Comment with your character, preferences, preferred role, and any information you'd like to include.
Your character has either been injured/sick and had to be taken in (possibly against their will) or has been the one to help somebody like the former. Through the mending process, the two characters in a thread have fallen in love - or at least grown closer and more affectionate.
[ her abilities may have helped her get out of the fight alive, but they don't make her feel any less cold. Hank is the one who had to bring her in, and Donna might've noticed he was surprisingly careful in how he carried her home. the chill in her body was immediately bone-deep and her legs still feel numb; it's the kind of feeling she can't escape right away, and it's not fading nearly as quick as she wants it to.
he sets her down on the couch in front of the fire, Dawn brings her tea and as many blankets as she can find, and then they're off to track down a witness who wants to help identify their Victor Fries fanatic. it's with a tremble in her voice that she insists she'll be fine and tells them to leave her alone.
but alone in the tower, she's not sure what's worse; the bitter cold that's taken over her body or how utterly useless she feels when they have to head back out without her. part of her doesn't even understand how it affects her so deeply - she's freezing, shivering, sore from combat and the persistent, seemingly endless cold.
she curls up as tight as she can and pulls her blanket close, mentally reminding herself that this is almost over. it's only a matter of time, right?
[Diaval or Borra only for cast, please. Crosscanon very welcome. Preferences in journal. Can be the one tending or possibly the one tended, but she'd be a miffy patient.]
( most likely the one to have fucked off and gotten himself messed up, but he could try to be a caretaker if it's someone important to him. or squall.)
[ there's really nothing to be ashamed of. it happens to the best students — you let your guard down and some big nasty comes crashing outta the woods, wising you up just quick enough to knock ten years off the top of your lifespan. seifer, relentlessly deadly though he may be, is still just a human, just a student, and evidently very little of an obstacle for a raging t-rexaur.
protocol is to head to the infirmary, but fuck that. the dorms are far closer to the training room, which means there'll be less prying eyes in the halls between. one errant snicker and seifer knows he'll start swinging 'til the blood loss drops him, so he limps with a purpose into the residential quarter and down the marble path.
there's probably a lot of reasons why it's not his room that he crashes into, but seifer's too dazed to think it through and it works out anyway. squall's too much of an airhead to ever remember to lock his door, and no one attempts to intercept him as he noisily thuds and cracks his way into the shared bathroom looking like a freshly turned zombie. he runs the tap as high as it'll go, cursing as it singes his bloodied fingers, and dapples the walls with red fingerprints as he blindly claws for squall's towel. ]
[They were both a bleeding, bloody mess but Dean had taken the worst of it. Faith could stitch her own arm later, right now he was the one that took priority. He was the one who'd lost the most blood, too.]
Where's the whiskey? You're gonna need it.
[She grabbed the first aid kit from her duffle and started to pull out gauze and supplies.]
( an excellent one to fuss over you if you're sick or otherwise incapacitated. just like his brother when it comes to sitting still, though. good luck with that. )
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