bakerstreet | YOU WANT, UH, A TISSUE? MAYBE SOME SOAP? NEW CLOTHES?

YOU WANT, UH, A TISSUE? MAYBE SOME SOAP? NEW CLOTHES?

COVERED IN BLOOD MEME

So you're a bit of a mess. Or you're stumbling upon a mess. What happened? There's blood everywhere, what the hell? Is it your blood, animal blood, the blood of someone you murdered? Hell, maybe you ran out of tampons. Anyway, no matter how it got there, you're (or someone you know is) covered in blood. Can it be explained away? If not, is someone going to prison? The hospital? Going to die of blood loss? Get in trouble for playing catch with the blood bags? Man, we don't know. The point is you have a mess to clean up. Or roll around in gleefully, you nasty fucks.

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[ The air outside seems to help but only marginally, and if he thinks to press Jericho for a better answer about the dead vampire, he doesn't manage to get it out of his mouth. In fact, he doesn't care that much, bracing himself against the side of the vehicle as he looks around and continues to smother the intense feeling of vomiting despite how much he really, really wants to. Egil can't pin down where they are exactly, if they're still even within city limits, though he also can't seem to recognize his own reflection in the glass when he rests his head on the car and stares at it either. His skin is dark with drying blood, and his clothes are ruined. ]

I just want to get out of here. [ His voice doesn't sound as slurred this time, just exhausted, and his fingers go back to his neck, conscious of the slight ache there. If he's being honest, he feels disgusting, and it really has nothing to do with being covered in so much red. Egil shivers, wanting to curl in on himself. ] How do you feel? [ It's a bit sharp, pushing up as if he suddenly needs to keep watch and make sure nothing is actually going to come after them while Jericho gets the car open. The abrupt weight of it nearly causes his knees to buckle, and a lengthy pause follows. ] I'm not going to throw up.

[ Why he feels the need to point that out now, he doesn't know, but he won't. At least, not until they're somewhere a little safer and everything catches up to him. ]

She couldn't help but flinch as the knife swung in her direction again, Kate's eyes on the blade rather than Seth or the body that lay beyond, trying to stop her mind from replaying every second of what had happened on repeat by forcing her chin out, the defiant jut more for her own sake than it was for Seth.

The knife sailed through the air and caused Kate to inhale sharply, the struggle for control playing out across her face and she could feel her heart pounding hard against her ribcage, as if determined to crawl free from her body and find somewhere to hide. Anywhere that didn't have a body they'd need to find a way to deal with, that didn't keep trying to pull her back into a memory that she was already, desperately trying to erase.

A part of Kate knew that this was Seth's way, that instead of saying the comforting thing or the right thing, his emotions made him spin out of control; his fear, his worry, his relief even, coming out in ways that were more confronting than they were a comfort. She'd seen it when he'd been worried about Richie, had experienced herself in the past but as much as she understood what Seth was doing, there was a part of Kate that wanted to scream at him, to be louder, angrier, just to make it stop.

He stepped in and while she didn't pull away, the tension ramped up in response, the 'I'm not fucking done' seeing Kate brace for another barrage of words, but there was a shift in the air between them and Kate allowed her gaze to fall on his once more, hesitation seeing her hold her ground until he disarmed her with one simple word. Please.

Still, she struggled to make her legs work but not from fear of him. It was easier to keep the facade of control in place when there was some distance between them. If he softened now... That one word, however. Please. It was probably the first time Kate had ever heard it pass his lips without the attached note of sarcasm and while time appeared to stretch out for an eternity in that moment, she forced her fingers to uncurl, dropped her arms from her chest, pulled in a shuddering breath and finally closed the distance between them.

Her wide eyes went to her sword first, then to the Elf's face. The child was disoriented and terrified, and now that she had finally stopped running, she found she could not move. She felt weak and dizzy, but somehow, she held her ground and managed to stay standing on her own two feet.

"I...." She seemed to struggle to find the words she wanted to say. "They..."

She swallowed hard, and took a deep breath, then another, trying to stop trembling. "They're gone."

Working on it. [ The lock remains stubbornly stuck, a tingling, needle-like sensation plaguing his hands where he'd dislocated his joints earlier to escape his shackles. He has only a vague sense of where they are, but that's easily taken care of once they have transportation. He wedges the knife deeper and searches for the lock mechanism with the tip. ] I'm fine. I'm not the one that was bitten by a vampire. Your blood is in much higher demand than mine.

[ The lock abruptly pops open, and Jericho dives beneath the driver's seat and tears out the cache of wires in the next second. The last thing that needs to happen is for both of them to get picked up for car theft while covered in inordinate amounts of blood. ] Get in the other side. [ He would see him there, but time is an issue. He's busy trying to remember which wires to strike together. It takes several failed attempts, but within a few minutes the car rumbles to life, and once he rights himself and pushes his unruly hair out of his eyes, he checks to make sure Egil hasn't passed out on him. ] You can't throw up in the car with me. I have hard lines, too.

"Who is gone?"

And how far away, and how long ago, had it happened? The girl looked like she must have run for a long time.

"Everyone."

She felt as if her entire world had been taken in one awful night. Tauriel was young, and only knew of life with her little family. She had run, and kept running, because that was what her father told her to do, and she did not stop because she did not know what else to do.

"What should I do now?" She did not know this stranger, but she was completely lost and alone. Advice from an unknown Elf was better than nothing, she supposed.

Edited 2017-02-26 18:29 (UTC)

[Getting rid of the blood helps a lot. It won't instantly make him better, and he doesn't have much energy to shift his position from where and how he's put down on the couch, but... it's no longer choking him, and the miasma lingering clings more to the man himself - since he was part of the fight - rather than tearing directly into him.

Giving the little dog something of a tired, lopsided grin, Rokuta still feels hot and achy, but it's not getting worse, anymore. That's all he can ask for right now. Well, he could also ask for Yokuhi wrapped around him, but she knows well enough that it might be a bad idea to materialise in here, even if she, too, wants to do so - it'd startle the dogs, if nothing else, and they don't need that.

Looking up when Ragnar comes back, Rokuta nods and finding he can, at least, help somewhat to wriggle himself out of the towel and wrap himself up in the blanket. It still makes him exhausted, though, which is... frustrating to say the least.]

... Thanks. For getting me out of there.

[And for the rest too, of course.]

[ Egil doesn't need told a second time.

While Jericho is trying to start the car, he fumbles his way to the front passenger side door, glad it doesn't take much effort to pull it open. His knees threaten to give again, dragging himself into the seat and promptly shutting the door so be can lean against it. He's fighting hard not to close his eyes and sleep, rolling his face away from the window and glancing at the sticky red print that his cheek leaves behind before turning his attention to Jericho. Egil thinks about reaching out for him, maybe pushing some of his hair out of the way so he can get a better look at him, but he grimaces instead, breath stuttering. ] I'm not going to throw up. [ He repeats it with a bit more resolve this time, pressing his palms against his forehead to stop whatever headache is threatening to settle in from the blood loss and the pain in his shoulder. ] Just go.

[ Because whatever the case, he'll pass out long before he's actually sick, and there needs to be a lot more space between them and where they are now. Besides, if he decided he needed to, hed just roll the window down and do it that way; there's already too many smells in this cramped space that Egil's sure Jericho isn't having a good time with anyway. After a moment or two, he slips a little lower in his seat and finally reaches out to rest his hand on whatever part of Jericho he can touch, needing the solidity of his presence to keep him from going crazy. Maybe that panic is finally starting to hit him. ] Don't let me pass out with all this blood on me.

[ He has his doubts about the vomiting situation, but if he insists. The glove compartment of the unfamiliar car holds nothing of value, but there's a pack of scented baby wipes, which he promptly tosses at Egil. If his request is to not let him pass out, Jericho intends to keep him busy. He can already see the heavy set of Egil's eyelids and feel the slackness in his hand when he reaches out to rest it on Jericho's arm. He pulls out one of the wipes and gets to work on Egil's face, cleaning away the drying blood until he can see his skin again. Then he puts a fresh wipe in Egil's hand. ] Try and clean yourself up.

[ That's as much tending as he can manage, because they need to go. He checks his mirrors and sets off down the road, consulting his phone just once before deciding on their destination. ] Half an hour. Stay with me until then and I'll get you some clean clothes. How's the shoulder?

Dean, of course, manages to totally misinterpret the statement.

"What, something you haven't run into before?" That's not unheard-of--even someone who's been around as long as Cas has hasn't seen everything--but it's unusual enough to raise his eyebrows. "Can you describe it? We might be able to turn something up in the Bunker archives.

"How come you didn't give me a call?" The question's not reproachful, really, just a little surprised.

Castiel drew back a little, head tilted to the side. "There is no need to run. My truck is securely parked."

He furrowed his brow slightly, uncertain. "What?"

Cas draws back, just slightly, and considers Dean thoughtfully. He does try to recall what had happened but it's... just gone. There are flashes of dim memory, just enough to suggest that something happened.

To be frank, it's quite alarming.

"I cannot. I... I don't remember."

Castiel's brow furrowed in return. "There is no need to rush. We are in a secure place." Sort of; close enough, he supposes.

He stared at the man, confused and not certain he was meant to understand what had just happened. "Who are you?"

It's not long after said thud that Paul appears, crouching next to Daryl and resting his forearms on his knees. "Damn." His eyes flick over the walker's corpse, brow furrowed. A couple of years younger than Carl and Enid at most and from the looks of it, not dead very long at all.

"Someone kept that kid alive this long." There's no guarantee of any lingering proximity due to the nature of walkers, but a kid being alive this long implies community, implies someplace that at least used to be marginally safe.

"All the other ones around here were as old as all the rest." Just one. Just this kid.

There was a moment when Cas just looked at Adam, brow furrowed and trying to find anything that would suggest why he was here -- and not in the cage. "I am Castiel."

He snorted, burying his head in his hands. "I don't understand..."

[Either a traumatized rabbit coated in blood, his own or an accidental first kills, or the heart attack of finding someone else covered in blood. Both options are fun.]

Edited 2017-02-27 03:27 (UTC)

[Rihan had been so happy ever since Saya agreed to move in with him. It had been over a century since he lived with someone he loved. He had missed it. Missed to be able to go to sleep, cuddled up close to a warm body. Missed all of those small silly things that made life that much more worth living. He had been a lot more happy with Saya around.

But of course there had to be something to disturb their happy, simple life. Being youkai yakuza meant that other groups at times tried to take the Nura's spot as the strongest. Most groups had the decency to keep civilians out of it all, but the most recent group played by dirty tactics. Rihan could tell that it was because they actually wasn't very strong. There were a few strong members, but as a group they were lousy. Why he just send out warnings instead of taking care of the problem properly.

That however only made them cocky and made them act even more rashly and illogical. To the point where they did what no one would advice. They took Saya. No one messed with the love of the Nura bosses and got away with it! Rihan fumed with rage at the news, but kept himself composed enough to mobilize everyone. There would be hell to pay if even one hair was out of place on Saya.

Getting into their base wasn't hard. It was getting to the leader and to Rihan much more importantly, Saya that proved difficult. Those few strong members proved to be worthy adversaries making them split up in smaller groups in order to press forward. That led to Rihan arriving where Saya were kept on his own.

Seeing that his beloved had been hurt made his self control fly straight out of the window. Or more accurately the wall behind him as his rage made his demonic powers to explode. The whites of his eyes going black and his golden irises glowing. A dark mist surrounding him, making him look that much more menacing.]

How dare you harm him?

[His voice was dark and cold, filled with his anger. In a flash, Rihan moved to attack the fool that had stolen is Saya, swinging his blade wildly. There was no technique behind the swings, him being far too angry to care. The bigger youkai took advantage of that, using the openings he left to sink sharp claws into him. Rihan didn't even reacted to the pain, just keeping on blindly attacking until the other laid dead and limp at his feet. The fight had left him a mess, bleeding and with his clothes torn, huffing for breath.]

Hurts.

[ The scent of the wipes is nothing short of disgusting, but he manages not to do much besides make a face, having pressed into Jericho's touch as he'd cleaned some of the blood off. He's really starting to feel out of it if he thinks any of this is going to make him feel better somehow. Or heal faster. Now, left with one of his own wipes and an order to attempt making himself look presentable, he idly scrubs at his fingers and watches the outside slide past them. It's not fast, but to his tired eyes, they might as well have been traveling at light speed. ] It's fine. [ A mumble, and Egil picks at the hem of his shirt, frowning at the blurriness of it. ] I don't know if I can stay awake for half an hour though.

[ That's asking a lot of him. Don't throw up in the car. Don't pass out. He mumbles under his breath, forgetting the wipe and placing his hands on the dash so he isn't tempted to lean back into his seat. If Jericho takes a turn too sharp, he's just going to tumble right over, but that's the risk he's willing to take right now. ] Where are we going? [ Egil still doesn't recognize where they are, but he's watching the world through half-open eyes. ]

Daryl tries to make himself feel walled off and vigilant, wondering about where a camp might be and how they managed to keep a kid alive for so many years, wondering if they'd be a threat. But instead he just feels cold. Somebody loved this kid. Somebody might still be looking for him.

"Yeah."

Carefully, Daryl searches pockets for any clue about where he might have been holed up prior.

"I reckon Carl's a cat," he mutters. "Took a shotgun blast to the chest a while back, pulled through. Shot in the head, pulled through. So he's on life seven." A few folded pieces of paper are fished out, mostly doodles on the back of a paper restaurant place mat.

That was a convincing 'I'm fine.' Or convincing enough to prompt her to leave it be. Too bad for them both, a visitor takes that moment to pop in. The gunshot is more what has her hackles rising. Zaira's moving before she even realizes it, slotting herself between Charlotte and the door, protect humming in her mind and body with enough force to pull her into action. It's a foreign sensation. Hand on a slim wrist, ready to drag a second body if need be, gun pointed at--Grey.

Her head tilts. So he hit the moving target? The weapon doesn't lower until he begins painting the walls. A weird thing to bare witness to, but she's acclimated as best she can to the strangeness.

Enough for her head to whip back around to regard the woman beside her. Fine? No, she doesn't look so fine anymore. She looks like a pretty thing on the verge of shattering.

With a sigh, Zaira reholsters her weapon and pads off to gather a number of paper towels. They don't pay her enough for this. The smart thing would be to leave it, let the lady regain her wit on her own. The shock'll wear off eventually--besides, Charlotte seems like a proud thing, prodding would only make it worse--but judging by Grey's presence, maybe not soon enough.

"Has this happened before?" she asks when she's standing in Charlotte's space. Arms looping around her to dampen the paper. Calm. There's a casual air about her as she begins mopping up blood, as if it's something she's done every day in her life for someone (...she never has, who would she do it for?).

Honestly, neither did Castiel, at this point. This conversation seemed to be going absolutely nowhere. "What part don't you understand?"

"Why would Lucifer put you in this game?" He mumbled. "I don't even know this guy. Is he supposed to make me question things? Because if he is, point prince of hell."

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YOU WANT, UH, A TISSUE? MAYBE SOME SOAP? NEW CLOTHES?

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Ravio | Loz: Link Between Worlds

Feel free to decide how major or minor Saya's injuries are.

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