storyseeker | IC Contact (Hadriel)

someone or someTHING attacked me on my way back home

stay inside, ok?

WHAT? Are you okay?

it looks worse than it is but i'm almost home

[He knows it's a non-answer. He doesn't want her to freak out when she sees him.]

can you get that first aid kit we macgyvered?

[That's only minorly reassuring.]

Okay. What are you going to need from it?

celox powder, gauze, tape, whatever antiseptic we've got

[At least he's only a few floors away now, leaving a bloody smear on the wall.]

Got it.

[She's already moving quickly, knowing that it's probably bad, if he's willing to admit he needs first aid at all.]

[Good call.

When Nate finally nudges their door open to sag against the jamb, he doesn't paint the prettiest picture. Five puncture wounds in his chest are seeping red into his once semi-clean shirt, and a hand is clapped tightly over the right side of his neck. The wound is no longer pulsing blood but there is enough that's poured down his collarbone to be visually arresting, at best.]

Heeeeeeeyyy honey.

[When she sees him, Elena's reaction falls short of spectacular—she's worked too hard on self-control for too long to fall apart like that. But the shifts in her expression, from shock to dismay and fear, make it clear what she's thinking.]

Jesus, Nate. [A second passes as she regains her bearings and then she's going to him, gauze in hand. He's definitely going to need that first.] What the hell happened?

[By now an aficionado of Elena's facial expressions Nate offers an apologetic grimace of his own in return, knowing that this isn't a state in which she likes or wants to ever find him. At least this time it wasn't even his fault, not that it's much comfort when he looks as bad as he does.

He sways inside, shutting the door behind him.]

Someone jumped me in an alley. They were fast, like- [He grunts, pulling a chair out from their table and collapsing into it, gesturing at his chest.] Like those things in El Dorado. Got me here, and uh-

[There is the unmistakably sticky sound of skin being pried from skin after adhering with coagulated blood as Nate peels his hand free of his neck.]

They bit me.

[He doesn't look great and oh, he way he moves inside their place looks even worse. How much blood can a man lose before it's dangerous? She knows from experience that he can bleed quite a bit and be all right, but how much has he lost already?

Her stomach roils at the thought of more of those creatures, but she focuses on helping Nate sit and getting a look at his wounds.]

Bit you? [With the comparison to the El Dorado creatures, that makes her think of something animalistic that might try to rip his throat out, but as bad as this looks, it's not that bad. His throat is still in place, for starters.] Jesus, this is going to need disinfected. How did you get away?

[Nate knows from personal experience that a man can lose about three or four pints before falling unconscious - maybe more, depending on how fucking stubborn you are to remain functional - but adrenaline makes you bleed faster. He can feel himself crashing as the need to survive long enough to make it back here crumbles around him.]

I think it expected easier prey.

[He shifts tiredly, picking at his collar. Morosely, Nate adds:]

...man, this was my good shirt.

[It's a lousy joke, but the fact that he can joke at all is a good sign. At least, she hopes he's joking about the quality of his shirt; if not, she'll be tempted to finish him off herself.]

You can go around shirtless for all I care as long as you're still here. That might even be a bonus.

[It's a terrible joke-not-joke of her own, because a chuckle means it's not really serious, she didn't really nearly lose him. Not that she can manage one—it's more like a lopsided smile as she dabs at one of the bites.]

[It's not entirely a joke. There is a precious deficit of good shirts in this town.]

Don't tempt me. It gets hot out there in the afternoon.

[His weak laughter trails off at the end, interrupted by a hiss as a cotton swab presses to one of the less substantial cuts. Elena isn't trying to be a butcher but he already feels like he's been sliced into stewing meat, and being minced further isn't on the docket.]

...but seriously, you probably need to cut this shirt off of me. I don't think I can raise my arm without making my neck start bleeding again.

This is ruining one of my personal fantasies.

[She grumbles as she takes his hand, presses it firmly against the swab where hers just was, and lets him hold it as she moves to retrieve a pair of scissors they'd scrounged up. They aren't particularly sharp, but they'll get the job done. Still, she's careful to avoid getting the blades too close to his skin, glancing up periodically to see how he's doing.]

If the thing that did this is still out there, other people are in danger.

Sorry.

[He says and means it, because the situation could be a lot sexier than it is. Bleeding all over your wife kind of puts a damper on the mood.

As Elena begins to cut the shirt open, more claw marks are brought to light: jagged and slashing over his chest and stomach, scraping up his arms and shoulders, as if from an animal that didn't want to let go and would have preferred he withstand as much damage as possible before keeling over. Nate hisses through his teeth as she peels the fabric away from his skin.]

It's definitely still out there. Hurt, though. And easily deterred by someone putting up a fight.

You can make it up to me later.

[Ha. She'll be doting on him for a while because of this, whether he likes it or not.]

Then we need to warn people. [She tries to be gentle but thorough as she begins cleaning the newly revealed wounds, swallowing her discomfort at the sight. She's seen worse, he's dealt with worse. There's no way she can avoid hurting him entirely, but better he feels it now than deal with infection later.] God. I didn't think we had to worry about vampires here too. Or really inefficient cannibals.

Edited 2018-05-03 19:02 (UTC)

[Not that Nate minds the doting, but he's almost always impatient for things to heal and tends to push himself more than he should. This isn't news to Elena, of course, so he fully expects to be marched back inside for less strenuous activity for the next couple of days.]

Vampire might be more accurate. The teeth were...

[He trails off with a grimace. She can see the handiwork on his neck, anyway.]

[She'll tie him to their bed if she has to. And not in a fun way. Ideally, they'll compromise with him just taking it easy.]

Yeah. I know.

[She sighs and closes her eyes for a moment before giving his arm a squeeze.]

We've faced worse than than this before—back home and here. We'll handle it.

[For both of their sakes, Nate will try to take things as slowly as possible until the cuts start to scab over. On the upside: cool new scars!

He knows that's not really an upside.]

Good thing I got you here.

Yeah, it is.

[She should probably get him a clean shirt and something to drink, after the blood loss, but she stays where she is, leaning in closer and taking comfort in his presence.]

You know it's the same for me, right? I'm lucky to have you with me.

[Here, in their world—she's not really thinking about one or the other. Maybe it's overly serious of her, but with him apparently having another near-death experience not so long after they nearly lost each other for other reasons, it feels necessary to say it.]

Mmh.

[He hums, and a hand tacky with drying blood curls around her elbow, squeezing gently. It's as much movement as he feels like he can manage now, with the adrenaline cooling and the air tasting less like iron and more like whatever shampoo she used in her hair last night.]

Yeah. [It helps to hear these things. He knows he would have killed to hear someone say that to him, once upon a time. He knows he's lucky to hear her say it now.] I love you.

Love you too, cowboy. Always and forever.

[Hearing these words, saying them back—it doesn't provide them any real protection in a place like this. They're not magic words, even if sometimes they feel like it. But they mean something all the same.

She gives it a moment longer, letting them both feel the closeness, before she moves to stand.]

You sit back and relax now. I've got it from here.

[Time to get some fresh water to clean his hands and see to whatever comes next. Burning his shirt, maybe.]

IC Contact (Hadriel)

3/16 text; this time in the right place THANKS MOBILE

I should probably link both

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