bakerstreet | Patch You Up

Patch You Up

Patch You Up
shipping meme

Let's hope you're not squeamish. Even if you are, you're going to have to power through it, because your crush, significant other, lover, or fellow practitioner in romantic tension has been battered and bruised. The degree of severity, from a minor scrape to a life-threatening injury, can vary, as can the reason - they may even be hurt because of you. If that's the case, you have all the more reason to tend to their wounds with your own two hands.

No one can take care of them like you can.

Bust out the bandages, even if they don't want you to worry over them or can't believe that anyone would. Though it's not your intention, if you're genre savvy, you may know that your best Florence Nightingale may be the final push if you're not together-together.

That's assuming if you both don't pass out from botched first aide before any of that happens. Don't forget that a kiss to make it better is critical!

Comment with your character, preferences, and the role you'd like to play - the injured or the attending. Also, would you like a pre-established relationship? One just on the cusp of becoming realized? Etc?
Reply to others.
Thread.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(Also comes in a modern AU flavor and can go either way depending on pairing, M/F and is now in her 20s)

[ m/m preferred. either role. ]

{If you're interested, maybe drop into his apartment injured, and can't go to a hospital for obvious reasons. Bud is either a total stranger, or he knows Selina but doesn't know she's Catwoman.}

[ Likely to be the attending one. I'm okay with either it being their first meeting or having assumed cr! ]

((Either role, shipping isn't a must, PSX or WotL names.))

[by some miracle, it is ramza who finds isilud injured at riovanes, and not alma.

are there words to describe the scene, other than a massacre? if there are, ramza does not know them, and hopes that he never will. the son of house beoulve steps grimly over dead knights templar, trying not to step in their blood despite the fact that his greaves are already dyed a gory crimson. much of it is belias-wiegraf's, from only moments prior. even so, ramza does not like to douse himself in the blood of the fallen.

a groan from nearby catches his attention, and he whirls around, hoping to find a survivor; sure enough, against the wall a few paces behind him, he finds brown hair and a bloodied face. vaguely, he remembers the man's name — it is isilud, folmarv's son, with whom he had exchanged blows and words at orbonne monastery, when the knights templar abducted alma.

none of this matters to ramza now, as he kneels to isilud's level, and reaches out to staunch the bleeding only to find that there's so much of it he doesn't even know where to begin.]

Isilud! Ser — Ser Isilud. Do you yet breathe?

Edited (...four edits later, i am so sorry) 2016-05-20 02:52 (UTC)

[ The screams, gods, there is no end to them. Again and again, the sounds pierce through the air, a symphony of death, striking him to the marrow. His father is no more. The demon that wore Folmarv Tengille's face rampages, slaughtering men, women, any in its path, and he must bar its way, this cannot go on, but every scrap of strength has left his limbs. It should be a simple thing to stand and take up his blade.

After an eternity, silence descends upon Riovanes. It is a stillness that fails to allay his fears. Get up, he urges his legs, stubborn in throwing himself against the cage around him, fashioned by the pain racking his body, though he has lost count of his attempts to move even a hair's breadth away from the wall against his back. If he could but find purchase there to pull himself to his feet, if his eyes would obey him and open--

Agony rattles through his skull. His ears catch a feeble noise, a moan — no, it spills from his own lips. And then a voice chases it, not his own, distantly known to his mind. Ramza Beoulve. The surge of recognition is a beacon, guiding him through the thickening fog veiling his senses, and he strains to seize it tightly, his lone piece of driftwood to keep himself afloat against the pull of a leaden weariness threatening to claim him. Their differences matter little now. ]

Ramza... [ Again he tries to move beyond a twitch of his fingers, to clear his sight. ] It is as you said, we ought have listened... The Lucavi, we've no time to lose--

Soft, now. We've no time even for regrets.

[so isilud is conscious enough to speak. good. that means he can still be saved, by most standards, and ramza would like very much to be able to do so.

he's had experience nursing wounded comrades, but never wounded enemies. still, ramza is not deterred by this as he removes a tuft of phoenix down from a pouch at his hip, crushing it in his hands and reciting an all-too-familiar prayer. he's never thought about what good the prayer really does for anybody. it's standard procedure for battlefield physicking, as taught by the gariland military akademy. some things never change.

from there, well — he has to see what he's working with, so again from his medicine kit he removes a soft, ragged cloth, purposeless save for its ability to clean wounds. this ramza uses to mop up the mess, and gradually, the blood pooled over isilud's chest begins to take shape. ramza knows, from the injuries, what happened: first, a blow to the chest — something with claws, strong enough to tear through plate and chain — and second, some kind of head trauma. perhaps the initial blow knocked isilud against the wall, or he was struck first and thrown against it afterward.

lucavi. of course. ramza knows, from looking at the injuries of the dead knights around them. the claws of a mere beast cannot tear through men like steel through water.

that said — ramza is an idealist, of sorts, but a pragmatic one, and if isilud dies under his care (which is a very real possibility), there are things that ramza would like to know before that happens.]

Alma... Where is Alma? Did your father take her?

[please, he thinks. please, let her be not among these fallen.]

[ They've no time for aught but the fate of all Ivalice. Even so, regret seldom heeds reason. Though the slightest movement is impossibly taxing, Isilud shakes his head, forces his hand to grope about blindly for the weight of Ramza's as it dabs at his wounds. He means to stay Ramza; Ivalice cannot wait while they tarry here to tend a worthless fool — that creature was not his father, but its rebuke held truth, he knows. In the face of the evil he witnessed, all his training proved useless. And perhaps there were signs that escaped his notice, and had he thought to look and question, he could have acted sooner.

Even now, his imagination balks to contemplate the notion of turning against his father. ]

Leave it...

[ Ramza is surprisingly gentle, considering that he has his sister's abductor before him, finding it in him to utter a prayer when there can be only one thing at the forefront of his thoughts. (Ramza's sister, the poor girl should have come to no harm.) Isilud's hand trembles with the effort of the battle he fights to hold fast to his diminished reserves of strength. Sinking back down, it lands heavily beside him, the clang of metal hitting the stone floor shattering the ghostly quiet of these halls.

It seems long ago that his own sister would sit with him after they sparred, teasing him for his skill in bruising himself a rainbow of colours whenever he mistimed his leaps, even as she stepped in to set his shoulder. Suddenly he fears himself teetering on the brink of weeping, dragged under by a wave of frustration and shame, of despair. Ramza's sister is on his conscience, and Meliadoul, Meliadoul remains in the dark as to the change that has taken their father, and he has no hope of reaching her. ]

The... the dungeons. The mage who took us prisoner let her be... Leave me, go to her, Ramza.

[ Surely those cells went untouched. ]

[ramza shakes his head grimly. it is not an indication of refusal to leave isilud's side; rather, it is a sign of his disappointment at hearing isilud's words.]

...My companions already conducted a search of the castle dungeons. They found naught but corpses and empty cells. She must be elsewhere.

[all the same, his reaction to seeing isilud's hand fall to the floor is immediate: he reaches out, takes the knight's hand, squeezes it gently. there is something reflexive in his touch. ramza thinks, as isilud does, of his own family. he remembers — his bedridden father, sunlight caught in silvered hair, the hundreds of times he watched barbaneth beoulve try and fail to raise his hand from his bedsheets. isilud's gauntlet is cold in his hand. he wishes, vaguely, that it was not so.

there's just one thing that bothers ramza about isilud's wounds.

belias didn't have claws.

which means whatever did this to isilud was another demon entirely, and it might still be stalking riovanes castle.

he has to warn his men. he has to recall his search parties. but ramza is not about to leave a man to die in a room already full of his dead comrades, and it is with this conviction that he abandons the fruitless task of applying pressure to the knight templar's gaping chest wound; instead, he removes a potion from his waist-pouch, a potent one, but still nothing compared to the attentions of an experienced medic. inwardly, ramza curses himself for not having the foresight to take a white mage with him.]

Can you lift your head at all? [with his eyes lowered, ramza manages to uncork the potion bottle with one hand — his free hand — then proffers it to isilud's lips, as best as he can.] If you could drink but a drop of this...

Elsewhere... But they took the Stones we found in her keeping.

[ He would not hold it against Ramza to abandon his efforts to stall his once-enemy's bleeding out, now that Isilud has nothing of use to share. Escaped or taken, his sister's whereabouts are unknown to them both. Yet the grip around Isilud's fingers does not loosen, be it a gesture to ground him or to offer a man some comfort in his last moments, kindness that he hardly deserves, that Ramza inexplicably gives even though these are precious seconds better spent elsewhere.

He isn't ready to die. For the sake of this land's future, he would lay down his life if he must, he'd thought, but to lie here broken, the pillars of his faith in ruins, does Ivalice no good. Far less nobly, he feels small, afraid, enough to admit to himself that he is thankful to have another's company.

Perhaps it is the Stone, Pisces. Perhaps it will take him down his father's path.

Weakly, he clasps Ramza's hand to tug it closer and bring it to the pocket concealing this piece of auracite, overlooked before it too could fall into more hands unfit to carry it. He may yet have this chance to do one thing right. Never mind that breathing alone has become a laborious task, every breath an aftershock akin to claws shredding his flesh, and he has no choice but to pause partway to getting a request past his tongue, gasping for air, hissing through gritted teeth on the heels of a colourful oath.

The cool mouth of a bottle touches his lips. A potion — common sense keeps their supply well stocked for the road, and good sense might have prevented his and Alma's capture. In answer, he tips his head back, fumbling for the bottle with his other hand. The gods willing, he won't spill its contents down his collar. ]

Radical Edward | Cowboy Bebop (post anime)

levi ackerman, ATTACK ON TITAN.

Selina Kyle/Catwoman | DC Comics | OTA

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Saya Masaki | Neon Sign Amber | m/m

Izlude Tingel/Isilud Tengille | Final Fantasy Tactics

some weird au, i don't know, i have not canon reviewed in twenty years

It's all good, it's been a while since I last rped from FFT. I am so excited about this thread. :D

...i'll try not to edit four times in a row again

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Rey | SW:TFA | OTA

Ciel Phantomhive | Black Butler/Kuroshitsuji | OTA

Kobra Kid | Danger Days

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Mikan Tsumiki | Danganronpa 2 | OTA

KAGEHIRA MIKA | enstars

dave strider | homestuck | ota

Chloe Price | Life is Strange

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