VALENTINE'S DAY CATCH ALL 12th-17th

[tom_hanniger]

Who: Anyone and everyone who wants to participate
Where: Literally every corner of the known universe
When: Again with the questions...
Rating: BIG BIG HORRIBLE WARNING LOTS OF DEATH AND FIGHTING AND GRAPHIC EVERYTHING I think you might need an adult...
Summary:

THIS IS A CATCH ALL LOG FOR THE DURATION OF THIS SITUATION

Here's what happens. If you want interaction with HARRY OR TOM, if you want to have a short thread with someone discovering a BODY or someone who is WOUNDED or generally just want some blood and guts it happens in here.

THAT BEING SAID if you want to write a log? Do it. I'm just trying to control the madness in one place...as if that might be easier to manage. It also means the community isn't TOO flooded with bodies and boxes of chocolate so those wanting to bypass this event will have less to look at.

IF YOU ARE A VICTIM, YOU MAY POST YOUR DEATH POST IN HERE
I mean, you can if you want but also feel free to make an independent post. Up to you.

Comment in with a header including date and place for whatever situation you're doing so we can just keep track. I'll do the same.

Questions, comments, plurk or aim or pm me. x

Comments

[pottershotter]

At first, James looks like he's going to protest. They can't just leave him here, not like that! They can't leave him behind!

But...there isn't much of a choice, is there? James can barely stand, and Souji is already dead. They can't change that; they can't make him less dead somehow by moving him or bringing him along. James hates to leave him sprawled on display that way, but...he has no way to move him.

It occurs to him then that his wand is still on the floor of their room, where he landed. He only had one working hand at the time so he'd let go of it so Sirius could help him stand. So not only does he have no way to move him (even if he would have to use his other hand to do so), but he's entirely unarmed. And who knows where the killer ran off to?

"...Right," he finally nods. "Right, okay. It's okay. I trust you."

He hangs onto Sirius even more tightly. His whole body is already protesting because although it's easily been the longest minute of his life, it's still only been a minute since the last time and there is not a single bit of his being that actually wants to apparate again so soon, not now. But they have to go. There's no time to waste, not when their own lives are at stake.

The ride is rough and the landing is rougher. They collapse together and James cries out when they hit the ground. He tries to stifle his reaction for Sirius' sake, but it hurt so much he actually saw white this time.

But, his overall affect is different now. He doesn't make any moves to try and get up this time. He still feels a little like he's swaying, even though he's laying on the ground, but knows that any other position is going to be infinitely worse. He feels sick to his stomach, but it's a very peculiar sickness - if he keeps himself still he's fine, but even the thought of moving makes him want to gag. If he does, he's very sure he's going to throw up.

He's a bit too quiet there.

It's very hard for him to think now. There's a fuzz in his head that's difficult to push through. He's paled considerably since he first turned up wounded, and he's lost a sense for exactly how long ago that was now. But it's a very sick and ghostly pale. His breathing is heavy and quick, and he's cold to the touch. He feels shaky, and he can feel his heartbeat pounding through him, as his body tries desperately to get whatever's left of his blood where it needs to be.

He's still bleeding out. His wounds are leaving a new puddle in the carpet and he can vaguely feel it forming under him.

Suddenly, he's pretty sure he might actually die. He hadn't thought the injuries were serious when he'd received them, but he's bled so much...bled so much it's hard to think now, hard to stay conscious. He's exhausted. He wants to go to sleep, he really wants to, but he's trying to hold on. Even if they revive, the thought of dying still terrifies him. What if...what if he doesn't...?

Prongs, stay with me, okay?

Sirius sounds far off, and James isn't sure if he actually heard him or if maybe he just dreamed it. Maybe he really did fall asleep there, but no - no, he still feels more tired than he's ever been.

But then Sirius is right next to him and so clear and how long has it been since that last conscious thought? He cracks his eyes open and lazily looks up at him.

"...Huh?"

He's got just enough energy to give him a look, not because he doesn't recall but because he can't put together why Sirius would be talking about Quidditch of all things right now. The logical leap that it's to try and keep him awake and thinking is just not coming to him at all.

But he answers anyway, slowly, and nods very slightly.

"Yeah...yeah. Mm. ...I remember."

[solemnly]

Nobody is dying. James is not allowed to die, that isn't a thing that can even be considered because it is beyond the realm of Sirius' comprehension.

"Who won? I always forget." He asks, still thumbing through the news feed, quickly scanning each entry, fumbling through the mechanics of the device, itself.

Ah-

Finally, he finds something useful and hits reply. It's some kind of recording, which is fine, and he holds the device low and close.

"Hello?! I need you're help." He asks and fumbles the device, trying to figure out just what, exactly, he is doing.

"I don't know how to-- bollocks. Hello?! Seventh floor, room one." There are no pleasantries, no introductions because there just isn't time. There is barely time to even speak and he turns the thing around to highlight just why that might be.

He turns the device back on himself and begs for help, "Please-- Please come now!"

His dearest friend in all the world is close to death and Sirius has absolutely no idea what to do. He can't help, he doesn't know the first thing about healing and even if he did, he can't remember a single spell in his panic. A single spell. It all just blindly mushes together and none of them are healing spells and shit- how can he be so useless that he doesn't know a simple thing like that?!

"James..." He's scared to touch him but he needs to keep him awake. Needs confirmation, anything. Fear is tugging tears into the corner of his eyes but he can't- He can't let it consume him. He's stronger than this and he knows James is as well. This won't be the end of him. It can't be.

"Healer is coming.. He's almost here, okay?" He hopes. Prays.

"Tell me, who won the game?"

[pottershotter]

"Um..."

He shuts his eyes again, and tries his hardest to think. His thoughts are so far away from that day, from that match. It requires more concentration than he possesses - most of his strength has been going toward not passing out. He's very aware of the feel of carpet under his good hand, the weight of his body, anything that might ground him and remind him he's still here. Still alive. That heartbeat is still pounding in his head, through his whole body.

It all leaves him quiet a little too long though and his focus drifts away. He can hear Sirius but he can't really see what he's doing, so he carefully lolls his head in that direction. Sirius is still there, right? He sounds close but like he's talking to someone?

"Who's...?"

Who's that? Who are you talking to? But he strays before the sentence is over and leaves it trailing off. He's answered quickly enough though - it was a Healer; there's a Healer coming.

...Wait, there's a Healer coming? But Souji's dead, and Martha's likely still dead, and he...he really can't think of anyone else. Souji had been his last hope - so who could this possibly be?

He doesn't argue though. He's too tired to argue. How could he possibly argue when he's lying on the floor breathing hard like he's run for miles. He trusts Sirius with his life, so there must be a Healer coming. Somehow. Sirius said so, so there must be.

Then Sirius is asking him about Quidditch again and oh, right. The game. Who won that game...? It takes him a minute, but then -

"Pud...Puddlemere."

No, come on. Breathe. Full sentence.

"...Puddlemere United won. It...it was close though. Really close."

[solemnly]

[[Continued HERE]]