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 Posted: Sun Nov 15, 2015 12:24 pm
There wasn't time to take her to a hospital to attend her wounds - nor was there inclination, for how well-documented that process would be. Umber teleported to the best location he could muster of memory, as his own apartment housed the needfuls for a field dressing operation.
Upon appearing at the flat, Umber powered down with Xenotime still in arms. He needn't added strength to support her light weight. He went as far as the bar countertop before he laid her on the formica, crossed into the kitchen itself to check one of many jars hidden in a cupboard, and pulled the lone starseed from its midst. He didn't bother to recap the jar or close the cupboard, leaving open to view all the curiosities collected from his past. Once he returned to Xenotime's side, he pressed the starseed to her bruised palm. "Eat it. I'll be back." He departed with no hesitance.
Shale ducked into the bathroom immediately and threw open every closed door he could find. Medicine cabinet, first aid kit, and more were rifled to find the appropriate items. He found little for use with such injuries - mostly he had what was contained in the kit. A surfeit of sterile gauze pads were taken by the handful, coupled with the gauze rolls to secure them, medical tape, and one of the three individually-wrapped syringes added into the kit. With the collection of items bundled into his arm with the addition of a bath towel, Shale started for the kitchen once more.
He wasted no time dumping the allotments onto the counter just above her head. He crossed into the kitchen and turned the faucet on its highest setting, and tested the water with his fingers until it heated to proper temperatures. He set to work washing with dish soap as best he could.
"Take off your shirt, if you can." He hadn't yet raised eyes from the sink.Beejoux backdated to directly following the xeno/thraen/umber fight
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Posted: Sun Nov 15, 2015 4:52 pm
She didn't have breath enough to protest as he picked her up, though she tried, wheezing and coughing too much to get anything coherent out, and even that was given up pretty quickly, more from a lack of air and a spinning head then anything else. Darkness seemed to be eating at her vision at the edges, and her body seemed to have falling into a perplexing mix of feeling heavy as hell, while simultaneously floating. The shift of scenery had her closing her eyes, brows furrowing, as she waited for the world to stop spinning, but didn't, not even when he lay her on the counter top. It made her groan, and she tried to draw her legs up, tried to bring her arms up to press the heels of her palms against her eyes, and didn't quiet manage it. A warm hand caught her's before she'd managed to complete the motion, and the general felt the tell-tale press of the starseed as he closed her fingers around it. It had her looking up at him, trying to read the expression on his face, and like so often in the past, failing as he turned and rushed away from her, deeper into the apartment. Not her apartment, his and Damien's. When he returned the seed was gone. She opened her eyes again as she heard the sound of items falling on the counter beside her head, and it seemed like it took a long time for his voice to reach her, focus wavering, but after a long pause she obeyed, fingertips fumbling at the buttons of the corset before going up to the high neck of the catsuit beneath it. Her skin was stained red, and there were troubling bubbles at the wound itself that seemed to multiply with every labored breath. The adrenaline rush from the battle was beginning to fade, replaced by something altogether new as the metallic taste of iron sat heavy on her tongue, dripping down her throat. She felt weak, utterly vulnerable and helpless. It wasn't something Xenotime, or even Porsha, was accustomed to dealing with. The gravity of the situation was begging to sink in, the reality of just how hurt she was, it brought along with it another new emotion the girl didn't have a whole lot of experience dealing with. Fear.
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Posted: Wed Nov 18, 2015 1:30 am
Shale helped spread the clothing back without a second thought spared to the exposure she endured. Brilliant blood it was, and yet not gushing at an alarming rate - oxygenated blood, but not yet arterial. Shale's years of field aid assisted only for injuries that were survivable for the day, or even for hours enough for him to work within - if she nicked an artery, then there was nothing more he could do but deliver her to a hospital.
"Breathe normally if you can." Shale set to work tearing open antibacterial packets and smearing them in ample quality around the wound. Next came the gauze strips, each taped over the hole with equal gauze packing wrapped around. For every strip of tape needed, he refrained from using his teeth. And for the wound itself, he found no reason to refrain from using every last scrap of supplies if he deemed it necessary. Multiple gauze pads, two gauze rolls and ample medical tape to secure the lot of it went into the preparation for preventing more oxygen from sucking into the hole, as well as preventing further trauma and infection.
It was, he found, far easier to administer first aid with actual materials. He needn't rip into his shirt to attempt a shoddy bandage, or turn to providence to hold her together while they trekked to a hospital. It could've easily been worse.
But the wound did look severe - torn, almost, as if stabbed with enough force to turn a dulled object into a weapon. It was, from what he could tell, not made with any traditional weapon. Xenotime had only metal spikes that could procure punctures, and Shale felt fairly certain that the senshi did not wrestle that from her. Undoubtedly her body would know that scar for years to come, wearing it as warning and war badge.
For the next step, he unwrapped the 3mL luer-lock syringe, stripping the paper to the ground unceremoniously. He spread fingers upon her skin, just beneath the wound, and poised the needle over the top of it. Shale paused only long enough to give her the necessities of the operation. "You've got air trapped between your lungs and ribs. It's collapsing your lungs. I have to make another hole to get the air out." He purposefully dismissed details like the number of lobes in each lung, and how he was uncertain where those lobes were located in her, and how he might end up stabbing through the pleural cavity and into the lung since he didn't know how deep the space was, or even if using the syringe to extract the air would work.
So he pressed the needle into her skin and hoped he wouldn't draw blood when he depressed the plunger.
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Posted: Mon Nov 23, 2015 5:36 pm
Breathing normally was something that was a lot more easily said than done. She tried, at the very least, closing her eyes and trying to count between gasping breaths, but her body and mind were starved for oxygen, and it was all she could do to lay there still and hold onto her panic. Breath in. One, two, three... Rattling breath out. For a moment she managed it, then the cold sting of antiseptic and the pressure of probing fingers tending to the wound. If she'd had the breath for it she'd have cried out, or cursed. As it was she could barely whimper, teeth pressing needle sharp into her lower lip a second later to cease the noise abruptly. She was not that weak. Darkness ate at the edges of her vision, and the more he worked, taping gauze across her chest, the more she wondered if passing out would be better. But should she wake again? Did she even have a choice at this point? Pain kept her anchored, in the present, even if everything felt like it was drifting. The rasping crackle of her chest starting to fade as the desperate breaths pulled began to slow. Not self control this time, but inevitability. She was suffocating, slowly, on her own blood. His voice when he spoke sounded distant. As if he were leagues away, and not standing right beside her. She blinked up at him, pale eyes trying to focus on his face, the feel of his hand against her chest. She could hear him, make out the words, but she was having difficulty putting them together. The sharp stab of the needle was an unexpected one, a crisper pain overlaying across the awful ache. It seemed to bring her back to herself a bit, pushed back the darkness and gave her back her focus. It was the most peculiar sensation. A painfully slow lightening of the awful pressure that had settled in her chest. The general made a grab for one of his arms, small finger groping for something solid to hold onto as she drew in a little more air with each passing breath.
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Posted: Thu Nov 26, 2015 6:50 am
Shale drew out significant air from the space between lung and ribs (and thankfully without blood. Mentally he identified where the needle was located and pulled it out, then ejected the air. Porsha looked like she functioned nominally better, but he would try his chances at a second clearing of air. The needle returned, slightly more shallow this time, and he withdrew another margin of air before he decided further tinkering was both useless and potentially dangerous. This time the syringe was removed and discarded.
He felt the pressure on his arm as he worked but he chose against acknowledging it. Porsha sounded less imminently bad with each breath she rattled in. He imagined that the crackling would stay for some days, and she would cough significantly when the blood started to coagulate, but the worst of it should pass. Finally he pressed hands to the cool counter and looked to her face to gauge expression. She looked delirious.
Shale sighed, considered offering her some words, and chose instead to lift her once more. Carrying her to the bedroom proved no feat; he stepped over any objects in his path (primarily Lenore) and passed sideways through the small frame to reach her familiar bedroom. It did not look much different from when he encountered it - the same curtains hung on the windows, parted in the same way; the bed was made in the same fashion, and the same pictures hung on the wall or decorated sparse furniture. He laid her down carefully, avoiding the bruises as he went. Afterward, the blankets were pulled up over the wound to keep warm from the shock.
The hunter took a seat on the side of the bed; the springs squeaked their protests at him for doing so. He remembered doing it often - every morning that required he wear socks.
"Who did it?" He looked to her, expectant, and started to reflect on the combat experience of a senshi or knight that could reduce Xenotime to such a state.
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Posted: Sat Nov 28, 2015 2:40 pm
The syringe was gone and the pressure on her lungs alleviated. It let her pull him air, let her breathe, finally, even if each painful intake crackled and wheezed. It was still a relief, and the vice like grip she'd had on his arm loosened before falling away completely with a trailing of fingers across his wrist as he shifted so he could look down at her. Then he was scooping her up again as if she weighed nothing, and for the second time she bit her lip against the pain. Eyes closing as she turned her head against his chest. Just breathe. Slow draw in, slow release. Count the breaths. One, two, three... Chaos folded away as he reached the bedroom, and instead of general Xenotime, Shale was tucking Porsha into bed and drawing the covers up over her chest. She winced as the bed sagged under his weight, winced again at the automatic attempt to curl in against his hip, and gave up a second later to lie still against the bedding. The question had her drawing a hand from the covered, laying her arm against his side to rest a hand on his thigh. Tactile, even now. Maybe especially now. He was so warm. "Thraen." The name was a growl, and the roughness of her voice lent malice to that one word.
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Posted: Tue Dec 01, 2015 7:34 am
Shale did not spare her a look when he felt her touch; he considered it a normal process of any interaction with her, and a welcome reminder of home. Sometimes, when she solicited touch, he reminded himself that he experienced those moments far more sparsely here, and wondered if that might be contributing to his mounting irritation. No obvious answer came of it.
He heard the name, considered it, then leaned from his place on the bed toward her nightstand. If she still kept what few things he left here, then there would be a pen and pad in the drawer. He found it readily, wound the paper to a fresh page, and offered the pair to Porsha. "Write what you can remember of him. I'll upload what I can to the Negaverse database. We can organize retaliation." He nearly killed Xenotime, and she's a proven general.
"I want him as one of our own." He knew that the general may not like such words, but anyone who proved themselves that capable against a professionally trained fighter was a useful asset to the Negaverse. As both Ploutonion and Sandrine proved, the Negaverse needed no permission to corrupt others into willing (in some instances) agents. Perhaps, then, corrupting Thraen offered the Negaverse a chance at an extremely effective senshi.
And, possibly, he could teach those methods to others of his kind. Amphitrite came to mind.
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Posted: Thu Dec 03, 2015 7:43 pm
Laying still was a challenge. Porsha was seldom able to hold still for long, and even now, even hurt, this was no excepting. She wanted to curl in close to the man sitting beside her, bury her face against his hip and pull in the familiar, comforting scent of him. She wanted to let the last of the adrenaline fade and welcome the oblivion of sleep, even knowing what fresh hell she'd experience come morning. Pain didn't usually bother her, but this was beyond anything she'd ever experienced. Her hand trembled subtly where it lay across his thigh. Opiates, as well as all drugs, were something Porsha had made the conscious choice to stay away from, but she had the sinking feeling that they would be a necessary evil in the coming days. He was shifting again, leaning to dig in the nightstand drawer, and Porsha had to bite back the pain sounds that wanted to slip past swollen lips. God, it hurt to move. It hurt to breath. It just hurt. She blinked as he slipped a pencil and pad of paper into her ands, not even realizing she'd shut her eyes, and questioning look was directed up at him before he explained their purpose. Ah. Practical as always. Updating the database was a good idea, and getting the details down now, when her head was mostly clear, was probably a good idea. She began to write, slowly, handwriting nowhere near the usual, bubbly print she wrote with normally. Tall. 6' or more
Platinum blonde hair down to his hips
Pale like fire
Long scar bisecting his face from left to rig-The pencil made a jagged jerk across the paper as she spoke again, and Porsha turned wide, incredulous eyes up to the hunter. " No." It was croaked and cracked, and followed by a sharp, short breath. She was opposed to the idea on a personal level, certainly, but that wasn't the only thing that had her reaching out to close fingers in Shale's shirt. "He'll never..." Talking proved itself just as agonizing and breathing. "Never follow Metalia. Too dangerous." The thought of Umber going up against Thraen was frightening. She'd very nearly lost one person to the b*****d, she couldn't stand the idea of losing another. Umber was strong. He was a stilled fighter, improving every day, but so was she.
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Posted: Tue Dec 08, 2015 1:54 am
Shale listened to the quiet scratch of pen against the paper while he closed his eyes. Mentally he recounted what he could of the senshi - mostly he remembered vines and imposing derision. He remembered body language more than any real descriptors. Forcing himself, he scraped to surface the man's paleness and stature, but little more than that. With a thin sigh, he opened his eyes to look at the far wall in Porsha's apartment. Beyond that, the window gave view of deep night.
Her objection did not surprise him. "Don't speak." Finally his gaze shifted to her. "He won't go willingly, but he doesn't have to. There are those that refuse to follow, but they will in the end. Metallia could gut everything out of him if it repurposed him as a viable soldier." Those were his experiences, regardless - Haüyne, Chrysocolla and Amphitrite, all of the White Moon, proved perfectly capable of serving chaos. What purpose was there in deciding against it for Metallia? "We can trap him. We'll use more soldiers if we have to. We can put Information soldiers on him until we can devise a good setup. See what he wants. See what draws him out."
Again, his gaze drifted to the window. The moon hung still over the stony city. "You've forgotten that I am a hunter." Being a soldier has not taken that from me.
A glance at her page confirmed some parts that he remembered and rekindled others. The blonde hair he remembered at a shorter length, but within it curled small branches fraught with foliage. The rest remained relatively easy to recall. And yet, in addition to all these facts, he remembered quite clearly the scent of flowers that permeated the air around him. Were it not for aura sensing, he imagined that the Negaverse would have the upper hand on him by olfactory detection alone.
"Rest when you're done." He motioned to the notebook still sitting open on her lap. "I can make you some tea."
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Posted: Fri Dec 18, 2015 6:52 pm
Despite his assurances she still doubted that Thraen would ever be anything to the Negaverse but a ticking time bomb. And when he went off, as she knew he would, what collateral damage would there be to find in the wake of the explosion? Who would suffer for it? She didn't like the odds, they imply weren't stacked enough in their favor. Or is it bias that blinds me? Can I simply not see past my own hate? She didn't think so. Swallowing, she gave a small shake of her head, hand shifting where it rested on his leg. "Not forgotten." Smaller sentence fragments were easier, came clearer. Of course she hadn't forgotten his roots. She had more faith in him than anyone, or so she told herself. So she believed. She cared more, he was important to her. His potential was limitless, but he was only a captain, and the foe he wanted to capture was more powerful, just as ruthless. The fear of losing him didn't mean she'd lost her faith in him. The two weren't mutually exclusive. "Don't want you hurt." She coughed, had to close her eyes as it shuddered through her chest in waves of agony. She couldn't tell him the fear was as irrational as it was logical. That it's root lay in the memory of things she hadn't talked about, to anyone, in years. Even if she could ave spoken freely, would she have? Reminded of the notebook, she looked down again, pencil twirling in her fingers. After a moment she finished jotting down what she could recall of Thraen's appearance and his powers, then offered it back to him without a word. Finally listening, it would seem, to his order not to talk.
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Posted: Mon Dec 21, 2015 2:52 am
Shale cast her a glance. "I left behind any pride that tied me to a battle long ago. I know when it's better to leave." In part, it was roundabout chastisement of Porsha's own decisions - to stay behind, to fight the senshi even as her own wounds deteriorated to potentially lethal status. She gambled her own life, the life of a SpecOps general who proved herself a capable and willing trainer, against one eternal senshi in a network of guerrilla forces that lacked such structure. He couldn't speak for how the enemy perceived each other, but he knew that as a General, Porsha was a symbol of leadership, a role model, and an irreplaceable tool in the foundations of their armies. "Don't do that again."
Shale reached behind his head to untie the veritable mane he kept. Immediately the hair exploded out of its hold with a single light wave from the hours spent pulled taut. Absently he massaged the base of his scalp to distribute the hair and dissipate the soreness. "I don't have plans to engage him yet." He retired the leather length to Porsha's nightstand. "The odds are better with a small team to take him down. Depending on his magic." He knew not what the man could use, and he supposed nothing was beyond the realm of their capabilities. He encountered mood-based tactics, pseudo-weaponry and more from their enemies, and he loathed the thought of discovering a lethal area attack that grew with the number on the battlefield.
Shale accepted the journal and pen, then looked over what she wrote. His powers - what she knew of them - looked like a tactical challenge. He would have to go through another general to cement any type of plan. "I'll enter this into the database later." After folding it closed, Shale stood and left the bedroom momentarily to start on the tea he promised her.
A handful of minutes passed of steeping leaves in heated water, mixing in milk and honey, then scouring her cupboards for something simple to eat that might lend some energy. Yogurt was the best he could find, so when he returned, he held yogurt and spoon in one hand, and the two cups in the opposite. After setting the yogurt next to his journal, he handed Porsha her cup by the rim. "Chamomile was the bet I could find." She needed rest regardless.
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Posted: Sun Dec 27, 2015 2:40 pm
In her own defense, the general had been winning right up to Thraen stabbing her in the chest, at which point she had called for assistance. Granted, her motives had been with eliminating the eternal senshi, rather than her own safety, so the chastising wasn't completely unwarranted. Porsha bit the inside of her cheek as she looked away from him, irked by the reminder. Until he all but ordered her not to do anything of the sort again. That pulled her focus back around, even as she frowned up at him, more puzzled now than annoyed. The command had been out of concern, but was it because of her status within the Negaverse, or a personal connection. She wanted to ask, the question there at the tip of her tongue, but wasn't sure she wanted the answer if it was anything but what she hoped it'd be. So instead her features softened as he reassured he he had no plans to engage the ruthless eternal, laying out a plan of strategy instead. A plan she could have contributed to a little more solidly had she actually found out what his magic could do. Of course, if she had, there was no telling if she would have walked away from the encounter. It had been better, wiser, to avoid the spread of flowers altogether. She had learned something though, and before he could take the notebook from her hands, she wrote down a last note. Magic is plant based, and only seemed to effect anything within the circle of it's range.Lenora hopped up onto the bed as Shale headed for the kitchen, and Porsha reached for the cat, digging he nails beneath the purring beasty's chin in a fond scratch before she was laying down beside her. The sight of the cat, like the fight, was another painful reminder of things lost, and she gave a broken sigh as she slid he soft triangle of the cat's ear between her fingertips. Shale's return was welcome distraction, and she took the tea with a murmur of thanks, sipping it very carefully. Swallowing hurt. Hell, breathing hurt, but it seemed like she was getting used to that, if it were possible. What had been sharp and immediate seemed more like a dull, all-encompassing ache now. The yogurt was spared a brief glance. Po didn't have an appetite. her entire mouth and throat tasted like blood(even after a few sips of tea), and she wasn't even sure she could manage to swallow it, but she didn't figure Shale would accept a flat out refusal. Besides, if he thought she should try to get something into her system, there was probably a logical reason for it. She'd probably lost more blood than she was aware of. Probably come closer to death than she knew... Resting her tea on her lap, she looked up at his face. "Will you stay?"
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Posted: Thu Dec 31, 2015 6:24 am
Shale read the statement as he wrote it and puzzled over its meaning. It proved to be very little information, and left behind a surfeit of questions that may only exacerbate her further. He needed to try - the Negaverse learned nothing by catering to feelings over asking hard questions. "What does it do? Do you remember the size of this circle of flowers? Did he do anything beforehand that could give you clues that he's casting?" Shale held her gaze unblinkingly as he hoped for further information. Porsha was observant; he was certain she recalled something of the nature of that magic.
The question was a change of pace - one that he accepted rather than railed against. "I can stay for a while. I have to leave tomorrow morning. Slate should be able to pick up from there." Observance confirmed that his brother was not entirely incompetent anymore. He wondered, though, if Slate would be able to care for Porsha in a beneficial manner. He often strayed too far toward comforts rather than the necessary treatments. As an MMA fighter, though, Shale imagined that Porsha knew what was best for her.
Shale reached out to brush fingers against the arch of the cat, and while he and the animal got along on a rudimentary level, he felt no particular care for cats. Lenore looked more sleek and healthy when he was living at Porsha's, but he attributed that to the scraps she often received from his cooking. She might receive further meals tonight if Porsha felt well enough to eat real food. He never suffered a punctured lung before, but he imagined that it didn't interfere with the eating process - that was an entirely different set of pipes.
"Is there anything you need me to do while I'm here?"Beejoux should we start moving this toward a close?
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Posted: Sun Jan 03, 2016 2:29 pm
Porsha frowned at the question, and it was a combination of things that made her do so. Exertion taking it's toll, as well as trying to recall facts from the earliest part of the fight. He'd held his hands together, then there had been seeds, and when they had scattered they'd grown. What had he said? She struggled to recall it, brows creasing as she tapped the pen on the edge of the notebook. After a quiet moment it seemed something had come back to her, and she drew a line under the last fact before starting to write again. Thraen perennial planting
Radius of 10-12ft, possibly more.
Circle contains flowers and reaching vines.
Unsure what level of magic.
Clasped hands before casting, appeared to summon seedsAnd that really was the last she could tell him, at least for now. More might return to her later. Bits and pieces rising back up to the forefront of her mind, but right then even simple thoughts were becoming taxing. So she handed the notepad back to him, taking the yogurt and spoon in it's stead so she could take a small bite. Raspberry, her favorite, just not right that moment. She took another bite though, then another. It was important to keep her strength up.Thank god the cup was small though, and she only had to force down a handful of bites before offering it up to Shale again. His answer to her inquire was followed by a nod of understanding. Slate was back in the apartment, and he was capable of keeping up on the chores, taking care of Lenore. He could play nurse while she was incapacitated. "Feed cat," she answered simply when asked about things that needed to be done. Really, she wanted him there for her, not for Lenore. For as strong as she was, Porsha was still human, and she wanted his company. His presence had become incredibly familiar to her, and that familiarity was a comfort, especially now.
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Posted: Sun Jan 10, 2016 1:42 am
The information given was promising for its visual cue and distribution, but not for its effects. Xenotime did not experience them. He considered it beneficial, for the magic may end her life otherwise. The flowers could be poisonous, or beneficial to the senshi, or prone to entrapment. They could produce any number of effects. Umber was not so well-versed in magic that he could hazard a guess.
And, evidently, neither was Xenotime.
"Thank you. This is good. Others can act with this." Thraen Perennial Planting. What does that mean. I am no horticulturist. The rest of the information was stowed away in his back pocket and in the back of his mind; he would think about this for some time further, but Porsha demanded more immediate attention than puzzling out the senshi's magical abilities.
Her request puzzled him, and he cast his gaze down toward the one-eyed cat, then issued a nod. "Right." She explained before that Lenore was an indoor-only cat, which left the hunter quite confused, and that Lenore only ate kibble out of a food dish. Even now, Lenore paraded around his feet and mewled at him to assert her demands. It was only recently familiar behavior, and he acquiesced the demand. "I'll take care of it."
Shale seized the empty cup of yogurt before he departed, then continually avoided tripping over the cat as she led the way back into the kitchen. The meows only grew louder as he approached her food dish, and by the time he found the bag, Lenore was standing on hind legs in expectation of reaching the food. A small cup of kibble came out, chimed into the ceramic bowl, and then the cat charged in to claim the spoils. She hardly waited for the cup to leave before she sought the first bites. Shale wondered if she often behaved like she was starving.
The yogurt was discarded, the spoon found the sink, and Shale headed back toward the bedroom to watch over Porsha's condition for the night. It would be a long vigil, but a worthwhile one in the end - one that ensured the survival of a friend and General of the Negaverse.
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