Hy-Brasil had made the decision to stay to more occupied areas of town where the greater concentrations of people were. The night was proving to be quiet though, and there was little going on that wasn’t any more troublesome that kids getting spooked, getting sugar rushes, or some TPing and egg throwing going on. Nothing that she felt the need to step in on. Just kids being kids. Instead, she decided to make her way to the business sector where she knew a few businesses were handing out candy to trick-or-treaters as well, but didn’t necessarily get hit as hard as the suburban areas. There were enough people milling around though to make it fun to watch them from the rooftops. Some of the costumes she knew and some were far too recent pop-culture for her to get, but were still amusing. She was pretty sure she had seen two teens running around dressed as a unicorn though. One in the front and one in the back. It had been amusing to watch them try and sync with each other. At one point, when stepping off the curb to walk across the street, the back end teen had opted to just disengage from the front and walk across on his own.
She heard some kids come running around yelling about a zombie and how real it looked. Grinning, Hy Brasil shook her head. The imagination of kids was amazing. She doubted the costume had been as like-like as the kids were going on about, but they quickly moved out of her earshot.
It was about then that she noticed another signature. It wasn’t terribly far from where she was. Another out watching out for the kids on All Hallow’s Eve. Seeing how the evening hadn’t even brought her face-to-face with a youma yet, Hy decided to go see who it was nearby. It would certainly be nice to have a partner tonight. Turning on a boot heel, she set off toward the signature, using the rooftops as her main source of travel. Sure she could probably get by just running around in the streets tonight considering how everyone else was dressed, but she really had no interest in pulling any sort of attention to herself.
Within a few minutes she was on top of the signature. With a smile, she hopped down from the rooftops not far from her fellow Knight. “Hey, I was…” The color drained from her face as she sucked in a harsh breath when she caught sight of the man in front of her.
Scholomance made no attempt to stop the children. He followed the paved street stiffly, his unbent hand just brushing along the wall. His muscles wanted to seize. Clamminess prompted hazy palm prints whenever he found windows. He wondered just how long he had before shock set in, if it hadn’t already, and how long until it killed him,
He couldn’t reach a hospital, he knew.
He felt a squire surreally; he expected them to skip over his presence. Maybe they were chasing down Schörl and Cinnabar, he didn’t know. He didn’t expect it. His legs started to cramp and yelling was out of the question. They would pass him by and he’d resume the long walk. The concrete mile, he called it mentally.
Twilight bowed to full night and the cleverer men of Destiny City avoided the alleys, the side streets. An intersection glimpsed in the distance grew dark with the passing of pedestrians. He realized, then, that he could stand in the middle of a crowd and they wouldn’t know his pain until he died and would no longer respond to childish goads. If nothing else, it guaranteed a poor return on Schörl’s investment.
But it wasn’t so.
The knight he recognized, but he had no words for her. She had none for him. He reached to press fingers into his mouth and felt none. Jarred, he echoed that imagined motion with his left hand, and touched fingers into the quickly filling sockets. There was more than enough.
The side street lamps provided enough light for reading under the clouded sky. Capital letters spelled his request. HELP, it read, in still-warm blood that traced short trails down the brick wall. NO HOSP was written beneath it, which was soon joined by the rivulets from the top letters. He moved his hand then, and wrote a last word: CATFE. He spat the heavy mouthful of blood into the street.
It was jarring. Everything that she was seeing. From the amount of blood, lack of arm, missing teeth, to the poorly scrawled bloody words, and to the fact that the Knight was still actually standing. Stunned would be the perfect way to describe the squire. It took incredible effort to force herself to fully read and take in what Scholomance had written out with his own blood. The font was, to say the least, difficult to read, but once she was able to wrap her mind around it she snapped out of her shocked state.
“Jesus…” The quiet curse left her as she darted toward him. What the hell could she do? There was so much blood, everywhere. She could tear up her own outfit to try and tie up some wounds but it would be a waste of time. Nothing besides surgery was going to stop the bleeding from his missing arm or teeth. He needed medical help. Fast!
Not caring that she was about to get covered in his blood, she ducked under his remaining arm. He was taller than her, but in his exhausted state, it wasn’t unsurprising that he was hunched over so she let him lean on her.. “What the hell happened to you?” She questioned as her weapon appeared in her hand. “Nevermind, don’t even bother trying to talk. I am...god, I don’t know if I can do a damn thing, but I can at least try to heal you a bit.” Who was she kidding? With the extent of damage he had, he needed the hospital he didn’t want to go to.
The mist that ever so gently floated from her incense burner seemed to billow out at a higher rate, surrounding Scholomance. Hy-Brasil only channeled it for about 15 seconds though, afraid of tiring herself out incase they ran into more trouble. Or if she needed to give him an emergency boost.
The fear for the man she was supporting, along with the rush of adrenaline in knowing she needed to act fast caused Hy-Brasil to tremble slightly. This is no time to break down! She thought to herself as she felt the trembling begin.
“Ok. Catfe, Catfe.” She said it softly as she wracked her brain on what the hell that was.Cat. Fe. Cat. fe..cafe.
Then it clicked.
There was a cat cafe not too far away. Well, in his state it would feel like an eternity to get there, but realistically it was a mile or so. But why there? By the looks of him he needed to seek some serious medical attention. “I have no damn idea why you want to go there. You need to see a doctor.” She admonished to him, but was already carefully trying to help him down the street. At least with the two of them and Hy-Brasil to lean on, she felt like they had to be making better pace than he would have done on his own.
As she walked with him, a part of her wondered if she should just attempt to carry him to a hospital, despite his wishes. Surely he wasn’t thinking correctly? Still, she followed along with him. Each step, each moment was tense as she feared the blood loss or shock may overtake him. What the hell would she do then?!
Scholomance leaned against the wall as he waited. Shivers took him uncontrollably. A headache set in, pounding where liters of precious fluid evacuated from him. Slowly the pool at his feet grew while she gawked and dawdled. He didn’t know how he looked (like a zombie, he reminded himself) but her reaction said enough.
She seized him like a doll and he let her. He had no reason to fight her. Ache pervaded his entire being and he wanted nothing more than to shut off his consciousness permanently. He did not want to live through this. He did not want to die from this. He did not want to face the future for all the blistering tolls it told to him. Moving in any capacity hurt, however, and the motions came stuttered, jerking. He trembled and groaned wordlessly at her touch. Breathing came at too steep a cost anymore.
Sandalwood crept about him, masking over vomit and sharp copper in a thin layer. The pain edge receded slightly - he took more of a breath than the shallow levels he managed before - but those efforts lasted little. They helped little against the 28 holes, the transected bone, the missing finger. So much of him screamed at the end of the magic that he locked up from moving for another several seconds.
Please, he thought through pain and sweat, don’t do that again. Don’t breed hope.
And she didn’t - for she objected to his terms, scoffed at them, and insisted on the hospital. She insisted and she started to drag him, so he shut his mouth. He waited for the boiling pain to build, for his mouth to fill, and then spat upon her face with all the blood he mustered. In accompaniment, he shook his head vehemently. NO he wrote in quick motions against the wall they stumbled along. Total servitude waited with medical care, with doctors, with chart documentation. He looked upon her pleadingly.
As expected, her magic did little to aid him. In fact, Hy worried she may have done more bad than good in her attempt. There was fear he was going into shock what with the shivers that he was displaying. Much more than her own anxious ones. She watched him carefully but she found it incredibly hard to look upon his poor, battered face, and instead turned her focus to the placement of his feet as he walked along, slowly, beside her. Suddenly a thick, warm fluid was colliding with her face and she involuntarily jerked away from it. With a free hand she wiped at her face, smearing the mix of blood and spittle all over herself and her hand.
For a brief moment she thought he may have coughed it up on her, indicating there may be even more damage than what she could see, but his intense look, shake of a head, and hastily scribbled NO on the wall was proof enough that the deed had been done on purpose. An action to get her attention and point out his intent. “That was unnecessary.” She said, quietly, as she resumed her steady place at his side. He was moving well all things considered, but she wasn’t about to leave his side. Even if he had just insulted her with such a disgusting and unwarranted move. “I don’t know what you’re complaining about, but if you want me to take you to this catfe and not change my mind and haul you to a hospital, please refrain from spitting in my face.
By this point, the blood in his coat had begun to transfer and stain her own clothing. Green fabric darkened and discolored while brown leather slowly turned a deep mahogony, almost black tone. The two of them probably look like quite the terror walking down the alley what with Scholomance in the shape he was in and her with blood smeared across her face like some sort of heathen warrior. At least they fit the theme for the evening. Any other night they would have been extremely suspicious and obvious walking targets. Tonight, they looked like two people enjoying the holiday with ridiculously real looking costumes.
“I could try and carry you, you know.” She mentioned to him. He was hurting. God, how could he not be? Each breath he took was obviously pained with the shallow intake of air and occasional hitches. God, she wished she could do more for him. “I don’t know if there would be a...nice way to do it without hurting you more at this point.” She said as she shifted under his arm, trying to take as much weight as he would let her take as they ambled towards their destination.
Deep injury provoked an acute awareness of how all the muscles in the human body are interwoven seamlessly. Every breath taken provoked further hurt in what was left of his arm - and slinging his remaining arm over Hy-Brasil’s shoulder stretched chest muscles, which offered more harm. Breathing became nigh nonexistent with how loathe he was to move abdominal muscles. He could not stiffen jaw, move tongue, or give facial expression without antagonizing his utter lack of teeth.
She objected to his vehemence, and he could say nothing. Terribly exhausted as he was, any manner of response simply exacted too much from him. As they continued to move together, with each inadvertent bump of her body against his, he sustained more tensions and occasionally stopped at his slow pace.
She offered to carry him, and he was torn. Carrying promised all the agony he tried to avoid, and the same full screams that wore out his voice earlier. Carrying meant he could not mitigate his pain levels with such great care as now. Carrying also meant that he would reach the CatFe much more quickly. Or was this simply a decision of die from shock now or die from shock later? Delirious from pain, he could not reach a decision.
Blood still flowed freely from his open mouth, and he considered using it to write her another message - to say that it was her decision now, that he couldn’t think beyond the pain. More of it closed in about him like an iron maiden. Soon movement on his own would become impossible.
Pick something, Gwen. Just hurry. Chill crept in and he trembled terribly.
Their trek towards their destination grew slower and slower as Scholomance struggled more with each passing moment. At the rate they were going, Hy worried that they’d not make it, to whomever it was he wanted to see, in time. Truthfully, at this rate, she just wanted to get him somewhere and that Catfe was closer than the hospital.
The silence drug on after her question. All she needed from him was a nod or a shake of the head as an answer. Instead, what she got, was his body beginning to quake. What form, she had no clue, but there was a stabbing fear that overcame her in that moment. She may not know Scholomance well but she’d be damned if she didn’t do what she could to get him safe and with someone who could help him. It was in that moment that she made up her mind. With or without Scholomance’s permission she stopped just long enough to scoop the man up in her arms.
There was no better way to carry him than in a bridal position. After all, if she slung him over her shoulder that would be even more painful and she had little doubt he’d be able to manage holding onto her if she let him onto her back. And thus began the slightly awkward and not so easy carry to the Catfe. Scholomance was, thankfully, smaller in frame than many men and it helped lessen the strain on the woman’s arms. But, even with her increased strength, Hy could feel her muscles burn with him in her arms. “Just hold on, ok? We aren’t too far away at this point.” She looked at the man who was awkwardly draped in her arms.
God, they had to look ridiculous.
With the ability to move at her own pace, Hy set a steady brisk walk. Running was out of the question for fear of tripping or jostling Scholo more than she was. But, they were certainly moving at a faster clip than they had before. So within several minutes they were in the general vicinity of where they wanted to be. The problem was,Hy didn’t know exactly where this Catfe was. She knew she was in the right area, but wasn’t sure if it was the right street or not. “Hey. Hey, just point me in the direction of the Catfe, ok? I know I am close, I am just….not 100% right now where it’s at. She shifted him in her arms as the burn began to grow to an uncomfortable state. She refused to put him down now though. They were far too close to their destination for her to want to waste more time than she already was.
Scholomance could not stifle the half-drowned scream at being disturbed so heavily. She seized him, and instinct prompted both arms about her neck but only one heeded the call. Three fingers sat with a gap on her shoulder, and breath came labored with pain. Whimpering went unstifled; he lacked the discipline to shut away all the agony he faced with every step.
She spoke, but he didn’t hear it. She stumbled along, front-heavy now, and passed through streets less familiar in the dark. He recognized where they were, and how to navigate back to the CatFe. He knew enough to tell her, if the pain of his condition would only abate.
During the few times that she needed correction, Scholomance tried to point wordlessly. Sometimes he could not stretch his fingers into her periphery, so he needed to grunt through the blood to get her attention. The world started to lose its sharpness, then, and pain threatened to leave him alongside it. He knew he would pass out soon, or sicken himself with the swallowing of so many ounces of blood. Again he pointed, and again she changed direction in an awkward shuffle. He wondered if he could stay awake to reach the barista’s doorstep.
Perhaps he asked too much in this. The alternative was guaranteed corruption, however.
A last managed point and she would find the proper street. Further identification needed only the names above the buildings. Breathing grew more labored, yet he hardly got enough air. Not enough blood, he knew, but he had no means to replace it. His blood type was rare, too.
Now wouldn’t it rub Schörl the wrong way to know he died in transit?
With Scholomance’s directions, Hy-Brasil managed to navigate herself around streets she wasn’t necessarily use to. Especially in the dark. When out on patrol she tended to stay to rooftops for ease of travel and to stay out of sight, so being at street level was disorienting. Still, she managed but felt horrible that the man had to keep aware enough to continue on as her guide. Perhaps it wasn’t all that bad. If he is able to direct me he hasn’t gone into shock yet.
Finally they arrived on the right street. Scholo was no longer needed to act as her guide as the lights of the street lit up each sign with ease as she hurried to brick store front. The lights inside were still on inside and lit up a cozy looking atmosphere of cushions, blankets, pillows and small booths.Iif it hadn’t been for the times being displayed on the door in front of her, she would have thought they were still open. It was a blessing that they weren’t. She couldn’t imagine the type of scene that would be created by them walking in and people getting a good look at them under bright lights. That certainly wouldn’t end well and probably would have resulted in Scholo being whisked away in an ambulance in the end.
With her hands quite full and not wanting to try and settle Scholomance down now that they were here, she mentally apologized to the owner as she gave the door a few swift kicks with her foot as a way of knocking. It certainly was loud enough. Surely someone had heard that?
“I hope you didn’t make a mistake coming here.” She said to Scholomance as she turned to gaze back into the Cafe through the door’s window. Again she gave a few quick kicks, knowing she was probably leaving some sort of print on the door, but her need was a bit too great to much care about dirt or street crud being left behind on the window.
“Anyone there?!” She yelled at the door. “Open up!”
Hetzerei
Ivynian
Quote for you since they are at Quenton's door. Connector for next RP. smile
