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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"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.

A slight frown creases Sufferer's face. "Lys--?" he mutters, the word thick and slurred, and then he draws in a great, wracking breath, immediately wincing from the pain of his internal injuries. He tries to draw up into a ball, but doesn't have the strength for it, and then flops loose and open again.

When Dualscar speaks, he turns his head again, towards the sound, like he's listening. But then Dualscar slips and uses a word with a W, and Sufferer freezes, his muscles suddenly going tense and rigid. The tendons in his forearms stand out, like he's trying to make fists, and the burned flesh on his wrists cracks open and bleeds anew.

Oh gosh DARNIT.

There's an unmistakable glare sent Dualscar's way before he just sighs in defeat. He knows, he cannot exactly blame him for wanting to reach out to him. Instead, he focuses on trying to relax Sufferer with his incredible and beautiful bedside manner.

"Stop being foolish, your hands are already ruined disasters as it is," he growls, "and can I please get some water?"

..."Lys?" Wait that- Summoner stares at him for a moment, furrowing his brows. Quickly though, Summoner does as Darkleer asks and brings him water, with that he moves to be near Sufferer, not wanting to get in Dualscar's way, but he was so sure he heard that...

"Heeey there champ, you're looking as fine as ever." A wary smile, brushing a finger near Sufferer's cheek, the warm feel of it might help along with his voice.

"C'mon, who am I? Cat got your tongue?" A chuckle. "Or she will soon, eh? But right now you gotta keep real still."

He can't. He doesn't dare speak again. It'll be even worse if Signless really opens his eyes and looks around, he's sure, but if even the sound of his voice has caused him to tense up like this and bleed, then Dualscar doesn't dare say another word.

So he makes a soft, distressed crooning sound in the back of his throat at the way Darkleer glares at him, his gills opening and closing with a glubbing noise, and continues to stroke Signless' hair soothingly.

When Summoner brings the water, he reaches for it. Maybe if Lysunder speaks to him, takes his focus, Dualscar can at least help Signless drink.

Darkleer's voice definitely gets a reaction, and Sufferer hisses at the sound of it.

But then Summoner speaks again, and Sufferer relaxes, turning his head towards the sound and trying to open his eyes. Unfortunately, between the bright light in the room and the tears of pain that have leaked away, his eyelids are crusted shut, and he can't manage.

He clears his throat with a rough, grinding noise, unintentionally swallowing a mouthful of blood, then rasps out, "Summ?" He coughs--his throat is so dry--and tries again. "Water..."

Darkleer just growls back, ears lowering in aggravation. If he could, he'd force the liquid down his throat himself, but that is obviously not going to happen. He only possesses two hands and they're both working to minimize the damage.

"Lysunder, he is obviously not going to pay either of us any mind, please get him to cooperate."

"Tink, come on now." Looks at Darkleer with a pensive expression before turning his attention back to Sufferer.

"Heeey man, hey, oh yeah, we'll get you that water, heh, just keep with us, all right?" His voice is slightly shaky at first, but barely. He looks to Dualscar, giving a small smile and gestures to the water before moving to slide his thumbs softly over the Sufferer's eyes, trying to help clear out whatever's there.

"You need to listen real close to me, okay? I need to have you understand." Keeps his tone calm even though Sufferer said "Summ". He knows him, he remembers this place. Thank fucking god... It'll take some time to get him calmer around highbloods again, but easier knowing he remembers what had happened when he was here previously.

"Don't you fuckin' dare growwl at him, Expatriot," Dualscar rumbles in a low, menacing tone. "He's got evvery right."

He takes the water and hesitates for a moment, considering. Then he literally grabs the hem of his shirt and dips it in the cup. Gently, he tries to tease Signless' mouth open with his fingers, so he can squeeze the water into his mouth. He saw that in a human movie once. The only other way he could get him to drink would be to make him sit up more, and he's sure that wouldn't be a good idea with the internal injuries.

Gosh, hasn't anyone here ever heard of a straw?

Sufferer tenses up again as the highbloods growl at each other, and flinches when Summoner touches his face to clear his eyes, but then someone is dripping water into his mouth and that takes all his attention. It doesn't take him long to swallow the few meager drops, and he makes a quiet, frustrated sound when there's none left.

Don't come on now him, Summoner! And Dualscar, screw you.

Darkleer is certain to make these thoughts clear, no longer making any noise but baring just a sliver of fang at Dualscar before he keeps working. He'll let them handle the water situation and calming Sufferer down. His job is medical, and nothing more.

"Signless, come on, give me some sign you're hearing me." Continues to focus on Sufferer, trying to get his attention. He needs to rest, yes, but they need to figure out what to do with his hands...

Dualscar gives back as good as he got, lifting a corner of his upper lip to bare shark's teeth, but saying nothing further. He hears the frustration in Signless and grimaces, soaking more of his shirt so he can squeeze more water into his mouth. He hasn't got a straw, and hotels usually don't have them, and jeez give him a break, okay? He's never had to worry about someone dying on him like this.

It takes three more water-soaked shirts before Sufferer wearily tries to open his eyes.

Everything in the room is blurry, filled with big, looming shapes all around him. He squints, trying to force his eyes to focus, and he catches sight of a pair of incredibly long, horizontal horns that could only belong to one troll.

"Summoner," he mutters, before closing his eyes again and turning his face towards Dualscar, hiding it against him.

..So he does remember. Darkleer isn't sure what to say or make of that, so he says nothing at all. He just does a temporary patch up of his hands- something to keep his condition stable- before standing up. "I have to go tell the front desk I need a few different medical supplies if he's staying here," he mutters. "Ask him." Then he's gone, slipping out of the room.

Summoner sends a slightly dark look to Darkleer who just fucking keeps talking. Sufferer may remember, but he's come back with more sweeps between what he knows of this place, and a lot more problems with highblood's, Darkleer in particular.

Also he's not sure Sufferer will be able to comprehend what is being asked right now... but he'll try. He looks back to him and- as softly as he can- uses both his hands to cup either cheek of Sufferer's face to get him facing him.

"All right, good to see we're still as tight as ever, brother. But you need to listen to me." A breath, closing his eyes for a moment as he finds the words.

"Your hands, they uh, they're time has passed you but you're still moving on. But you need to let me know if it's okay to get rid of them. Not much use anymore, hey? Move to bigger and better things. It'll be all right if you w-want them to stay too. Just give me a nod or shake of the head, a-all right?" Smiles, looking at him now.

"Nod if it's cool to exchange them out for new hands, hell, Tavros, 'member the cool little guy? He got whole new legs and I ain't never seen anyone happier." His voice is shaking a little bit, he tries to hide it the best he can but-

This is his hero, his prophet, the light at the peak of his rebellion as well as the spark that started it. And seeing him like this it's, it's really difficult. But he has to be strong for the group of them, whether or not he's got this inner turmoil.

The way Signless buries his face in his thigh like a frightened grub is heartbreaking, but it also makes Dualscar's heart soar at the same time. He recognizes Summoner, which must mean that he knows Dualscar is there, too. If he's seeking comfort in Dualscar's arms, then that means there's real hope for their moirallegiance.

He watches in silence, biting his lip hard as Summoner gently asks the difficult question. He wants to tell Signless that it'll be okay, that his own leg is good, too, and that he'll be just fine with a new set of hands built by Darkleer. It must be terrifying to lose them, but they're already lost.

His fingers continue to comb through Signless' matted hair, restless, his wet shirt cold against his skin.

Sufferer makes a whining noise in the back of his throat, trying weakly to resist Summoner's efforts to turn his face back around. "G'way, Sum'ner, let me sleep," he mutters; whatever he's asking can wait until later, right?

Even as he asks to sleep, though, the pain of his tortured body filters through to him, and he knows he can't. If he sleeps now, he'll just be going back into the darkness that is all that remains--all that ever was--of the neverending light, and this time he might not come back.

So, reluctantly, he forces his eyes open and looks up... directly into Dualscar's face.

In case it wasn't abundantly clear, Darkleer isn't coming back immediately. He wants to make sure the items he gets are perfect, no damage. And, well... There's one other thing.

After a few minutes, Summoner will find a message on his SFC.

D --> How coherent is he?
D --> She is here

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

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Feel free to skip him for a couple of things