bakerstreet | minor injury meme.

minor injury meme.

You or your meme partner has been hurt, but don't worry! This time around it's not that bad. You can still limp your way out of this mess.

INJURIES.
1. Sprain/strain. How did you screw up walking?
2. Broken bones. Simple fractures still hurt.
3. Cuts. Hopefully one of you has a sewing kit.
4. Burns. Location, location, location. Let's pray this one isn't on your ass.
5. Concussion. No, they're most likely not holding up fifteen fingers.
6. Other. I'm not a doctor.

HOW'D IT HAPPEN.
1. Stupidity. You did this to yourself.
2. Accident. Is an unintentional attack still an attack?
3. Attack. Don't lie, you deserved it.
4. Other. It's probably still your own fault.

WHERE'D IT HAPPEN.
1. Home. Did you remember to invest in a first aid kit?
2. School/Work. This should be excellent for getting you out of doing stuff!
3. Outdoors. Predators like the smell of blood. Clean up asap.
4. In the water. Hopefully there aren't any sharks!
5. Other. Like a hospital. That'd be handy.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Yes, more like that...

[He can feel it working more now, less of a rush of magic that does nothing for his injury and will only tire Hawke out and more a gentle flow. Still more than might be needed but it's hard to tell when he's on the receiving end and Hawke is worrying about it already.

Anders strokes his thumb along the other man's jaw, a gesture meant to be soothing because he wants to calm him down or simply something he's wanted to do since they met and he can't resist any longer, he's not entirely sure.]

Concentrate on the parts where the hurt seems most centered as well. [He says quietly, straining to keep his voice even and coherent, knowing they'll likely both be in trouble if he doesn't.]

You can sort of... feel it there, use it to help you see where you have to focus most, then move to other areas. You don't want to heal bruises and leave the bigger wounds to bleed.

[He eases himself to take a few more breaths, finally finding just the right flow of mana so he isn't wasting his energy. Now that he's not panicking he can kind of see what he's talking about. There are edges to it there, beneath his hands- like raised peaks of heat that he can carefully smooth back down.]

There. I feel it.

[He leans a little closer as Anders smooths his thumb over him. It's a grounding feeling, something to concentrate on besides worrying. It reassures him that the other man is feeling well enough to do so. And it makes his chest hurt for some other reason he can't even bother to think about right now.]

Is that better?

Yes, that's better.

[He could vaguely feel the flow of blood slowing to something less serious at least, although with how dizzy he felt already, Anders knew he was going to need some time to recover properly. His eyes had closed, partially to help focus on what he was feeling with Hawke and partially from the pain and sheer tiredness weighing on him. If it weren't for the brush of his thumb against Hawke's jaw again, the other man might be forgiven for thinking Anders had fainted.]

Heal the worst of it, then we can move. See to the poison.

[There's the relief of a lifetime, Hawke's shoulders slumping a little out of their tense hold. For a moment, just a moment, he leans against the touch of his thumb as though nuzzling it back. Then he's back to concentrating on the healing.]

Elfroot, right? There's tons growing around here.

[If Anders isn't bleeding to death they'll have time to look. Hawke takes a slow breath and then focuses as Anders told him to, cinching up the wound and slowing the bleeding gradually until it stops. It's no Anders-level expert healing job, but it's good enough for now.]

Thank the Maker. I thought... [Well. It's obvious what he thought.]

Mmm. [It's hummed faintly, as now that the blood flow has stopped and Hawke doesn't need him to help talk him through healing, Anders finds he's having difficulty getting his eyes to open again.]

Elfroot. Few other things.

[Maker he's tired. The poison is a concern still, but one he's having difficulty focusing on. He has no idea what it might be either, so if elfroot is going to be enough or not, he can't say.]

Right. It'll at least help. There's embrium too...

[At least Hawke is familiar with the vegetation around here. He and Carver used to pick at it to fill requisitions for the Red Iron back in the day. At the very least, he can throw together a quick potion for him to take the edge off so they can make it back to Kirkwall together. He's no herbalist, but growing up in the Fereldan countryside does prepare one for a certain amount of mixing greens together.

Briefly, he brushes his hand over Anders' hair at the top of his head, soothingly.]

Stay here and rest a moment. I'll go put something together.

[He'll be safe enough... he looks like one of the dead bodies and Hawke isn't going out of sight.]

All right, love...

[He feels mostly asleep at this point, exhausted from the fight as well as his wounds, and the word simply slips out. Something he's wanted but never been willing to voice so plainly after his initial interests were apparently ignored. He'll likely feel embarrassed about it later and come up with an explanation to try and restore things to how they were between them, but for now Anders is content to simply rest while Hawke fetches the herbs.]

[Hawke is in the midst of backing away when the word just about stumbles his feet out from under him. He manages to avoid falling on top of Anders and instead rises up to his feet, staring in shock at him.

Did he say love?

He... well. Maybe he misheard. Or maybe he's misinterpreting it. Just like he was so sure he was misinterpreting all those signals the other mage had given him thus far. Little touches, softer tones, certain looks. Hawke was always sure he was just imagining things for his own little indulgent fantasy. Never that...

Maker. The man was lying here, poisoned, and here he was pining and panicking like a schoolboy. He shakes it off and heads out into the nearest copse of trees to find the herbs he needs.

He returns not five minutes later, already carefully grinding a few pieces of leaves together in a makeshift mortar and pestle (it's some rocks. He did his best.) He doesn't have anything to make a better potion out here in the middle of nowhere. This is beyond improvised, and he'll need better antidotes when they get back to the city, but it will help for now.

He kneels beside him and smooths his hand gently over his forehead, brushing back pieces of blond hair. Anders feels hot and clammy, but Hawke's fingers are cool from picking through dewy herbs. There is perhaps a little more affection in the gesture than he might usually provide.]

Anders? Wake up. We'll get you back to Kirkwall now.

[Anders stirs and opens his eyes slowly. He felt like he'd been drifting, partially asleep and partially awake and everything timeless around him. Even now, with opened eyes, he felt slightly disconnected from the world around him and he struggled to respond to Hawke's words.]

All right. [He said quietly.] Can you help me up? I don't know how well I'll manage on my own.

[He rather suspected that on his own he would simply fall over, or forget why it was important that he keep moving and simply stop and sit down again, neither of which would bode well for his chances.]

Any luck with the herbs?

[Hawke smooths his fingers over his forehead again and nods. Of course he'll help Anders up, if not carry him over his shoulder as far back to Kirkwall as he can get before he passes out from the strain. First, though, he answers Anders' question by holding up that small lump of smashed green herbs in a little piece of scrap paper.]

Yes. I've got some. I'm afraid this is the best I can do here.

[At least elfroot is fairly inoffensive-tasting by itself. The other herbs... sorry, Anders. Feel free to make fun of him for this later on.

He carefully helps Anders with the herbs, then kneels down and motions for him to loop his arms over his shoulders.]

Here. You can lean on me all you need to.

[Anders laughs weakly at the rather sorry state of the herbs but manages to get them down with minimum struggle, though a grimace that's as much from the horrible taste as the pain.]

I'll never complain about Darktown stew again.

[There's still a bitter aftertaste on his tongue as he puts an arm around Hawke's shoulders and, wincing, struggles to get to his feet.]

All right just... slowly. I think I can manage slowly.

Slow as it takes. That was a close one.

[Hawke hoists him up and supports him as best he can. The good thing about being an apostate growing up on a farm is he's much stronger than the typical mage, and able to easily cart Anders along with him.

The healer being in better spirits puts him in better spirits too... though not quite ready to ask him about that "love" bit from earlier.]

I'm sorry. I was careless in that fight.

Not your fault.

[Hawke couldn't be everywhere, just as Anders had his own limits as well. What happened could have happened to any of them, or worse. He was lucky that Hawke was here as well, that they hadn't been overwhelmed entirely, and who knew how many other things that could have happened that would be worse.]

I should have thought they'd start-- [He hisses, breaking off with a wince and his grip tightening on Hawke for a moment.]

Start using magebane. Something to stop mages anyway. They know you're here.

[Hawke making a name for himself and being a mage, it had both good and bad sides to it.]

[What are you talking about Anders? The fact Hawke is a mage is a well-kept secret! Yep! THE BEST-KEPT SECRET IN KIRKWALL.

He'll keep telling himself that, if only to avoid the considerable amount of terrified weeping he'd do otherwise.

He makes a strange face, a half-smile half-frown at Anders' comment. Then he lets out a breath and shakes his head, remembering what Anders said back there when he was losing consciousness. How frightened he had been that he was going to lose him back there once and for all, and how it all seemed to sort itself out for him in those few seconds with that one slipped word.

Still. He's a little beyond just forcing it out of the guy.]

I was so frightened. I thought I'd lose you right in front of me.

[Maybe he can take a roundabout route to it...]

[KEEP TELLING YOURSELF THAT, HAWKE.

Anders huffs something that's almost a laugh, except that it mostly makes him hurt worse and he stops immediately.]

Afraid you'll lose the only mage you know- [He hisses and takes another strained breath.] -who can use healing magic?

[Because Merrill wasn't any good at it and Hawke himself wasn't much better. Maker knew what kind of mess they'd be in if Anders wasn't particularly skilled in that area.]

Lucky for you I like being by your side.

[There was a note of something wistful there, difficult to catch in the pain lacing his voice, but there all the same.]

A fine thing to say to the mage who just healed you.

[Clearly a joke. He's smiling before the mock-outraged sentence is even over, hoisting Anders up a little higher on his shoulder to help them move a little easier.]

Good. I like you being by my side.

[There's a long pause there and Hawke spends a moment wondering if there is a good, subtle way to say what's on his mind.]

Anders, do you- think we could ever...?

[Nope. There isn't.]

[Anders gasps as he's pulled a little further up, any enjoyment he would have taken from the closeness lost to pain and dizziness. The pause gives him time to gather his thoughts again, which is important as it takes a moment for what Hawke asks to properly sink in.]

Us?

[He must be confused, the work of the poison or something else turning the words to what he wants to hear. It can't be what it sounds like.]

You never... I tried, I thought you knew how I...

[Instinctively he pulled away from Hawke, wincing as pain throbbed dully through his shoulder but still wanting to face the other man.]

Why are you asking me now? After all this time of ignoring how I feel?

You... mentioned something. As you were losing consciousness. But-

[To his credit, at least Hawke looks about as blindsided by Anders' question as Anders seems to be by his own.]

You tried? You thought I knew...?

[He's good enough to help turn Anders to face him, putting his hands on his shoulders to continue to support him upright.]

I didn't mean to put you on the spot. I just... I had no idea.

[Anders leans into the contact, though it's more from difficulty supporting himself right now than wanting the touch. In some ways this would be far easier if he could simply walk away from Hawke's hands, pretend as though what he wants isn't just within reach. It can't really be, after all, but he desperately wants to believe it is.]

I made a few... advances. You never seemed interested.

[He sounds hurt despite himself, tired as well, and he wishes they could skip to the end of this so he could know how he was supposed to feel again.]

I thought you were... being polite...

[Maker, he feels heavy, drained now, and Anders closes his eyes, sways slightly in place.]

I thought you didn't want to tell me you didn't feel the same.

[Let it never be said Hawke is skilled in manners of the heart. Or romantic advances. Or... lots of things, really.

He keeps him at arm's length until he sees him starting to sway, then makes a soft noise of concern and flops Anders forward into his arms, a makeshift embrace that also supports him.]

If I didn't feel the same, I'd tell you so.

[Which means... he has no idea what to say next.]

But I do.

[His good arm grabbed onto him automatically, fingers catching onto parts of that absurd outfit he wears, and Anders isn't sure if he's just worried about falling over from the poisons in his bloodstream still or trying to hold onto Hawke in case this is simply a hallucination.

He's fairly certain it might be the second when Hawke finishes speaking.]

I must have fainted. This can't...

[Eyes closed, he presses his face into Hawke's clothing. He'd like to say it smells good, familiar, but it's mostly sweat and blood and dirt and Maker is he tired.]

I suppose if that's the last thing I hear, I wouldn't mind dying now.

[It would be cute if Anders wasn't about to pass out through all of this.]

Maker, don't you even dare!

[He shuffles back a few steps to keep Anders standing, looking around as though realizing for the first time just how far they are out of Kirkwall. Exhaling with a huff, he holds Anders up with one hand over his shoulder as he carefully turns around.]

Here. Put your arms around my back. I'll carry you.

What?

[It takes him a moment to realise what Hawke is suggesting, and then the idea seems both sweet and absurd.]

You're going to give me a piggyback ride all the way to Kirkwall? Merrill will be jealous.

[Anders chuckles dryly.]

You loveable idiot... I'm sure I'll be fine. [The fact that his legs are giving out and he's already leaning heavily on Hawke is just a temporary problem.]

She can have her turn next time she almost bleeds out.

[Not taking no for an answer, he loops Anders' arms together and pulls him up onto his back. Hawke is a mage, but he's always been surprisingly built for one. That's what farm chores will do for a man.]

I used to swing around logs bigger than you to build fences in Lothering. I'll be just fine, you'll see.

Don't tell her that, she probably make it happen.

[Anders gasps as he's pulled up onto the other man's back, both from surprise and from pain at the action, but he's able to hold on anyway.]

Blighted stubborn... [His voice sounds slightly strained again, the slight energy and good humour fading from it.]

...how far are we?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

minor injury meme.

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