mouth and throat might help him.

With that he moves to sit beside Darkleer and just, leans his forehead against the other troll's back, making invisible lines with his fingers at his side. Best to not divide his attention but also let him know that he's still there, Darkleer is there, Summoner sees him there and he can't just fade into the dark like Summoner's pretty damn sure he wants to.

Dualscar, for his part, climbs onto the bed with Signless. He pulls the troll's head into his lap and hugs him there, his fins pressed flat against the sides of his head. He wishes he could hide them, wishes he had a scarf like Eridan, which he would pull up and wrap around, then put shades over his purple eyes, so his face won't be a horror to Signless when he wakes up.

He croons softly, and strokes Signless' hair, looking at his poor burned prongs and remembering that he had once rejoiced when he saw this troll strung up, and hating himself.

For just a second, his hands stutter with their work as he feels that warm presence against his back. There's so much he wishes he could say to him, but now isn't the time. He's not sure when the right time will be. So Darkleer goes back to work. Eventually, the irons are pried off, dismissed into his sylladex alongside that cursed arrow.

Darkleer's nose wrinkles when he sees the exposed skin. "There's no chance of saving them," he informs the others quietly, in case it wasn't so glaringly obvious. "It might be kinder to remove his hands altogether."

"You can't now, wait for him to wake up, just do the best you can with what you got." Hell, Sufferer waking up to have his hands being cut off, no way. That's gotta be up to the guy once he comes to.

His attention is brought to what Dualscar's doing and he wants to stop him for various reasons but- doesn't He doesn't know to what extent Dualscar's and Signless's relationship meant, he just hopes Sufferer doesn't lash out when he comes to.

Dualscar stares at the burned flesh and nods. Though his distress is obvious, he's not squeamish. He's seen such wounds before on corpses, and worse. "You oughta start wworkin' on replacement hands, Darkleer. Really, the sooner you can havve those ready, the better, or he'll feel real helpless wwithout prongs. But gettin' them cut off noww... I don't knoww. Might make things wworse or might make them better. But I can bandage him up wwith Lysunder's help if you wwant to go noww."

He doesn't know if Signless will lash out or not, but he's parked where he is and he's not going anywhere for now. He continues to stroke soothingly with his be-ringed fingers, just hoping that he can cope with whatever happens when he wakes up.

That earns a hard snort. "With burns these severe, you can't just wrap them up and think that is it. If we are not going to simply cut the offending limbs off, then we'll need medication, and we will need to clean this up." The latter which he begins to do. Normally, in a regular burn, you'd remove the dead skin, but in a case like this... Honestly? It seems as if everything is dead.

"He also needs to be constantly hydrated. His body will have been trying to replenish the liquid he lost from the heat."

Between them, Sufferer shifts, his eyes moving erratically behind his eyelids and his jaw twitching as it clenches again. He's beginning to move up through the layers of unconsciousness, rising towards the surface again... and he turns his head into Dualscar's hand, seeking out the soft, soothing touch.

Summoner says nothing, his attention immediately grabbed by the moving Sufferer. He stands, stopped away once, but then doesn't move at all, staying quiet before he finally forces himself to speak.

"Hey you, waking up okay? Take it slow." His voice keeps pretty soft, but not enough that Sufferer wouldn't be able to tell who he is-

Well, if he remembers. Darkleer's led him to believe he doesn't.

Dualscar's fins prick up slightly as Signless moves, nuzzling into his hand. Yes, this is a good sign, isn't it?

He hears Summoner speak and opens his own mouth to add to the soothing words, but then pauses, fins drooping miserably again. If Signless doesn't remember him, then his sea dweller accent might frighten him. But if he does remember, then the voice of his moirail must reassure him. What should he do?

"It's all right, Signless," he says, slowly and carefully, trying to minimize the accent as much as he can without actually changing his voice, avoiding 'v' and 'w' words. "You're safe, noww." Wince.

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edits sneakily????

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Probably leave it open for AyZee after you guys tag it once more? Have him wake up I mean.

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