Blaine wasn't even sure how he got there; he'd gone on the exploration trip to the ruins with the others, and they'd come out of there all right, with most (if not all) of them being none the worse for wear.
But that was before things turned into chaos; the elements started turning against them, and things that shouldn't happen actually did. There was no way to explain the river turning to blood or the hordes of locusts and frogs and the plague.
But none of those things were remotely bothering Blaine at this point. He was too busy running through a city that was rapidly being destroyed by a deadly combination of hail and fire. He wouldn't be there at all, except at some point, he'd lost track of Kurt, and now he just wanted to find him and get themselves out of there.
John woke up vomiting blood this morning. His arms and legs sprouted oozing sores by noon and now, about an hour later, he's in such pain that he's adopted a fetal position on the ground. He isn't totally certain where he even is, just that everything hurts and he's terrified and
Alan, somehow, has managed to stay uninfected for now. This situation is bad. All he knows is that there's some kid on the floor in pain, in the fetal position. Everyone is dying and this is bad. Hell, he doesn't even know John's name, or half of the other people's names here.
John doesn't recognize the voice at all. Some part of his mind warns him that isn't necessarily a good thing, and might actually be only a bad thing when he's this confused. Still, he doesn't want to hurt someone just because he's too messed up to recognize them.
So he just sort of...pushes. His windy thing whips up around him and the air pushes out in a circle, gently edging whoever it is away. He'd push harder but he isn't sure he has the strength and well. He might need every ounce of energy he has just to stay conscious at all.
Woah, the windy thing trips him out. Is this kid some kind of superhero? He has no idea. Maybe he should just leave for fear of this superhuman boy killing him.
"..What the..? H-hey! I can help you!"
He fights the wind a little bit, but doesn't put up much of a struggle.
The winds die out like they're tired, which makes sense considering their source definitely is. He can't even open his eyes right now. He just sort of crinkles his eyebrows and murmurs.
Yeah, maybe it's best that John forced him away, but Alan is stubborn as shit. He's going to help John, because put bluntly, Alan never gives up on someone who's hurt or dying.
Alan leaves to go find some gloves. He comes back a short while later with the gloves and a bunch of miscellaneous supplies, mostly gauze and some mysterious olde timey liquid pain medication. The closets are awfully weird.
The young man awkwardly piles all the medical junk on the floor next to John.
"I'm going to clean up your arms."
At the moment he plans on giving some pain meds and getting John's nasty sores taken care of. Baby steps.
John murmurs an acknowledgement. He tries to move his arms out from his body so the man can get to them but, well. It all hurts so much that he only manages to move them a couple inches.
Alan carefulllyy takes one of his wrists. John is sick, and he knows it. This is like..Dr. Bleed getting poisoned level sick. Alan goes about putting some disinfectant on the sores and wrapping them up with gauze, unless John shows signs of fighting him again.
"How much pain are you in? Want me to give you something?"
He inspects the bottle the closet gave him. Opium tincture. He knows enough about this stuff to know that it tastes like ass. Luckily, dosing instructions are provided!
Blood. Ugh. Internal bleeding isn't something that's easy to treat, especially when it's on this scale. There's a lot of other issues if his hemorrhage is that bad, but Alan's confidence never wavers. His brow furrows.
"You're gonna be okay, just..hang in there."
He empties the dropper into John's mouth.
"..Going to have to swallow the blood, too."
He then rummages through his supplies. Shit. He doesn't have what he needs to perform treatment, mostly because he didn't expect internal bleeding. Looks like he needs to make another closet trip..
John does as he's told. To be honest, he's just hoping the pain'll stop sooner. When he's died in the past, the pain went on for a long long time before it finally faded to numbness, and then he was usually just on the brink.
It takes Dave a while to get to where John is. Fighting through hoards of zombies while trying not to lead them back to where his friend is can do that. He's only lucky that he's still okay to land, though it's not smart considering the gash on his leg.
He sneaks into the house to sterilize and dress the wound, hiding it under a different, definitely not torn pair of pants. Then, he casually walks to John's room, taking care not to limp or let on that he's hurt.
But John's not there.
Dave tries not to panic, and starts searching the house, totally not frantic about this. When he finally does find John, he can't help sucking in a sharp breath. He's there by the boy's side in a flash.
"John? John, are you--can you hear me?" Idiot, of course he's not okay.
John presses his face into the dust, struggling to stay lucid. Dave's voice is like a beacon and he desperately wants to reach it but...
Fuck, it takes so much energy to even open his eyes a little bit. Everything feels terrible, tastes terrible, smells terrible. He's pretty certain that that horrible smell wafting at him is from a pile of vomit and blood he just up chucked a few feet away before collapsing here. But despite all this he manages to get his eyes to focus on Dave. His lips curve upwards just slightly.
Dave doesn't even care about the smell. His entire focus is on the boy in front of him. He reaches out a hand to brush aside stray bangs.
"Hey. Tell me what's wrong? What do you need?"
He's really scared, frightened if he's being honest, but he's not letting any of it show. It's also hard to see John reduced to this, when he'd been so full of life before.
Dave takes one of his hands and holds it close to his heart.
John bites back a whimper. Even the slightest movement of his arms pulls at the raw, bleeding skin. Alarm signals radiate up his body, striking his brain through the haze of numbness. He doesn't want Dave to feel bad, so he does his best to keep his face smiling.
"I dunno. 'msick." John pauses, strokes his thumb over Dave's palm. "'mthe first born son and all."
His stomach twists unpleasantly. He should get help, but at the same time he really doesn't want to leave John alone like this. That seems far too cruel.
Dave tries his best to sit down without showing his pain.
"Still, I'm gonna sit my ass down and chill with you here."
And pray that the zombies don't hit this house any time soon.
John's too exhausted to even startle properly when the scratching starts at the door. Then it turns to pounding and John forces his eyes open, squeezes Dave's hand.
Dave tenses as he hears it, and his sword appears in his free hand once the pounding starts up.
"Like hell I'm leavin' you here with those bastards."
He brushes his lips lightly on John's temple before letting go of his hand. Dave stands up, wincing slightly as his leg practically screams in protest. He backs up a couple steps.
"Gonna lead as many of 'em away as I can. I'll come back if I can."
Though, he has a feeling that both of them know that he most likely won't.
John can't really tell if he's crying. Everything is kind of numb after the medicine that doctor guy gave him, and he's been sweating profusely since he woke up this morning. But if he is crying, it'd be appropriate.
He wishes he could bottle his windy thing and give it to Dave. He wishes he could go along and fight with him. He wishes he could open his eyes again.
He doesn't even think he can say he loves him again.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Locusts
Frogs
Hail and fire
Re: Hail and fire
But that was before things turned into chaos; the elements started turning against them, and things that shouldn't happen actually did. There was no way to explain the river turning to blood or the hordes of locusts and frogs and the plague.
But none of those things were remotely bothering Blaine at this point. He was too busy running through a city that was rapidly being destroyed by a deadly combination of hail and fire. He wouldn't be there at all, except at some point, he'd lost track of Kurt, and now he just wanted to find him and get themselves out of there.
Zombies
Pestilence
in which we guesstimate symptoms
and
gods aren't supposed to die.
in where lo guesses about 1920s medicine
"Hey!? Can you hear me? Stay with me!"
lots of guessing, basically.
So he just sort of...pushes. His windy thing whips up around him and the air pushes out in a circle, gently edging whoever it is away. He'd push harder but he isn't sure he has the strength and well. He might need every ounce of energy he has just to stay conscious at all.
no subject
"..What the..? H-hey! I can help you!"
He fights the wind a little bit, but doesn't put up much of a struggle.
no subject
"...'nna make you sick."
no subject
"Then I'll get gloves. Okay?"
no subject
But not enough to hold a fist, evidently. His arms fall limp. He's got nothing in him to keep this guy away.
He hopes he won't feel too guilty if it's his fault that the guy ends up dying.
no subject
The young man awkwardly piles all the medical junk on the floor next to John.
"I'm going to clean up your arms."
At the moment he plans on giving some pain meds and getting John's nasty sores taken care of. Baby steps.
no subject
no subject
no subject
"Th. Thanks."
no subject
He inspects the bottle the closet gave him. Opium tincture. He knows enough about this stuff to know that it tastes like ass. Luckily, dosing instructions are provided!
no subject
no subject
"Make sure you swallow it. You'll thank me later."
Alan offers the dropper to John, correctly dosed, more or less.
no subject
no subject
"You're gonna be okay, just..hang in there."
He empties the dropper into John's mouth.
"..Going to have to swallow the blood, too."
He then rummages through his supplies. Shit. He doesn't have what he needs to perform treatment, mostly because he didn't expect internal bleeding. Looks like he needs to make another closet trip..
no subject
"Thanks."
no subject
He sneaks into the house to sterilize and dress the wound, hiding it under a different, definitely not torn pair of pants. Then, he casually walks to John's room, taking care not to limp or let on that he's hurt.
But John's not there.
Dave tries not to panic, and starts searching the house, totally not frantic about this. When he finally does find John, he can't help sucking in a sharp breath. He's there by the boy's side in a flash.
"John? John, are you--can you hear me?" Idiot, of course he's not okay.
no subject
Fuck, it takes so much energy to even open his eyes a little bit. Everything feels terrible, tastes terrible, smells terrible. He's pretty certain that that horrible smell wafting at him is from a pile of vomit and blood he just up chucked a few feet away before collapsing here. But despite all this he manages to get his eyes to focus on Dave. His lips curve upwards just slightly.
"Hi, Dave."
no subject
"Hey. Tell me what's wrong? What do you need?"
He's really scared, frightened if he's being honest, but he's not letting any of it show. It's also hard to see John reduced to this, when he'd been so full of life before.
Dave takes one of his hands and holds it close to his heart.
no subject
"I dunno. 'msick." John pauses, strokes his thumb over Dave's palm. "'mthe first born son and all."
It kind of makes sense. Sort of. Not really.
no subject
His stomach twists unpleasantly. He should get help, but at the same time he really doesn't want to leave John alone like this. That seems far too cruel.
Dave tries his best to sit down without showing his pain.
"Still, I'm gonna sit my ass down and chill with you here."
And pray that the zombies don't hit this house any time soon.
no subject
"But what if you get sick?"
no subject
"Then I'll follow you shortly."
no subject
"That doesn't make me feel better."
no subject
"Well, you won't be alone wherever the hell you're goin', at least."
no subject
"Thank you." He closes his eyes. "I love you."
no subject
"Love you, too. Always."
His heart aches to see this. He knows it's not permanent in the mansion, but fuck it still hurts.
no subject
"Go. Now."
no subject
"Like hell I'm leavin' you here with those bastards."
He brushes his lips lightly on John's temple before letting go of his hand. Dave stands up, wincing slightly as his leg practically screams in protest. He backs up a couple steps.
"Gonna lead as many of 'em away as I can. I'll come back if I can."
Though, he has a feeling that both of them know that he most likely won't.
no subject
He wishes he could bottle his windy thing and give it to Dave. He wishes he could go along and fight with him. He wishes he could open his eyes again.
He doesn't even think he can say he loves him again.
But he's pretty sure Dave knows.
River of Blood