[OPEN] "These shallow waters never met what I needed. I'm letting go; a deeper dive."

[mviw]

Who: Ford (mviw) & YOU! | Closed prompts for Fiddleford, Wendy & the kids, tiny!Rick and Frisk, and Bill Cipher
Where: Around Neverland
When: Through the Neverland event + the Aftermath
Rating: PG-13/R for violence, swearing, limb amputation
Summary: Ford tries to protect his best friend, his nephew and niece, his friend's daughter, and his brother. It goes horribly awry. (You could say the casualties are about half his armies.)

(This log is corresponding to the events in THIS log.)

The Story:
[ooc: Prompts are written! Have at it.]

Comments

[mcgucket]

[For his part, Fiddleford does look appropriately intimidated for a moment by the look that Bill gives him here, but otherwise he keeps working nonetheless.]

Wasn't plannin' on it.

[Oh look, is that a small piece of bone fragment that he's managed to extract? Yeah, he's going to just drop that somewhere aside before he starts picking out more of the others that can be safely removed here.

He raises an eyebrow at the other arm moving around, but at least Bill isn't causing a mis-step on our end here, or potentially shoving things down our throat, so that's a plus as far as we're concerned.]

[ghflskhu_ph]

[There's a dry laugh as Bill attempts to keep his pitch in check and his voice from cracking- it sounds more like a cough.]

"And That's YOU for YOU, ain't it, FIDDLES?"

[His skin is feeling so- so-- cold? Wet? Clammy? Clammy. It's making him shiver as he finally secures the flask in his grasp, maneuvering it his lap.]

"The kind of man WILLING to turn a BLIND EYE for the GREATER GOOD!"

[His fingers begin attempting to twist the cap- ugh, why can't he just gnaw the stupid thing open- with marginal success.]

[mcgucket]

[Of all the things that Bill could have said, that's the one that causes Fiddleford to momentarily stop what he's doing, teeth gritting a little as he needs a moment to focus again, keep his hands from shaking.

This time Fiddleford keeps his mouth shut rather than taking the bait and responding to it, but Bill can guess pretty easily that he's hit a nerve somewhere here, even as Fiddleford manages to remove another bone fragment or two to cast off to the side.]

[ghflskhu_ph]

"HEH-HNN"

[Bill would laugh more at the sudden change- ha, and Fiddleford thought he could shut him up- but his mouth is currently preoccupied with the flask. At last he feels some give in the screw top and its contents splash generously into his- thankfully not eye- mouth, dribbling down his chin, sending a few rivulets down his neck.

He drinks greedily with great haste, forgetting to breathe until he resurfaces from his fervor with a sputtering gasp. Fiddleford gets his wish it seems, Bill has little to say as his chest heaves, catching his breathe and waiting for the alcohol to work its sweet magic.]

[mcgucket]

[Drinking should never be encouraged, but if it gets Bill to shut up, then an exception can be made.

Now that he's quieter, Fiddleford can concentrate better on what he's doing here, and unless Bill has another hilarious quip to throw at us before we're finished, soon Fiddleford will speak up again.]

Right, I reckon I've removed what bone fragments I could from here. He's still going to be in pain and he will need further medical attention, but he should be able to last a lot longer than he would have before.

[Like... probably once the event ends it would be recommended for him to immediately seek out help from someone who can stitch this up better than we can.]

[ghflskhu_ph]

“GOOD RIDDANCE!!”

[Bill sits straight up with a jolt, moving to clap his hands together before—realizing he lacked the extra limb to do so.]

“…WELL then, TIME for ME to HIGHTAIL it OUTTA HERE. I’d say its been NICE WORKING WITH YA But it hasn’t. I’m FEELING really SWELL about ALL THIS!-- LATER!!”

[His eyes roll towards the back of his head at an alarmingly fast rate as he shuts them, collapsing to lay back down . . .]

“AND BY SWELL I MEAN – there is some DEFINITE SWELLING in these ABYSMAL TISSUES you HUMANS are SO PROUD OF. YEESH you guys are GROSS! Thought you’d wanna know!”

[You know, for clarity! And with that, Bill collapses once more. When next the vessel opens his eyes, it won't be the demon behind them.]

[mviw]

[...there are a few more seconds of glorious numbness until Ford rises out of it and surfaces into consciousness with a hiss of pain and a low groan. He convulses once and then stills, lying on his back in the sand.

Where... how...

He closes his eyes again.]

...oh God.... Stanley... [They open once more, blinking at the human shape nearby. It isn't his brother, but it's a welcome sight anyway.]

...Fiddleford? Oh thank God...

[mcgucket]

Oh, Stanford!

[It's not the demon triangle anymore, god bless.]

Thank heavens... um. [He props Stanford up a little so that his stump of an arm isn't directly in the sand because the last thing we need is sand somehow getting into the man's wounds (thanks for that, Bill) allowing him to lean on Fidds some here if necessary.]

Are you... well, I'm not gonna bother askin' if you're feelin' alright, but...

[God he's trying, but he has no idea what to say here.]

[mviw]

[He reaches his left hand at Fiddleford, clutching at him. He's weak, and it's a miracle he hasn't gone into shock yet (but he's not far off).]

Fidds... I'm sorry... I-- [Ford leans on Fiddleford, resting his head on him as he can barely hold it up. He is as terrified as he sounds.] ...I-I'm sorry.... I left him, I left Stanley, I-- I left you... I'm so sorry.

[Perhaps most surprisingly, this big strong old owl lets out a sob. The emotional agony is comparable to the physical. He wishes he was unconscious again. Death would be better than dying slowly like this. The weakness, the way his entire body feels so heavy, the desperation and guilt... he might as well be 10 years old again.]

I let him into my head, I let him... back in... I didn't want to, I didn't, oh God, I'm sorry... [He left Stan. Frisk held him down while Rick pulverised his arm. He left Stan. He let Bill into his mind. He left Fiddleford alone. He left his brother.

Softly, Ford cries against his friend's shoulder.]

[mcgucket]

[Wow, okay, he almost prefers Ford being unconscious, or fucking Bill to his best friend crying on us right now.

... Almost.]

I-i-it's... it's going to be okay... [He brings his hands up, one resting on the hand that's clinging to him here, the other somewhere on the man's shoulder where he's leaning against us, an attempt at trying to be comforting despite his own anxiety right now threatening to tear his hair out.] You're gonna be okay, just...

[... Fuck, what was it that Stanford had said to us once? For some reason he can't quite recall how that conversation went at this exact moment, but something about this situation has reminded him of it, so he tries anyway.]

Just... try to concentrate on breathing for now, alright? It'll... it'll help, I think.

[mviw]

...breathing...right.

[...breathe. Yes. Breathing. Focus on breathing. He's gasping, his heart is pounding... he sniffs and makes a great effort to control his breath. It hurts. His chest hurts so badly but a few gasps, he manages to slow to deeper, though shuddering breaths.]

...would you.... please stay? Please. I'm sorry... about the blood...

[If he has to go this alone, he'd rather die and get it over with. Only because he knows he'll come back, of course.]

[mcgucket]

Yeah, 'course I'll stay. I wouldn't leave ya alone like this.

[... Don't pay close attention to the irony of those words if you can help it, Ford.]

And, uh, don't worry about the blood, that's not something I'm too chuffed about right now. I'm just glad that you're alive.

[And here with us, and not currently being possessed by an evil dorito...]

[mviw]

[Sadly, the irony hits him and the laugh Ford barks out sounds as painful as it is. Despite everything though--the pain, the irony, the encroaching numbness--he leans on his friend (not that he can do anything else) and he's grateful for that lifeline.

Grateful enough that he can at least give Fiddleford a fair warning.]

...thank you, Fidds... [He tries desperately to keep his eyes open.] I don't think I'm going to die--but--if I do, it's-- it's not permanent. I swear, it's not. So don't-- don't worry. I'm-- I'm going to be fine. We're going to be fine.