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 Posted: Mon Dec 14, 2015 12:40 pm
It was snowing in the quiet streets of Destiny City and one Fiona Watson felt very annoyed about this change in weather as she trudged across snow covered sidewalks in her too short boots. Her coat was drawn tightly across her chest and her face was buried into her infinity scarf. She looked, for all the world, miserable to be walking in the cold.
Her gloved hands were tucked beneath her armpits, with her head ducked low, when she spotted something too colorful against the white of the snow. Curioisity got the better of her, as it was wont to, and she stepped off the sidewalk to better examine the little droplets of red. Upon closer inspection she recognized it as bodily fluid and a spike of panic filled her as she abruptly stood upright and backed away.
Her mismatched eyes swept around her surroundings while her fingers curled into fists reflexively.
Someone was bleeding in the storm and a conflict of desires welled up within her. If it was someone from the Negaverse, she hoped they bled out, but if it was someone on the side of Order, they needed medical attention. Probably immediate.
After a moment of deliberation and a check that there were no prying eyes, Fiona fished out her henshin pen from her coat pocket and let the power flow through her.
Relief flooded her almost instantly when she registered the pulse of a knight and not one of chaos. She let herself deliberate for just a moment longer before trudging after the spotty blood trail.
"For the love of Cosmos," she cursed when she found the wounded pressed against a wall looking worse for the wear. "What happened to you?" She asked, rushing over to check his wounds.
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Posted: Wed Dec 16, 2015 10:02 pm
He was vaguely aware that it was snowing.
He was also vaguely aware that he was walking through said snow, and that the wetness had started to seep through to his skin beneath the uniform, making him shiver violently with each laborious step. An unpleasant, icy chill had spread its way across his body, already protesting the loss of blood it had suffered.
Celsus was also somewhat more acutely aware of the pain. It was like needles pressing into him from all angles, every part of him screaming for relief, and yet he couldn't stop walking, not now. One arm was braced around his torso, as though holding his stomach, while the other was outstretched, bruised knuckles visible as he pressed his palm to the wall, trying to keep his balance.
It didn't work. Celsus tripped over something on the ground, stumbled, and fell painfully to one knee, letting out a hiss of agony. He thought briefly of trying to get up again, then dismissed the notion, instead just sinking further onto the snow covered street and panting heavily with the effort of just moving.
He did not notice the power signature until it was practically on top of him. Celsus heard someone swear, footsteps, and then a voice reach him, worried and rushed. The voice was just as unfamiliar as the appearance, which Celsus saw after cracking open one eye blearily.
"General," he mumbled, turned his head away from whoever it was that was kneeling beside him, and spat out a mouthful of blood onto the snow, turning it crimson. "Just...thought I'd have a bit of fun, y'know."
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Posted: Wed Dec 16, 2015 10:43 pm
A frown settled upon the redhead's lips as she reached for the knight's shoulders, moved to push him back so she could look at his wounds. The crease in her forehead deepened when he spat out blood and she cursed under her breath. "You look like you took one hell of a beating, let me look at it," she demanded hands grasping for the part of the uniform that was seeped in blood.
"Do you go around picking fights you can't win, or did you just happen to get in over your head?" Her head snapped up as she gave him a pointed look. The dragonfly senshi couldn't help but think it was the former, because of the way he was beaten and the fact that he was still powered, even if he was bleeding out.
"Is it safe to assume that you don't want to go to the hospital?" She asked, attention returning to the wounded abdomen. Her gloved fingers came away crimson and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it as she pulled at the fabric. She peeled the torn fabric away from his skin, grimacing when she actually saw the source of the bleeding.
She reached for the long trains of her sash, fingers twisting the fabric until she tore a long strip off. "We should get it wrapped, try and stop the bleeding until I can give you proper first aid. You might need stitches. I'm not very good at them, but I can do them decently if you don't want to go to the hospital."
She'd taken a few first aid courses after she'd been cut up in her early days as a sailor scout, being able to treat your own wounds was a lot cheaper and easier. It kept people from asking questions and in a city where you had two identities, well secrecy was really important.
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Posted: Thu Dec 17, 2015 6:36 am
He still couldn't quite figure out who she was. Not one he'd ever encountered, unless his mind was too hazy to make the connection, which was a definite possibility. Celsus leaned his head back against the wall of the building again and tried to get his eyes focused, a sharp pain throbbing somewhere in the region of his left temple.
"Just...got a bit overwhelmed," he said, almost absently, as though this was a second thought not quite considered before. It wasn't exactly true, but that also wasn't really at the forefront of Celsus' mind. He swallowed hard, closing his eyes briefly, and eased out a ragged breath.
"No," he said, once he'd gotten his voice a little more under control. "No, no hospitals."
He could not bear to have them look at him, could not bear what they would say to him. And besides that, this was not that much, in the grand scheme of things. It wasn't anything less than he deserved, and Celsus shifted a little as the senshi tugged at the fabric, a hiss of pain escaping.
"That works," he said, and let out a small laugh, hoarse sounding and almost bitter. "I'm sure you'll do fine."
It was almost agonizing, staying powered up, his energy starting to drain away from him little by little. Stubbornly he kept it up, though there was a bead of sweat sliding down the side of his face, paler than usual, his breathing coming out even less controlled than before.
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Posted: Thu Dec 17, 2015 8:06 am
It didn't occur to her that she probably needed to introduce herself, because she was too busy fussing over him. She didn't care that she didn't know him or that he didn't know her. Introductions could come later, when she'd gotten him to a stable place and he wasn't at risk of going into shock.
Priorities, Denebola had them.
"No hospitals, got it," she mumbled, mismatched eyes narrowing with focus as she pressed the sheerer fabric against his skin, sliding it beneath his clothing and around his back, careful not to press too hard until she'd wrapped it around all of him and tied it in a neat, tight knot. "That'll probably hold for now, sorry about the scratchy fabric. There's nothing else on my fuku that'd really work." Her skirt was too short to rip pieces from.
Still, blood had begun to seep through and she cursed, grabbing one of his arms and slinging it around her shoulder. "Think you can walk?" She asked, eyes darting to search his paling face. "My flat isn't too far away, I could probably carry you too." But only because of magical enhanced strength. There was a slight hesitation where she inhaled and exhaled shakily. "Do you trust me?"
A very important question, given that she was basically willing to compromise her identity and give her civilian one away just to keep him from dying on her. Of course, Denebola had never been good at leaving someone who needed her behind.
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Posted: Fri Dec 18, 2015 9:51 am
The press of the fabric, as helpful as it was bound to be, made Celsus hiss with pain anyway, black spots blinking in and out of his line of vision. For a moment he felt as though he was going to pass out right then and there, but then the world slid back into focus and he was able to ease out a ragged breath.
"S'fine," he mumbled. He gripped her shoulders obediently and then gave a little nod, which made him dizzier. "Yes, I can walk."
Maybe. But his legs shifted already to put weight on them, even though he felt unsteady and unpleasant on his feet, he did not want to burden this girl even more than he already was. Yet another thing to feel ashamed of, Celsus, an excellent way to make new acquaintances.
Did he trust her? He couldn't say for certain, but she was clearly an Order senshi, and besides that, Celsus could feel the glamour slipping, unable to hold on much longer.
"Yes," he managed to get out, and then gave a shudder and a hiss as finally it became too much. The identity of Celsus melted away, shifted and disappeared until what was left was a freckled, red-haired man in glasses, khakis, and a sweater, pale and sweating in the snow.
"Ow."
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Posted: Mon Dec 21, 2015 9:18 am
Denebola wrapped slender fingers around Celsus's wrist as it draped across her shoulders and slid her other hand across his back, slotting against his hip firmly, while still mindful of his wounds. Her fingers flexed against his body and her shoulders were tense, preparing for the moment that his body gave out and she'd need to carry him. She didn't mind, her first priority was getting him to safety.
"If at any point, you feel like you won't be able to walk, you need to tell me," she instructed, giving him a firm look that said I mean it. She was about to start walking when she felt the stutter in aura before a blip! and it was gone. Instead of Celsus being draped across her, there was a freckled boy in glasses struggling to stay upright.
"s**t," she muttered under breath at the power down.
"Come on, it's maybe a ten minute walk."
She started walking, wedges sinking into the snow as she half-walked, half-carried her companion with her knees bent slightly to compensate for the slight height advantage her heels gave her over him. She didn't want to over-strain him.
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Posted: Mon Dec 21, 2015 6:51 pm
She was shorter than him, but not by much, which was reassuring. It meant that he could lean a little more heavily on her without being afraid of overpowering her, especially since she was powered up now and he was not. Fritz gave a slow nod, then regretted this the instant he did it, his head spinning dangerously.
"Gotcha, gotcha," he mumbled, and made his legs move slowly, sluggishly. It was a pain to have to even walk in the first place, his body practically screaming to stop being forced into moving, and yet he couldn't do that. He had to keep going, had to keep walking.
He tried not to think about it too much.
"S'your name?" Fritz murmured, eyes half shut. "Sorry, dunno it."
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Posted: Mon Dec 21, 2015 11:09 pm
"Hey," she tried, keeping her voice as soothing as she could manage. "Don't move too much, we don't want to make it worse." She could feel him slacking beneath her, struggling to move as his wounds threatened to get the better of him.
"My name is Denebola," she offered, stilling for a moment. "This isn't working. You're too weak." She shifted until she was standing in front of him. "I'm carrying you and I better not hear you fussing about it." She reached for his other arm and brought it around her neck, knees bending so she could pull him on to her back.
"When we get to my place, I'll tell you my other name. We're endangered enough as it."
She hooked her arms beneath his legs and stood upright, using all of her added strength to make him rather weightless. "Don't worry, I'm going to take care of you. So you better not die on me."
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Posted: Tue Dec 22, 2015 8:25 am
Denebola. Not a name he recognized, even just from passing, but Fritz made a mental note of it anyway, in spite of the fact that his brain felt like a combination of marshmallows and melted Jell-o. He kept moving, on autopilot now, legs trembling with each step and hating the fact that he was not better, not stronger, not anything.
You were a mistake.
Fritz did not notice that she was shifting until suddenly he was pulled onto her back, and he did not have the strength to protest. He held on as much as he could, pressing his face against her shoulder, and closed his eyes, figuring it would be easier to just let her do what she was doing..
"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "This isn't..."
But whatever it wasn't trailed off, tapering into a frustrated sigh instead.
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Posted: Tue Dec 22, 2015 11:46 am
Once certain that he wasn't going to try and fight her, or slide off, with her arms securely locked around his legs and his arms draped across her shoulder she started walking. She moved briskly, but carefully, not wanting to jostle her patient more than necessary.
"Don't be sorry," she scolded, fingers digging into his thighs a little deeper. "s**t happens, you make poor choices and face the consequences. Then you get up and you try to do it a little differently, a little better next time." Those were things she'd learned first hand.
She didn't have time to throw herself little pity parties, not anymore. She'd hid away for too long as it was, she wasn't going to let her companion rag on himself more than necessary.
As they grew closer to her flat and she carefully climb the set of stairs, she made the decision to power down so she could fish her key out of her coat pocket.
Celsus--Fritz was heavier when she dropped from Denebola to Fiona, but her grip remained strong and she did not falter under his weight. She fumbled with her keys, but finally her door swung open and they stumbled in.
She thanked cosmos that her living room wasn't too far from her door because it made depositing the man on her couch so much easier.
"I'm going to get the first aid kit, but I'm going to need you to take off your shirt, so I can properly examine the wound." She worried her lip as she retreated to the door, shutting and clicking the lock. "Please don't pass out from blood loss," she begged when she passed the couch on her way to the bathroom. "Recite street names to keep yourself conscious....uh, I never got your name."
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Posted: Tue Dec 22, 2015 4:35 pm
He floated in and out of a daze on the walk back, dimly aware of the voice that wafted through to his ears. You make poor choices was what stayed prevalent in his thoughts, however, and though he heard the rest of what she said as well, it was this that reverberated inside of his head.
You make poor choices.
What else is new?
Up the stairs, which made Fritz dizzied, and then he felt the shift beneath, just slightly, and became more aware of the fact that Denebola had powered down. He couldn't see her from this angle, but then they were inside, and he was being lowered onto the couch, Fritz's head falling against the back of it with a groan.
"No blood loss," he muttered, but at least he was somewhat more lucid now. With effort, he unbuttoned the front of his shirt with slow, painstakingly awkward gestures until it was undone, and then flinched as he pushed it off entirely. A gash ran from the right side of his chest down to his hip, a few other scrapes and bruises along his rib cage and elsewhere.
"Street names," Fritz said. "Uh. Mulberry, Second, Nineteenth...oh, my name's Fritz," he added, somewhat belatedly, taking a deep breath. It was easier to focus now, when he wasn't expending a great deal of energy just trying to put one foot in front of the other. "Brownstone...Jefferson..."
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Posted: Tue Dec 22, 2015 9:37 pm
Fiona caught his name just as she slipped into the bathroom, storing the name Fritz away for the moment while she rifled through her cabinets and pulled all of the supplies she thought she might need. When she returned to her guest, she dumbed the supplies onto the coffee table and began to sort through them, pulling the hydrogen peroxide and the gauze pads out before settling between his legs on her knees.
"Well Fritz," Fiona said slowly, mismatched eyes flicking up to his face while she pressed the peroxide into the gauze, "my name is Fiona." Her gaze shifted to the long gash on his side and she tried not to wince.
It was worse than she thought.
"I wish we had met under better circumstances but," she sighed, about to press the pad to his wound. "This will sting," she warned when she pressed it against his skin, "but I don't want you to get an infection." She was careful, gentle as she cleaned the wound, even leaning in to get a better look.
When she was finished, she ran her fingers carefully along it and tried not to frown too deeply. "Tell me about yourself Fritz," she suggested, turning to rummage through her first aid kit until she pulled out a needle and began to thread it. "It will distract you from the sting of the needle," she looked up at him again, concern written across her face. "Or I can talk, if you want. Just ask me questions."
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Posted: Tue Dec 29, 2015 9:53 pm
Sitting down and not moving made it easier to focus on things other than the pain, though that was still a terribly prominent aspect of Fritz's mind. He caught sight of a head of brownish red hair in a shade only slightly darker than his own, and dual colored eyes of a most unusual nature that made him wonder if he was seeing things.
"Fiona is a lovely name," Fritz murmured, with a faint trace of his usual casual air, but it lacked everything else, even if he meant it. He hoped he wasn't getting blood on her couch - if anything could have made his situation more embarrassing and pathetic, that would have been it, after all.
Her warning was at least appreciated, though it did little to take the edge of of the sting. Fritz let out a string of obscenities that were hardly appropriate for polite company, pain searing up and down his spine. He gritted his teeth against the wave of nausea that rose and tried desperately to keep his head from sinking into blackness.
A ragged breath escaped him, Fritz closing his eyes.
"I'm...a painter," he managed to get out, focusing on the words and nothing else, just the words push everything else away. Speak. "I work in...acrylics mostly...sometimes charcoal...I have a cat named...Crook, though it's....short for Crookshanks."
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Posted: Wed Dec 30, 2015 11:41 am
Fiona offered him a slight smile when he complimented her name before she focused her attention solely on stitching up the wound. She pulled the needle through his skin as he started to talk about being an artist. She hummed quietly as she worked, eyes flicking up now and then to gauge his pain levels better.
"I'd love to see your artwork sometime," she told him quietly, "if you'd let me." She pulled the thread taunt before going in for another loop. "Crookshanks, like Hermione's cat?" Harry Potter had been one of the few book series that she'd actually sat down and read, a few times even.
She retained her knowledge of the series unlike with the numerous other books she'd read and promptly forgotten. "What house do you think you're in?" She asked as she worked, doing her best to keep him distracted. "And why, of course."
Fiona thought herself to be a Gryffindor, once upon a time.
She finished her stitches and snipped the thread. "I'm going to cover it in antibiotic ointment, then we're going to bandage it," she explained, setting the needle onto the table and fishing out the rest of her supplies. "I'm going to examine you for other wounds, because you're pretty battered."
She pooled the ointment onto her hand and pressed it carefully against his skin.
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