Welcome to Gaia! ::

GOD DAMMIT TROX WHY WON'T YOU GET YOURSELF HURT D|

Harrison was most content with going last. That way he could act as a human mattress were Anita to slip and fall. That and the pain in his hand was intensifying as his body reacted to foreign debris infiltrating. He had nothing else to focus on and the cut was beginning to come to the forefront of his mind. It hurt even to look at it let alone put pressure on it- which he did anyway. He stood only half supervising as Pasha's idea came to fruition. The highline idea was definitely sharp of her. He smiled to himself and scratched at his nose while he waited.

He eyed Cruz carefully and licked his lips. Knots? He was mountain qualified and very familiar with a highline system. He watched carefully as the rope was put up before nodding to himself and biting his tongue. It would hold and do the job fine so they needed zero 'hero input' - yeah yeah, Trox, we know, you're trained now shut up and stop being a know it all.

Harrison caught himself picking at the reddened wound once more and shook his hand out. Ignore it, it will go away. Wait for the rope- make sure Anita doesn't fall. He stood, neck stiff and craned back to watch the young woman ascend, hands out more for show than of any use to break her possible fall. It was more mental security than physical.

"Cruz, let me know when she's good!" He called up, nearing the rope. Slowly he wrapped the tail of the rope around his forearm of his good hand before gripping tight. His finger strength in the other one would suit the clime just fine.

After getting the go ahead from Cruz, the aviator slowly began his climb. Cautious for his feet to be in position and caring of his hand gripping roots and rock as he navigated. He clenched his hand too tightly on a branch, feet slipping in the moisture- the smell of water actually motivating him- and gave a loud cuss. Too much pressure on his hand. He scrunched his face, immediately releasing the root and shaking his hand out to try and shake the pain away. No such luck. In fact the lurch from his controlled flail caused his safety glasses to slip off his face and clatter to the bottom of the hill. And then bounced into a ********> He hissed under his breath and groaned, hating the entire world for a moment. He wanted out of this jungle. It was too far to down climb and he didn't want to hold the group up. Another expensive pair of eyepro bites the dust. His shooting glasses no less. Now he was pissed- breathing through his nose in attempts to calm down as he climbed the rest of the hill.

All thoughts of the treacherous hill and the fallen glasses left Melisande's mind as they crested the rise. The waterfall was beautiful, and as instantly comforting as cocoa on a cold day. She cast a hopeful glance at Anita, wondering if the woman shared her affinity for a decent bath. "Do you think...we could explore there? Just for a moment?"

The Muse asked shyly, knowing it was off course, but her body ached and she was sprinkled with dirt and blood and two days of bug spray. She hadn't spotted the glint in the sand...Pasha genuinely thought the waterfall was what she'd seen glittering from so far away. Her eyes followed the others to the line of rocks across the river, and she took one last shot at getting them to the waterfall. It wasn't selfish...it would help morale!

"We could cross at the swimming hole! It looks calmer there!" Absently, she'd begin to comb her fingers through her tangled curls, separating the knots deftly with slender fingers.

"Trox, you could wash your hand..." Pasha finished, having the grace to blush.

Harrison was skeptical as he'd ever been, nibbling his knuckle and observing the falls, head tilting. Definitely not a fan. Serene looking enough but what about leeches, jungle parasites, any more centipedes? Crows? Hell.... even squirrels had climbed up onto his hit list in these past two days. He had to admit the scene was perfect. It reminded him of a default computer background, all serene. He took out his blackberry and turned it on, searching for signal while he photographed the waterfall. There, at least he had a new phone background out of this adventure.

He glanced over and jumped slightly at the Frei now holding his eyepro. That was actually rather unexpected and Harrison didn't know how to react really. If it had been a shirt, no big deal, but Cruz went to get his eyepro. He gently gripped the arm of one of the glasses and bit his bottom lip, inspecting them with a furrowed brow. They were still in tact and he was sure they'd still hold up. He tapped the glasses against the tree he was clinging to for balance to make sure shards didn't go anywhere before slipping them back onto his nose.

"Cruz, thanks. I owe you," He said gripping the Frei's shoulder and chuckled, "Seriously, do you know how useless I'd be without my eyes?"

He tapped the glass for show and furrowed his brow again. Condolences, why was he doing that? Trox gave a huge grin and shoot his head.

"Ah, they work great see? Eyes protected and I still look like a bug. Scratches don't bother me, I've dealt with worse." He followed the Raevan forward and crossed his arms regarding the swimming pool. Using this water to clean his hand? He looked down at it and bit his lip. Parasites in jungle water. He'd have to boil it first which would leave his team waiting on him. It only looked and felt awful because he'd barely tended to it.

"I'm nervous, I don't know what's living in the water--" That sounded wusy and he cringed. He shut his mouth and followed his team across the water without incident, gratefully taking Cruz's offered hand for stability. The bigger they are the harder they fall.

The campsite needed to be marked and he needed to stop being a baby about parasitic water. He groaned and took off his GPS watch, moving over to Cruz. He gave a brief instruction on how to copy down coordinates before handing the watch over.

"The water's moving fast enough, I need to suck it up and wash this thing before it really gets infected. Can you mark down the grid coordinates here? I'll be right over," Trox asked as he removed his haphazard dressing and tossed it into his bag dedicated to trash. Gingerly he zipped the bag shut and set it down at the crossing point. He then moved towards the large swimming hole, kneeling beside it and quickly sticking his hand in. It hurt.

Cruz' discovery made Pasha's heart beat faster the moment he called it out. Her wings fluffed, but she forced herself to stay still and calm. Was it something of Kyou's? Was it...a clue?

As desperate as she was to help the doctor, it would be the wrong thing to do to zip over and take the discovery away from the Frei. Even if it was what she'd seen glinting from the cliffside, he was the one that had spotted it in the sand. She tucked her nervousness and excitement away, and gave the other Raevan a truly warm smile.

"You've got a good eye! Be careful?" Her smile had a certain faith to it, a benefit of the doubt that she had rarely been given. Cruz was smart enough and strong enough to deal with whatever it was, and Anita had raised him well. Even though he was young, Pasha didn't insult him by supervising. Instead, she waited until Trox passed off his GPS and gingerly helped him unwind his dressing. She kept her eyes on the man's face, brows knitting sympathetically at his pain.

"The cold will make it feel better?" Pasha was eager to feel the slight chill of the water herself. The cuts and aches and bites still ate at her, but she could help with this before her bath. The pilot had been so outwardly stoic about his wound that the Sigel hadn't realized how much it pained him.

"I can help you wrap it again." She stuck her own hand in the water, wiggling her fingers to scare away the curious little fishes that came over to investigate. Her little smile was earnest but obscured by curls, head tilted as it was towards the swimming hole as she continued to chase away fishes. "If you'd like."

The pilot was wrapped up in his moment of self care he barely noticed Pasha by him and gave a startled jump. The sigel had a bit more color to her and that made him feel far more comfortable with their trek. He bit his lip and gave a pointed look to her bites.

"I'd give those a good cooling myself. It'll help with the swelling and pain." Harrison murmured and gave her a thankful smile, "And yeah, if you don't mind... h'm a righty."

Harrison was grateful for the help, truth be told. He cringed, pressing on the edges of the cut, checking for discoloration or puss. It was red and itchy. Not the best sign but he wasn't overly concerned. He smiled at Melisande resolutely and let her wrap is bandage. It was his right hand after all and he wasn't so dexterous with his left.

He considered the injuries and blows the team had taken and wouldn't mind a small break himself. This small area a little refuge from the rest of the forest. Hydrate, eat and head out again after. He needed a moment to investigate the map and figure out a good trajectory for their next movements.

"Would anyone be opposed to taking a quick break here? Pasha could give her bites a dip and everyone should hydrate and do a foot check. As much as I'd hate to slow progress..." Trox asked the group at large before bending over the water and splashing some on his face, eye pro sitting atop the brim of his cap. It felt cool and refreshing.

He let his fingertips play in the water as Cruz came to his side. Furrowing his brow as he wrote the coordinates down on his arm. He'd get them onto the map if the rest decided extending their pause would be beneficial. He thanked cruz, taking the GPS watch back and checking the coords himself.

"Perfect. Right on, Cuz, thank you." Then he was shown the identification tags.



That was definitely his name, definitely his social and his blood type. His eyes widened and looked around. Heart rate elevating. His dog tags were locked in a case with his ribbons and purple heart. What the flying ********>. He bit his lip and stood from the water.

"What the ********... are these doing out here." He gripped them in his fist, the metal edges digging into his palm. "This isn't even funny."

There was a reason these tags were locked away in the bottom of his gorilla box in the basement. With them came very uncomfortable memories. The smell of Jet A, burning trash, and the sun baking asphalt and sand. Iron- a lot of iron, his co-pilot draining next to him and screams coming from behind his crew chief's seat. He took deep breaths, feeling the panic attack rolling in. No- nope he was done with these. He looked around hastily, grounding himself, worrying the tags in his hand before he gently pressed a thumb into his recently wrapped wound, pain seeping him to the present. Jungle not desert, everyone around him alive and for the most part not bleeding. Everyone except the Raevans had all of their appendages. He was here and he was alive.

"Sorry," Harrison was visibly pale, sweat beading on his forehead and he wanted to puke. He had to calm down and act normal, "Hey Cruz, where'd y'find these? Kin y'show me exactly where?"

The dog tags glinted in a familiar way as they slid from Cruz's hand to Troxel's. This was what she'd seen from the air! Pasha lowered her eyes for a moment, unable to avoid a brief wave of disappointment. It wasn't a clue after all. Kyou was still out there, still lost...

When she raised her eyes again, Trox was pale and sweating, fist clenched around the tags. The Frei looked uncomfortable as well. She drew back, feeling the tension in the air. "I think a break is a good idea." Pasha agreed, and met Anita's eyes for a moment. It seemed like the two men needed a moment to talk.

As the Sigel made her way around the side of the swimming hole, her fingers worked at the buckle of her utility belt. It had worn into position, making a dent in the soft leather that would surely show when Vi wore it. She'd borrowed it from Viola...perhaps someone had borrowed Harrison's tags? Melisande cast a look back over her shoulder at the man and the Frei as she unwound the bandages on her hand. She could no longer hear them over the roar of the waterfall, and she didn't think her conjecture would be helpful at this point. After all, why would someone borrow them?

She set her belt on a slanted rock, and shrugged out of her bolero. The cuffs were dirty and it smelled like bug spray, but washing it meant risking having to put it back on wet. Pasha peeled off the top of her two tank tops as well, and added it to the pile. The ring she wore on a chain around her neck was exposed for a moment, and the Sigel closed her hand around it warmly before tucking it in to the last layer of clothes that she kept on.

She drifted out over the water, taking a look down into the turbulent depths for any sign of the creatures Trox had been worried about earlier. The water was clear, and looked more than inviting. The Muse tentatively reached a hand out and tested the temperature of the side of the actual falls...perfect. Melisande stretched her wings out and back in the cupid position she'd practiced, so they wouldn't get wet, drifted forward into the spray.

The water felt wonderful. Her curls pulled straight as the waterfall rained down upon her, and she tilted her face back to feel the it stream around her neck and flow down her back. The drumming droplets made her hand itch, but the Sigel ignored it, pretending that the swollen bite didn't even exist. She just wanted one moment...one moment where Kyou wasn't lost, where she wasn't injured, where the jungle wasn't frightening and dangerous...

...and where her party members weren't hiding things.

Harrison saw himself as a strong man. He wasn’t, once you dug further, but he believed so long as his façade was strong he could appear as a strong man. Right now that façade was crumbling the longer he held the tags. The bent edges dug into his palm as he looked at the ground, there was nothing there. Nothing. It took only a second for the tall man to have dropped to his knees and claw at the dirt, digging, trying to find something while the dog tags rested by his knees. He rested his palms on the warm sand and furrowed his brow as he gazed around. His breathing was short, his pallor was stark and becoming ashen and the bile was rising up his throat. The wave of nausea and dizziness subsided- the tags were out of his hands- but Harrison couldn’t possibly make that jump. He snatched the tags back up, looping them on his belt and sliding the actual tags in his pocket. It was a familiar preflight motion.

And that’s where he was, back in the cockpit, a finger grazing over the beaded chain on his belt before sliding in place on the cyclic control. Fear clung to his diaphragm. It was like being stuck in his head all over again, and they told him he’d be okay, that this shouldn’t happen, but everything was so vivid. He choked down the bile in the back of his throat and was back in the jungle. His eyes were glazed and tired as he glanced over at Cruz. He looked panicked about something- the Frei was saying something panicked at him and he needed Troxel’s help but Harrison couldn’t hear him over the sound of the pulsing rotor wash in his memory. The systems were failing and they were crashing. God help them.

He looked back down at the sand and suddenly he was back in that cockpit. Stuck against the seat restraints and there was pain. So much pain coming from his back, spearing up his spine and the lacerations made his flight suit stick to him. The source, he has learned, were the three crushed vertebrae from the crash. Mike Delaney next to him was screaming on the comms, slowly quieting and draining. Trox’s cheek, from where the visor ended down, was warm, sticky and reeked of iron. Delaney, he remembered, was struck right through the chest. It was an arterial wound. Cries from the back were barely heard after Harrison shouted out in pain, completing the shutdown post crash. Everything started to sear in pain but the rotors where finally beginning to slow down. Don’t move, don’t leave the aircraft unless we’re sinking or there’s fire. He couldn’t open his eyes; instead he listened to the sounds of his flight medic crying out. His leg was trapped and it was numb simultaneously with pain, soul-crushing pain. They’d taken off with 8 souls on board and Harrison could only hear SGT Moore, screaming in the back. 2 souls trapped in this broken framework of metal. He needed to help. But he couldn’t move, so he screamed, turning the pain in his back unbearable as he struggled with the restraints, he had to get Moore something. Had to help him.

To those not trapped in Harrison’s nightmare, the emotions played over his face but it was silent. He sat staring at the sand; fingers twitching minutely as he mentally shut the machine down and struggled. Pain seeped over his face as he took a mental list of his injuries. Then his worlds began to blend together. His mouth would be slackened and voice quiet as he ran over what just happened in his mind. Somehow I’m alive, ********, why does it hurt, why can’t I move? Then Cruz suddenly was cast into the part of Moore in Harrison’s sick brain’s rendition of his greatest nightmare. Tears were streaming down the pilot’s face as he bridged the two worlds. He kept shaking his head and finally responded to Cruz’s plea.

Harrison moved to his knees and his nightmare broke away a little. He was still stuck, and everything started to fold into each other. The desert ate the jungle and the jungle infiltrated his broken cockpit. He scrunched his face and his hands worked deftly over the Frei, massaging and pulling.

“S’okay, Moore, stay with me. H’kin help this time.” Harrison mumbled and stopped. The glow of Cruz’s rune stopped him. Moore was definitely human and had no business in the jungle. There was a rush and the smell of blood, sweat and fuel was sucked away into a void somewhere behind Harrison. He looked down at the arm in his hand and slowly came back to reality.

“Sorry. Cruz…” Harrison corrected himself. He was oddly calm given that he was silently screaming not moments before. He worked over the muscle and placed it at the correct level to receive its fair share of blood. “It’s okay, Cruz. It happens. Just breathe, okay? Breathe and focus on y’ear? Kin y’do that?”

Harrison then took Cruz’s hand, palm up, and tested the reflexes of the fingers to tapping. His face was slightly contorted and ashen as he worked. He needed to be alone; he needed to work through what just happened and separate reality and nightmares into their respective boxes. He had no recollection of what he had physically done while he was kneeling on the jungle floor and that terrified him. Maybe they should just keep moving.