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ALWAYS THE WRONG MOVE - open - rhosmari - 08-31-2018 [align=center][div style="0px; width:450px; height:auto; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt; line-height:13px; color:black;"]The sound of labored breathing had been a friend of her’s for a while now. A constant sound that resounded in her ears and told her she was still alive and that things could have been worse after all being captured could always end up in death and she had been lucky. Whatever had happened to the others she didn’t know but her body and soul aches. The Meta was too much and to kill him they would have to take drastic measures but they had underestimated him. Why couldn’t she her this this right? Every time she thought she was right or has come up with an effective plan others got hurt and it would always be her fault. It weighted heavy on her now and she closed her piercing amber eyes as she struggled to take a step forward. Uneven steps spoke of injury and she didn’t know if her twisted back leg could be saved. Lacerations and blood that wet her black fur were seen across her chest and, face and back. Her paws had blood on them and she felt sick. Stumbling to a halt she breathed out roughly before trying to find some way to keep going. Something to hold on to but there was hardly anything and her eyes started to roll in their sockets. No, no, she couldn’t pass out here, not when she had come so far. Forcing herself to move forward the freelancer continued that familiar friend. The sound of harsh breathing lifting up into the night air as she slowly stumbled her way over the border. The smell was familiar and that was it as her mind had given up on staying consciously attentive to her surroundings. Her body bumped up hard against trees, causing her twisted back leg to shake and send waves of agony through her form but never did she cry out. She hadn’t when he stared down at her and made her watch him do it and she wouldn’t now. Her pace slowed for a brief moment as she cane out into the open field but she never did stop. Just continued on and on till the observatory was within her view. Her glazed over amber eyes focused on nothing as she slipped her way inside and to a room, one she used to share with someone so familiar to her before she just laid on the bed, blood leaking from her body to slowly stain the white mattress and sheets. Re: ALWAYS THE WRONG MOVE - open - cyantist - 08-31-2018 [align=center][div style="width: 540px; text-align: justify; font-family: helvetica; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 1.4;"][abbr=deeper in your heart, i'm your sweet russian roulette ♡]니 심장 더 깊은 곳 달콤한 너의 러시아어 룰렛 — CHOI HYOYEON / ASCENDANTS FIREBALL The smell of blood is one not unfamiliar, but it's always worrying when she doesn't know what it is. Blood from freshly caught prey is fine, the smell of charred flesh was comforting when it was from one of Tiamat's parents, but the unknown was something that drew her in. Hyoyeon follows the smell with Tiamat leading the way, the white dragon winding through the hallways of the observatory until they find the source. There is a stranger who seems to be bleeding on the mattress. She doesn't know who this woman in, but the fact that she must be in a dire state is apparently to one even as naive as Hyoyeon. Hyoyeon, having joined little less than a couple of days ago, does not know how to call. Medical knowledge has not and will not be one of her strong suits, so instead of trying to help deal with the blood loss, she screams "Help, someone is dying!" as loud as she can, and hopes that someone will come to help. Oh how it feels to be helpless. Re: ALWAYS THE WRONG MOVE - open - MirrorEdge - 08-31-2018
"Carolina?" Thea was already a bit desensitized to death, and blood, and glassy eyes looked over the serval for a moment or two after arriving at Hyoyeon's call, though she didn't have much medical knowledge, if any. "Moon? Imperia? It's Carolina!" She called, voice a bit lacking the same amount of urgency that Hyoyeon's tone held, but still, the dragon's call was plenty to give the medics a grasp of the situation.
After all, unlike Roy, Carolina was strong. So in Thea's mind, this meant she couldn't die. "She really should've informed us she was here, and injured. But she won't die. Imperia or Moon will help. Plus, she's strong." She murmured, as if that would help the situation. Template by Quill Re: ALWAYS THE WRONG MOVE - open - tori - 09-01-2018
"C...Carolina?" Alexander would have never, ever, gone into another's room without their consent, but surely no one would mind if there was an injury involved, right? After all, it would be worse to stay back and let them suffer because he didn't want to be rude, ironic, maybe. The pattern continued of having no medical knowledge with him as well, making three of them, but he knew to an extent that the bleeding needed to at least be stopped before anything else could be done. He didn't have any traditional methods of doing so, no bandages or anything. But there was the bed sheets, and for now he'd have to make use of those. Alex attempted to take the sheets and wipe at the wounds gently, trying to clear some of the blood, old and fresh. Obviously the back leg was the worst, but the medical team could handle that one. That wasn't his job. He winced, there was no real way to wrap these around the wounds, they weren't bandages after all. Her eyes were glazed over, not a good sign. "Carolina, can you hear me?" He checked to see if she was still conscious or not, maybe he could help her more if she was still awake.
♡♡♡
Re: ALWAYS THE WRONG MOVE - open - MOONMADE - 09-01-2018 [size=9pt] Moon was there as soon as he heard his name called. Golden ears perked for the voice until they lead him to a room he'd never been in before, but he wasn't hesitant like Alexander. The blood speckled sheets that he could see from outside left no time for him to knock twice, call a sweetly spoken, 'May I come in?'
Moon is silent in his hurry, quieter than usual with his freshly torn cheek. Worn out limbs lead the disheveled creature forward until he's standing at the side of the bed beside Carolina, spilling the contents of his herb bag out on the bed before him. He's got rags in his bag, but only a few for cleaning wounds and such, so he fastens his claws in the bed sheets and tears it strip from strip, to use to stop the bleeding. "Take it easy, Carolina, you'll be fine." comes his voice, hushed as he takes a flask in hand and quickly unfastens the lid. "This is gonna' sting a little bit, okay?" He warns, but wastes no time in spilling the flask over her fur, washing away the caked blood and the fresh blood in hopes of finding where the cuts actually lie. He holds his own rag to the larger wounds, pressing to stop the blood. He takes one glance at her mangled leg and sucks a breath in through his teeth, face wrinkling in sympathy. "That's gonna' have to wait until we can move you to the cleric's hide. Until then, drink some of this. I'll give you something for the pain, too." Re: ALWAYS THE WRONG MOVE - open - rhosmari - 09-01-2018 [align=center][div style="0px; width:450px; height:auto; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt; line-height:13px; color:black;"]So much noise, so much noise. The voices that bounced around in her head ached so much and she just wanted to rest and forget about what had happened. Her chest heaved with pained breaths as someone yelled, another voice spoke up that was vaguely familiar and someone else as well that asked something. What was it? She couldn't make it out and so she didn't try to think on it, no she just stared off into space, toes twitching slowly as she waited for sleep to claim her and her ears pulled forward just slightly. It was only when things started touching her and pain hit her lulling mind that she turned her head to the side and allowed a hiss to leave her throat, ears flattening. The sheets were torn and the area was shifted underneath her, twisted leg shifting and causing and unbearable pain that she just wanted to stop and when the liquid was poured over her wounds she lashed out. Her natural instinct and training kicking in to attempt to save her from whatever it was that was continue to hurt her. Her claws, so quick, came flying out to try and dig and slice through anyone that was close to her. Her pupils were dilated and she held a sense of fear to her as well. Her leg might be lost to her but she still had her life and she had to protect herself from whatever was happening to her. She as on autopilot, fight to survive and her pet bristled with her muzzle curled up to show teeth that were still stained with the blood of her enemy. She shifted and struggled to get up and back herself up in a corner, the only way she would be able to protect herself but she toppled over and pressed herself hard up against the headboard of the bed, gasping for air and claws digging into the mattress. Re: ALWAYS THE WRONG MOVE - open - ONISION. - 09-01-2018
[table] [/td][/tr][/table][/td][/tr][/table][tr] [td][/td][/tr][tr][td] [/td][/tr][/table][table][tr][td][table][tr][td] ♦ - Onision wasn't one for watching others bleed. Blood made him crazy, made his head spin in ways that it shouldn't. Blood was dangerous for him to be around, mainly because of him being a vampire. He could control himself, but he still held that hesitance about him as he walked into the scene, nose crinkling up as his pupils narrowed into deadly slits. He made no move to move too close to Carolina, merely keeping his distance from her with his eyes on Alexander. Stay calm, stay calm. "There's a damn food source for both of us right there. Why are you not taking the chance?" That nearly familiar voice rang out in his head, husky and rough in tone. Oni flinched at the voice, outwardly feeling his ears push against his cranium. She isn't food. She's a clanmate. Oni shot back to Asy, rolling his single blue iris before he watched everything go down. [align=center]YOU'RE HARD TO HUG ONISION MIKAELSON-FOLIE tough to talk to, and i never fall asleep! © ceilidh
Re: ALWAYS THE WRONG MOVE - open - MOONMADE - 09-01-2018 [size=9pt]Her claws latch in his newly stitched up cheek and promptly tear it back open. With it comes the same agony he'd experienced only a few days ago, and it burns at the side of his face until, just as quick as the wound had been reopened, his body decides it's too much and the side of his face goes numb. A torn roar escapes his throat, and he curses, "Fuck!" recoiling violently from the serval. A mirror image of her, Moon presses himself up against the wall opposite to the headboard. His paw trembles as he holds it to the side of his face, breathing heavy.
It seems neither of them have had a good last few days. The lion is equally as on edge as Carolina, and it shows. "What the fuck? Relax! We're trying to fucking help you!" he snaps, all prior softness having evaporated. He stays there, chest heaving, and stares the serval down for the moments it takes him to calm his thundering heart, the panic that made his throat tight. The red on the bed isn't his own doing, and the stained set of teeth bared his way aren't his mothers, so he finds it, somewhere, in himself to calm down. At least enough to speak. He tries and fails not to sound on edge. There's blood trailing, thick, down his neck. "You're okay, alright? Wherever you disappeared to, you're not there anymore. I need you to get a hold of yourself so we can fucking help you. "Everyone give her some space. Get out of the room unless you're needed. Where the hell is Imperia?" Re: ALWAYS THE WRONG MOVE - open - BASTILLEPAW - 09-01-2018 [align=center][table][tr][td][/td][td][/td][td][/td][td][/td][/tr][/table]
BASTILLEPRISONER AURELIUS BY THE GRACE OF THE FIRE AND THE FLAMES
These days it felt like everyone was dying all around him, and it rang with an ominous familiarity. There was Echo's curse crawling across his skin as he went through the motions on autopilot, forcing himself to accept the loss of Margy and Suite (he knew it was for the better but he could not always hold onto that knowledge or believe in it), followed so promptly by Roy, Moon's injury, Thea getting sick, Oni's fucking issues, and now this. Bastille was fairly certain that he could not turn one way without running into someone slowly deteriorating right in front of him. There was more than just the memories Echo bore pulling at him, however: there was something more, itching under the surface. He felt acutely as if he had been here before, and sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night unable to remember where he was, Hazel's name dying on his tongue. He couldn't claim to have expected any better, but he could admit that he had let himself hope, a little bit. Convinced himself that he might not bring them all down with him. And here they were. He hadn't seen Carolina in weeks, had given up searching for her or Wash; they'd likely picked up and took off, possibly to search for their friends, possibly to (unlikely) go home. The sudden flare of her aura in the Observatory was a curiosity, but he didn't get to wonder at it for long before there was an outburst of movement and shouting. Bast's gaze was cold as it scanned over the situation briefly, his steps only stopping for a moment on the threshold of the wound. He stares at Moon and feels at once incredibly tired, but he keeps coming forward anyways, ignoring his yell for everyone to leave. He agreed, but he also thought Moon needed to leave, too. Which he said, bluntly, [b]"Moon, get out of here; you need to take care of yourself, here." His attention flickered to Carolina, her terror and fight response washing over him in waves, trickling down his spine. The empath considered for a moment before he was pushing back against her emotions, coaxing them to mellow and soothe to something more calming, the subtle drag of emotional manipulation trying to calm her. "Let me see, Car," he said, voice low and even as he took a step towards her, evidently unconcerned with the prospect of her lashing out. [b]"Okay? It's Bast. You're home." [B]ASTRAL SERAPH — THE ASCENDANTS — [color=#e2e2e2]TAGS — [color=#e2e2e2]MOODBOARD — [color=#e2e2e2]PLAYLIST |