(no subject)

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Who:Blake and Yang, Blake and whoever comes to visit her in the hospital.
What:Aftermath of Murder Plot, be warned.
When: Evening
Where: Fayren, in the place that Yang finds her wandering, half lucid and trying to find Weiss and later in the Hospital.
Warnings: Murder plot related, Blake took a beating. She is NOT pretty to look at right now.


Afterword:
Blake coughed and gasped coming back into consciousness. As soon as he did a hundred pin pricks of fire shot through her lips and she whimpered. The tag in her right ear throbbed but it was nothing compared to the bloody, deep gash that was still oozing blood where Battler had branded her. It was amazing she had ever regained consciousness at all.

And then slowly, things started to come flooding back. Her eyes widened, but her pupils were dilated with panic as well as agony now. "WEI - ACK!"

She couldn't complete her teammate's name. Could not talk at all really. Suddenly she leaned over and heaved. All of the blood she had swallowed was not agreeing with her. And no matter how much it hurt she couldn't stop herself from throwing up. She wondered distantly if she was going to die before she swooned, putting her head between her legs as she crouched there, the picture of an abused, dirty animal.

She gasped, each breath she drew hurting more than the last.

Weiss, where are you?

She could not lay down and die here. She forced herself to stand, using her good arm to lean against the wall of the alley way she was in for support. Where was her device? She'd get a message to Yang, Ruby...someone and tell them that Battler was a sick bastard and they had to find Weiss before it was too late. She didn't know why he had let her go, but she'd worry about details later.

When she found it she tried to type but her hands were trembling so bad that all she got was:


Text:
Baattt;er crazy. He's sIck. Attacked us. Weiss. Hurt bad. Ffffffing Weiss!



Hospital:
The ear tag had been removed. A simple puncture wound that was healing well. Thanks to a combination of modern medicine and her aura recovering the swelling around her mouth was looking better, though she might be left with a thin white scar or two. But what had kept Blake in surgery the longest was her arm. Battler had burned her thoroughly. Tissue was badly damaged and there would definitely be a terrible scar from that.

She tossed, fading in and out.

Comments

Re: Hospital Thread

[fade_to_black]

Amber eyes slowly cracked open. She stared up at the person in confusion. The pain killers were probably not helping her to focus much. Her eyes look at the flowers then back at him.

"Tea shop?" her voice was hoarse, but at least talking was getting less painful. "The tea was good."

Then a long pause before, "Weiss....is she here? They won't let me leave my room yet."

And the last time she had tried they had sedated her. Probably screaming at the nurse didn't help.

Re: Hospital Thread

[youfool]

Ted smiled helplessly at her. This Battler villain so far seemed to target mostly women. How despicable. "It is, isn't it? I'll tell Luke you said so." Weiss...that poor girl, Ted thought. So many loved her, and yet she did not seem to grow any warmer in kind. She definitely wouldn't be up to that now. Or would she? You never know, sometimes people became angelic under suffering.

He could certainly use an angel now, as he thought how to proceed. Someone he didn't know much about, beyond hailing from Remnant, who could hardly speak. What do you say to that? He could start by answering the question, at least. "Sorry, I haven't seen her about."

Gotta put on the thinking cap for this one...

Re: Hospital Thread

[fade_to_black]

Blake closed her eyes for a moment and there's a struggle as though she is trying to control some emotion. But when she opens them, they are bright, determined. She's not going to cry. At least not until she knows for sure what Weiss's fate is. She wishes she could escape the hospital. Yang would probably be furious, but...she can't just lie here. Maybe it hasn't sunk in what's been done to her yet, but she'll process it once she knows everyone is okay.

"Need to heal faster," she almost sounds like she's sulking. "Take down...that bastard..."

Re: Hospital Thread

[youfool]

Hoo boy. Another amazon. Ted sat down, taking his presence to not be disliked.

He didn't like the idea of leaving battles in the hands of women. It's too ugly, too obviously shameful. Men should protect the women in their life, not send them out on revenge quests. And what, he thought, would be the point of killing him, even if that were at all possible? A symbolic victory? A satisfaction of pride? The best they could do was imprison him indefinitely. That or feed him to one of those captured spirits that take people out for good.

He didn't know. What he did know is that her voice was strained, and it pained him to hear it. "In that case, not another word from you, all right?" Ted sounded gentle, and was then silent for a few moments.

Her eyes, when he took a look, were very pretty. It reminded him of what Levy lost. Thank goodness those had not been taken from her, even if they were lined with shadow. "I can talk enough for both of us, if you like. Blink twice if that sounds pleasant."

Re: Hospital Thread

[fade_to_black]

Blake would have rolled her eyes at Ted's inner dialogue. As though battles weren't ugly under any circumstance. She'd say that people no matter what gender should learn to protect themselves - there could come a day there was no one there to protect you. Or when someone weaker would need your protection.

As for how the world should be, that came to a long list. Blake had learned in her younger years that there were many things that should be but weren't. Too many things.

She just gave him a 'Blake' look at that,but didn't disagree. Talking wasn't as bad as before, but it still hurt where her mouth had been sewn shut.

Re: Hospital Thread

[youfool]

No blinks? No problem! Even if she'd refused him, Ted couldn't think of what else to do for a stranger. Sit in silence? Nonsense; he's a man of action. Of verbs. Of words. Besides, if he were in her shoes, this would be exactly the sort of thing he'd like.

"...have you ever heard of the theory of 'hedonic adaptation'? It states that, regardless of what happens in one's life, good or bad, one's happiness tends to quickly revert to a stable level; a mean. On the one hand, that does sound somewhat bleak, for it would mean that no one could ever really change how happy they were to any significant degree.

On the other hand, that means that everyone, even the worst of us, have a kind of innate resiliency to the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. No matter what happens, we'll all get back on our feet eventually, good as new. It might be better to say good as old.

My own life has certainly born that out. Things have happened that, at the time, seemed apocalyptic, and I would've sworn never to be content again. But, however sacrilegious it felt to live when everything felt like it should die, life went on anyway, sure as the tides, and of course, happiness was found whether I wanted it or not."

Ted enjoys abstract things like philosophy. And people. He couldn't avoid talking about them for long. One came to mind.

"It's funny; these are the kinds of things I'd try to talk to Luke about. More often than not I confused him. He is, in that sense, very practical. That is, without much head for philosophy. I can't figure what he's got in his head instead, for it's very large, proportionally. In fact, that's just one of the things I talked of that confused him: the relation of bodies to personality.

Nowadays no one much believes in that sort of thing; that who you are can be told, at least in part, by how you look. The soul is one thing, the body is another, and that's that. Personally I find that too prosaic; as though all our flesh were silent. I don't think physiognomy is half so groundless as its opponents claim. Oh, but I was talking about Luke.

Well, his form is a lithe one; skinny. Most of his mass was sent upwards to make room for his brain, I suspect. He's very smart; loves puzzles. Anyway, his body shape is called an "ectomorph". If the pseudoscience holds weight, that means he's sensitive, with an inner introversion to make up for an outer extroversion. You know, due to his spread out limbs and literally thin skin. As far as theories go, I think it's a match, though that might be confirmation bias. He's no fan of violence; I haven't once got him to go to the range with me. It's practically incomprehensible. Oh, but he can be brave in the right situation. Once, he discovered me in some ruins..."

Ted would just go on like that, talking about people and thoughts and recounting adventures. He could go on forever if the universe let him, or at least until he was arrested or Blake fell asleep. Ted hoped this was what a pleasant visit consisted of, at least for someone in her position.

Re: Hospital Thread

[fade_to_black]

Blake blinked at him through bleary eyes and listened to him go on. Then she grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled out a few things.

'I would've sworn never to be content again.' - What happened?

-I don't think how people look matter very much except to other people and what they want it to mean.

Look how much good it did us all with Battler. He looked like a normal, trustworthy human being and so we treated him like one. There was nothing about him externally to suggest he was insane until he started acting like it. So much for outer perception. -

Re: Hospital Thread

[youfool]

Ted laughed at her maneuvering, as he saw the paper. Very clever, finding a way to turn a monologue to a dialogue. "Hah, you're very resourceful," he said as he scanned the page. He decided to answer the last first.

"...He had red eyes, didn't he? In my experience, that's never a good sign. Maybe your type of humans have that; I don't know with Remnant. In my world, it means sin. Red hair too; far redder than what's natural for 'normal humans.' Funny phrase, that. They say once you get to know someone, even the plainest, they're never really normal. Maybe that's what should have tipped us off. By what accounts I've heard, he was perfectly charming and inoffensive. Which is perfectly suspicious. When someone comes off as flawless, they're either angels or hiding something. For all the wondrous things I've seen here, I'm afraid angels aren't among them." Speaking of flaws.

"Bad topic; let's substitute myself in its place, even if it's vain." He cleared his throat. Personal storytime, eh? He smiled nervously. "Promise not to laugh?"

"...When I was around seven or eight, my dog died. I don't know if that's common in Remnant; keeping pets. It was for boys my age, and liked many boys my age I loved him more than life itself, and had some hazy idea that he'd live forever. Do you know that some suggest every parent raise their children with pets solely to teach them about mortality first-hand? Isn't that awful? My own parents, bless their hearts, probably thought it very educational. God preserve us, it was.

It wasn't just that he passed by mere age or some inevitable disease. Oh, he's named "Rocky", by the way. It was the way it happened. You see, in larger breeds, sometimes there are developmental problems. In this case, his...brain grew too large for his skull. It drove him mad, poor thing. When I first caught wind of my father planning to put him down, I asked him what that meant. He explained, honest man that he is. I was determined to convince him that there was nothing wrong with Rocky, all evidence to the contrary. I reached out to pet him, he growled, then bit me so hard I think I still have the scar. That was the last straw for Rocky; my father took him to be euthanized the next morning." A pause. A grown man really shouldn't be getting sentimental about this stuff, but Ted's a sentimental man. He staved off the water works for now.

"Naturally I was inconsolable. It wasn't enough that he be taken, but in such an estranged mode. What should've been a peaceful farewell was a dark moment where we hardly knew each other. From then on I was convinced that there was something deeply wrong with not just the world, but the whole universe, if something good could go so bad. I know that's stupid, saying one's deepest beliefs from such an immature age are still valid. But that one always stuck; I think it's really true. And so, having judged the universe to be bad, I resolved to have no further dealings with it.

You can guess how that turned out. Life simply won't let us stay in the doldrums for long. My hedonism adapted, we bought a cat, and things became familiar again. The universe was still as wrong as ever, but happiness worms its way back, and we still--forgive the cliche--try to right it. Hopefully, in your, instance, I'm doing a passable job. You'd think so, given how often people wind up here."