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WHO: Cassian and Sanzo in one, Cassian and Amberdrake in another
WHAT: DINNER TIME and A brief material run
WHEN: Shortly after Christmas, before the shops in Fayren close.
WHERE: Everglade and Fayren
WARNINGS: Gore, violence, mentions of cannibalism

4 SANZO
He'd gone too long. He knew he'd over extended himself, the gift he got from Tannusen could only last so long. Wheezing, stiff, the faint sound of flutes beginning to sound in the back of his mind, tonight had to be the night. He wasn't going to risk it all again, he couldn't. He couldn't keep relying on someone else here to patch him up every time he fell into shit.

He was a grown man. He could take care of this.

As it had been for two thousand years, the hunt was on. As it had been for two thousand years, the iron dagger found its mark, the husk soulless yes, but oh how they screamed like any real living thing would. Once, perhaps, he would have shrunk away from the sound. A long time ago, he'd be frantic to silence them, clumsily slashing at vocal cords and sobbing in fear and horror-

He knew how to work now, and the screaming was quickly silenced to pathetic, wet gurgling as the cloaked man snapped ribs with ease, feeling the rippling sensation of that thing pulsing in the back of his head, feeding his meager strength. Peeling the membrane off the heart. Sinking his teeth in and silencing the husk forever.

Blood everywhere. It stank of it, but the pain in his body and his lungs faded with every bite, even if it couldn't fully sate the beast. Just another bandaid.

But for now, it would do.
4 Amberdrake

Of course, Everglade wouldn't have the materials he needed. No one would stock in the type of silver he required, and he didn't even ask any shops there. Seemed like a good way to get a lot of unwanted attention. So, wrapped up in fleece and wool, cranky and miserable and cold, headed for Fayren.

They'd have what he needed, or at least part of it. He could always return home and finish blessing it all later. He had some energy in his step now, so the little man was going to be quite the obnoxious terror in Fayren, picky and fussy with everything he picked up, viciously haggling every single object down.

"I'll only be takin' pure silver, and not anything else. I don't want any steel or nickle in any of this- What else is in this mirror? Oi! Tis a real question, does it look like I'm foolin' with ye?"

Yeah. Not a good day for Fayren.

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Sanzo snarled as the second blow hit, smacking into his thigh and making his brief retreat awkward and stiff. He didn't care how much he hurt this shitstain as long as he didn't kill him. He'd never here the end of it if he did, from Koumyou or Drake, he was sure. Fuck!

An arm down now- He swung with his fist, leg too unsteady so soon after that hit for a kick. With any luck, he'd get Cassian's ribs and start that coughing again.

HA.

"Hold still ye bloody minger-" Swing and a miss, though by the whistle of the end of the gun flying through the air, that one would have hurt. Honestly, knocking Sanzo out and then clumsily dragging him to an inn seemed like the best idea. Tack some anti-vampire wards on the door, he can get out in the morning and Cass will be long gone.

Good plan. He likes this plan.

He does however, take a full fist in the ribs, and that does indeed start up a deep, ragged series of coughs.

It also has him stumbling back quickly to try and keep out of range, spitting a mouthful of thick fluid out of his mouth. It's not red.

But it's not good either.

"DAMN YE, ye petulant ugly horse faced-"

Sanzo hasn't stayed among the living by means of fair fights, not at all. He was not about to give Cassian any space to recover and lunged after him, aiming another blow for just under Cassian's ribcage. Good luck spouting insults when you really can't breathe!

The cigarette had been dropped at some point but Sanzo didn't give a shit, right now he just wanted to knock the shit out of Cassian.

Okay, that was just not fair, but with every wheezing breath was uttered something that was decidedly, equally unfair.

And whatever it was, it sounded scary, no normal tongue slipping out of that mouth as he spat another gob of fluid into his face, trying to drive his elbow into the other man's ribs.

The sudden curl of magic, not the alien, blasphemous one of before at least, began to grow in the area, the trees rustling as the whisperof old, black magic began to fill the clearing.

... Okay, so technically it was really just a random ass homing spell. Something to use while lost.

... He was bargaining on Sanzo not knowing that one. Hopefully.

Maybe.

Sanzo ducked his head, that liquid, whatever it was, now staining his hair. Disgusting! The elbow connected, the monk hissing in pain as he earned himself another bruise to his ribs. Drake would be thrilled. That spell however-

Again he moved faster than he should have, for a moment looking like he'd stop his assault. But no, he just needed the distance to chant. The building magic he summoned came from him, or more specifically, his shoulders, instead of looming around them like Cassian's spell. No, he had no idea what Cassian was doing but he could damn well stop it!

The source of his magic was obvious enough, the scroll on his shoulders, seemingly ceremonial at first, was shifting around as he chanted.

Shit. He took the bait, but not even remotely how he wanted him to. Cassian's magic came packaged in pre crafted spells. One use amulets and wards. He wasn't exactly the fire ball throwing mage of lore, here.

That scroll had to go.

Now the gun was turned about. Both barrels at him, the useless homing spell silenced as the magic he had been casting began to fade from the air.

"Shut yer trap, lad."

Edited 2016-12-29 08:47 (UTC)

Faced with the very real potential of death, Sanzo did what he always did in such situations, kept going. Whatever Cassian was doing was gone, for now, but he could bring it right back! With a last shout, the Maten sutra expanded, a dozen or more copies of the scroll, like tendrils, shooting out from around Sanzo. The force of releasing the sutra alone was enough to snap branches and topple a nearby rotten tree, it was plenty enough force to send Cassian flying but one of the fragments shot out to smack at him, just in case.

The rest fanned out, gouging the ground in their path, seeking out any remains of that foul magic.

... Welp.

THe trigger was pulled, and the full force of that specially modified elephant hunting rifle was released, just as the priest was hurled back by the magic of the sutra.

Driven into the dirt, bleeding, hacking, coughing, bones broken and utterly baffled as to what just happened, getting up wasn't going to happen so quickly.

He uh.... had to make sure he was still alive first. As for the 'foul magic', don't worry.

His little compass spell is really really gone.

Really.

And so was the sutra, retracted in an instant as the focus of its Sanzo was broken. Miraculously, Sanzo was still standing in the midst of the torn up ground, the corpse had been flung off somewhere into the woods, and swayed there, a steady stain of red spreading across the lower right of his robes. He swayed just too far one way and his injured leg gave out and he crashed to the ground into an undignified lump of swearwords and bloody clothing.

With effort and spite, he pushed himself up onto one elbow, somehow getting a hand on his gun during this. It was pointed again at Cassian. If he dared attack, Sanzo would make sure he'd stay still.

The battered priest in black stares back, barely propped up against a tree stump. Seems like one shot was enough to.... stop whatever that was. Good. He shifted one leg, and then the other, wheezing as a strange, but not entirely unfamiliar static like pain laced it's way up his ribs.

Broke a few, though by the sheer fact that he was still breathing, nothing had been punctured.

As for Sanzo, however, that bloody mess taking over his hips was proof enough his elephant shot had... done it's work.

And done it well.

There's no mockery this time, the smaller man trying to stumble to his feet and put away the shot gun.

"Put it down, ye stubborn git."

Sanzo's eyes narrowed to slits, he didn't trust this freak. Yet- Sanzo could still kill him and it still wouldn't matter in the end. By experience, too much experience, he knew his own life was at risk if he didn't handle the new holes he had in his leg and hip. It was agony, as many wounds he'd taken over the past few years had been, but, as always, he hid his pain in anger and a fierce scowl.

"Back," he commanded, the pain, if anything, deepened the haughty growl in his voice. He lowered the gun but didn't drop it. It could be fired too fast for Cassian to see it coming, if it came to that.

"Yer pelvis is shattered, ye stupid arse." He knew what that shot could do, he saw the blood. "If it hit any organs down there you'll be dead before mornin', ain't no place richer in vessels and sepsis isn't very kind."

But he stopped, wheezing and reeling.

"If ye don't want me draggin' yer ungrateful arse back to town, I suggest findin' someone who will come out here and stick ye back together again."

"I can handle myself." Full of bravado for someone already reaching around his sleeve for his phone. Goddamnit this was Everglade. Drake would be unhappy enough that he was here, even worse that now Sanzo couldn't walk. Not that he wouldn't try, if Cassian would just leave! Damnit man, it's embarrassing to have to call your "roommate" for help as it without you wheezing over there.

If he stayed and Drake wanted to help him too that was acceptable but he wasn't going to suggest it.

He pulled out the phone, leaving a smear of dirt on the screen as he unlocked it. Looking between the phone and Cassian, he typed a quick message with one hand.

"That better feckin' be whatever passes for an ambulance around here, mate." Issuing a final, painful wheeze, he slowly sits on the stump, spitting out what looked to be a single clot of blood.

"Handle yerself indeed, ye even know how to use that thing ye got there?" Oh. Well at least he knew that Sanzo had about a quarter of an idea of what he was holding.

"I'd sooner trust that paper with an actual donkey."

"Fuck off." Sore spot, maybe? Sanzo barely knew how to use the sutra. For basic things, yet, but nothing past that, nothing like what Koumyou or Sharak could pull off, much to his annoyance and shame. Cassian didn't need to know that, he could still kill him with it!

"Linger if you damn well please, I have this handled." By means of asking to be scrapped off the ground. He'd give a couple of fingers to be able to walk over to Cassian and push him off that stupid stump.

"Nae, I'm gonna sit here an' make sure ye don't get eaten by a zombie. Not cos I like ye." A pause.

"Cos it's pissin' ye off an' ye can't do shite about it."

The first clue for who Sanzo had messaged came in the form of several small, colorful birds who zipped in around the downed trees and seemed to just get a look at things before zipping off and away again. Only one lingered, coming to a landing on Sanzo. Thankfully, the little bird weighed about as much as a dust-bunny.

"Fuck!" Yep, it was Red.

Sanzo lowered the gun from his last round of gunfire to assault the unfortunate stump Cassian sat on at the sight of the birds. He lowered himself back down to the ground with a grunt, some of the fight bleeding out of him along with some blood that was still bleeding out of him too. There was a lot of blood at this point, he was sick and pale and completely determined to still be an asshole despite that.

"There. Handled." See, his healer is here. No need to worry.

He didn't flinch. Must be due to the pain. Fishing around in a pocket just turned up a rosary, something tactile to roll around in his fingers to ignore the pain radiating in his chest.

"... I've seen that bird before." He's heard that bird before.

There's no alarm, but... curiosity, looking from Sanzo, to the little fluffy beast, and back again.

"... Well.

Convenient."

Amberdrake finally arrived with the rest of the flock to guide him, and he spared Cassian a single glance -- his eyes were strangely unfocused -- before bee-lining for Sanzo. Sanzo was bleeding out. Cassian was, essentially, regulated to 'walking wounded' status. That. Fast.

Drake slid to a halt by the downed Sanzo, and knelt down, setting his hands over the worst of the wounds and threading in the Gift to assess the damage. And the bleeding immediately slowed to a crawl.

He was in all his usual kestra'chern finery, but there was no smiling or artful elegance. Right now, Amberdrake k'Leshya was a war-Healer and trained chirurgeon in a therapist's garb. All efficiency and no hesitation. Kneeling in blood in the middle of zombie-infested woods? Whatever. Must be Tuesday.

For a moment Sanzo considered a snitty comment. Even Drake wasn't spared that but with Drake finally here, the anger he'd been clinging to to stay conscious slipped and the pain smacked him right back down to grunts as communication. That hurt a hell of a lot more than he'd been expecting.

There were two wounds through his thigh, thankfully missing the bone there. The right side of his pelvis was less fortunate, especially as the silver ball was still lodge there, making that terrible pain all the more agonizing. The best Sanzo could do was lay still and narrow his eyes at Cassian, as if daring him to say or do anything that would warrant getting shot.

He hadn't been kidding about the shot. He meets Sanzo's glare back directly, but he knows better. Don't open his mouth, healer is at work. The last thing that should be done during a doctors visit is annoying the doctor.

However, that's not going to stop him from hacking every so often, spitting up clear and reddish fluid every now and again. His lungs never were any good after all.

Drake had grabbed the small roll of emergency supplies he kept for exactly this sort of situation, though it remained tucked into his open-cut, feather-patterned robe for the moment. So did the thermos of tea, herbs hastily poured in before the hot water he always had on hand at the office. Why was that important? Because it took multiple Velgarthian Healers to fix what one stupid Velgarthian Healer did to himself, and Amberdrake was the only one in this place.

He didn't pay their audience any mind, pushing the lower half of Sanzo's robe open to find the bloodsoaked holes in his jeans. A quick snip with his belt-knife gave him enough room to get skin contact beside the wounds themselves, threading the Gift in directly through his fingertips. He could work through cloth, but it took more energy, and he didn't know how much he would need for this... situation.

Meat was easier than bone, and either was easier than extracting foreign objects. So he'd start here, the wounds growing closed at their deepest points and spreading out back toward the skin. Stitched back together, vein by vein, muscle fiber by muscle fiber. Fluid buildup was pushed away, energy funneled in through his fingertips. Any sign of infection was purged before it could even begin. His eyes remained unfocused, seeing everything he was doing with detail that modern medical machines could only aspire to one day achieve in even still imagery, let alone in real time.

The birds were restless, hopping from stump to stump to tree to rock. Vigilant. Spread out. It wouldn't take someone super observant to know they were making sure nothing snuck up on the distracted Healer or his patients. Garth seemed to be in charge of the flock, doing the most flittering from spot to spot as though checking on the others.

Only Red remained where he was, perched on Sanzo, out of Drake's way. The foul-mouthed little bird offered a few small noises at the blond priest.

"...Silver buckshot," Amberdrake finally said aloud, without looking up at Cassian. He'd also noticed the signature way trees and the ground had been sliced to shit by indestructible paper, but Cassian wasn't missing limbs. Sanzo, meanwhile, had buckshot in his bones.

His tone was mild, like it was just a dry observation. But in reality, oh, the doctor was already annoyed.

Edited 2016-12-29 11:25 (UTC)

Sanzo kept as still and quiet as he could as Drake worked. He wanted to hide his pain completely, so Cassian would have no reason to look down on him other than the fact that Sanzo was literally on the ground. He totally wasn't in severe pain, look, he barely winced! There was some wearing but otherwise he was a good patient. For him.

When Amberdrake mentioned the buckshot he muttered something unintelligible, undoubtedly something scathing about Cassian. This was all totally Cassian's fault. Sanzo picked a fight, sure, but Cassian was here eating people! How was Sanzo to resist that bait?

He felt mildly guilty, but only Drake could tell that.

It was hard not to miss the clinical interest he showed at the process. Two things had always been of the utmost interest to the priest, one being weapons, and the other, magic. And there was magic here, wasn't there? He watched carefully, another unsightly clot of blood managing to ooze past his lips before he wiped it away.

Indeed, not a scratch on him, just the concussive hit from the sutra had damaged him. Wasn't sure what to make of that. Either Sanzo had terrible aim or he'd been trying not to slice him. There wasn't, however, any nice way to hit a man with buckshot though.

Not a hint of shame from him, he snorted, more blood beginning to bubble from that. He was sure nothing had been punctured but-

"Aye. Silver buckshot." More of a hissing wheeze than a brash statement.

"Ye expected a BB?"