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Private  Ocean Drive    @Nox/Ian
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Played by    115 Posts Jessie Michels
He did not have to travel too far into no man’s land, they said, and on a map he had a little cross, determining the distance of his travel.

But it was still no man’s land.

When Jessie recalled his last visit there, he knew it’d been years-- three; he knew he had almost died, quickly; he knew that the drifter life wasn’t for him.

He lied.

He knew that out of all those things that could have gone wrong, not many had, and those few that had, had left him with a few nights worth of nightmares--

Perhaps there he found his reluctance; perhaps there he found his desire to tell his superior to fuck off in regards to a little venture out there to retrieve something delicate, and to the military, important.

Perhaps.

In a house not as deep in the forest, they swore, a house separated, and far, far away from the rest, not just suiting the few and far between description, but going a step above and beyond as well-- there was a box. A metal box. They didn’t know where the box was, only hoping there it was; they wouldn’t say the word hope; last he had heard, hope was for women, and children, for the pious; the military did not hope; they military sent one of their best deep into places where no sane walked, and chalked up the potential death of said best to the reality of being just that.

He would go there; he would retrieve which had apparently been stolen, even if the intel here was scarce (for obvious reasons), and would he be so successful to return with the loot, the military could carry on being itself, and he could enjoy his lunch.

Lunch wasn’t on Jessie’s mind when the night saw him holed up in a house that was not, in fact, a house; it was missing walls; with only one half of it intact, and the other torn down, or by the weather destroyed, it better suited the title of dilapidated, even severely dilapidated-- with its holes in the rooftop, and the ground floor littered in slain small wildlife, its skeletons and fur that the hunting feral had failed to devour, it looked like a cemetery. And at that moment, it felt like his own.

He bled.

Not much-- but the quantity didn't quite matter when the forest here knew ferals-- when they were known to roam about, hunting to murder on sight; they had nothing that resembled humanity, two legs and arms beyond too little to qualify as such.

And then--

With the brisk evening wind whisking off the scent of his blood, Jessie knew that his chances of survival diminished, and diminished.

He still only cursed when he bandaged his leg up.

A calf-- just a calf injury he knew not to be bad at all, a gash that would earn him a chuckle from his comrades were he to flex it in the military base.

He was not back in the base.

He was not with his comrades--

He was alone-- scared-- injured--

--tenacious.

Determined.

And as he hurried to expertly bandage himself up, back against the wall on the first floor, he minded the surroundings about-- and whatever the case, he was prepared to act; a knife close to his hands, a gun as well, the options numerous--

And Jessie's determination to survive burning blue in his cold eyes.
Posted 05-04-2021, 12:37 PM
Played by    55 Posts Ian Donnaghan

Silently walking amidst the fallen branches and leaves of the Wincroft Forest, the last few days had been productive for Ian. Further to the northeast lay the ruins of a town that had emptied before the Infected settled there, which he had ultimately scouted out; he found a particularly rich trove there of materials which the Solar Eclipse could reclaim and repurpose for either Eclipse's usage or the usage of a customer. He had it all there, written into his notebook; unlooted warehouses, abandoned vehicles and unopened houses seemed ripe for the taking; the Treasurer had even drawn a map of the town, thus detailing the area. I'm not much of a cartographer, but at least it serves its purpose well enough. Slowly but surely, the sun was setting; it meant that the Infected were going to become much more active...though that did not concern him. He was, as much as he preferred not to think about it, one of them; they'd leave their Level V cousin alone, unless he were to make a move against them. As far as Ian was concerned, he also left well enough alone...unless his kin made a move against the Uninfected. It felt like the Vampire's obligation, the right thing to do as it were to him. Whilst he knew he wasn't guilty of the atrocities carried out by his monstrous self, he still could not help but soul-crushing remorse for it...of course, he wasn't completely blinded by this perspective, otherwise he would have met a bullet in the brain years ago due to the uglier aspects of human nature.



Soon enough, night would fall upon the forest; were he an ordinary man, he'd be blind in the twilight, but thanks to his condition, he could see remarkably well thanks to the tapetum lucidum that had developed in the eyes of those who were Infected. Though suddenly, he stopped; a scent entered his nostrils; it was a siren song, trying to entrance Ian's olfactory sense...as though trying to tempt him to come and partake of what it had to offer. To Ian, it mean only one thing...blood; someone was injured, and out in the wilds, that was a most ill tiding. The wounded were practically a walking dinner bell; sooner or later, one of the Infected was going to catch a whiff of the spilled blood on the wind...and God help the unlucky bastard if they attracted an entire pack of Ferals. With this in mind, and spurred by his convictions, Ian would draw his bow and began to follow the sanguine scent...he hoped he wouldn't be too late.

Tag Jessie Michels
Posted 05-04-2021, 05:18 PM
Played by    115 Posts Jessie Michels
Time was not on his side.

As Jessie finished wrapping up his injury, he knew that no matter the haste of his efforts, no matter their definite success, he was always a cut too late; he was always, and ever a drop o’ late too gone, and as he straightened out, he figured out for himself--

He could take a feral down.

Hell, even several.

If he were smart about it, he could snipe them off from a good distance, provided he even knew they were coming; provided he heard them; provided there wasn’t half a dozen.

Even facing one seemed like such a hard job--

And just then, Jessie knew he could not stay; the house here-- half a house, really, wasn’t suitable to help at all, and as he smartly took a knife to his clothes, and cut around his injury, ripping off any fabric soaked in his blood, he calculated his next logical move--

The trees.

And he looked up, sharply.

Groans-- he was hearing groans; a famished hissing arrived next, and Jessie was beckoned by a most mortal compulsion to check out the window, or the facsimile of a window even if its glass was long gone; and the sill part had been smashed, in several places dangling, and broken; and the hole-- the hole that was the window itself, that was half and shoddily boarded up; if he cared to step over to one of the two intact rooms in this half-house, and peer out the window, he could only see that dreadful, and impenetrable dark; he could witness the end of himself, if he were that poetic type.

He was not.

He used a splash of alcohol on his hands; get the stink of blood off; worried, still, aware that the nose of an infected was a hound dog’s; but if he didn’t smell like blood-- perhaps then, then his options of survival were--

Then, he started off; rummaging in his shit as he did, tackling the stairwell down to the ground floor in an apparent, near frantic hurry one might have called frenzied; might have; he still had his mental faculties; as the treeline to his right did break, as the growling approached, too fucking loud to mean anything but a visitor of this half-home, Jessie relied on one final, so to speak, trick up his sleeve; that which he yanked out of his bag wasn’t, in fact, literally inside it; tucked in one of the front compartments, and packed strongly, it was a little bag that felt pliant in his fingertips, suggesting a liquid.

It was one.

Hissing in anger as a feral slammed dumbly against one intact wall of the house, he didn't hesitate to throw that bag violently against, until upon impact it snapped, exploding in an attractive puddle of blood like a trap to distract.

With that, and not even minding to check that his two, or three stalkers had fallen for the trick (they should have), Jessie hurried out of the place, knowing that for the time being, he had an actual target on himself-- that no matter the blood he had washed off himself, how not a drop remained on his clothing, he still had that small injury--

And through the bandage: blood should smell, just divine.
Posted 05-05-2021, 10:18 AM
Played by    55 Posts Ian Donnaghan
Gradually, with every couple of steps, the scent of spilled blood grew ever stronger; so much so that Ian could taste it on his tongue; from the few moment when he fed on the dying, he knew it tasted far too good than he'd be comfortable admitting. Soon enough, he would get close enough to hear the sound of growling and scratching. The doctor knew all to well what it meant...the predator has found their prey, and they will not be found wanting. With this knowledge in mind, he dug into himself and drew upon the power within his mutated form; no sooner had he done so, the area around him began to blur somewhat as his Infected speed came to the fore. Normally, Ian would prefer to avoid such a vulgar display of his abilities, given that being discrete about his Infected nature has been the thing that helped guarantee his survival amongst baseline humans. However, since night had fallen in the wilds, and there was someone in danger, this was a time to set aside that precaution.


Soon enough, as the growling got louder and the scent was practically in his face, the Vampire suddenly stopped. An explosion of the scent of another type of blood overwhelmed him for but a brief moment. As he looked around, he could see a small pack of Feral infected fighting amongst each other, splattered in what was clearly donated blood; he could smell the chemicals that were used to help preserve it before being transfused into a patient. Personally, he found it gave it a peculiar tangy taste, but it filled a hole in the end. That was when he spotted movement, away from a damaged building and his Feral counterparts. It was a human male, breaking for the treeline, most likely having launched the blood to create a distraction. Ian knew that it would only be temporary; once it was clear that they'd begin tasting the flesh and blood of their own, they would immediately try to go after the human. They would have to follow him via line of sight and the sound of his footfalls on the forest floor, since their sense of smell would be overwhelmed for a few minutes. The Level V Infected would also have to favour line of sight as well; even if the blood had not been splattered in his face, he found that his own olfactory senses were partially disrupted by the spilled blood bag. With that in mind, he would silently approach around; whilst the Ferals would leave him be in most cases, they would not hesitate to turn on him out of pure feeding territorialism...discretion was ultimately keen here.


Tag Jessie Michels
Posted 05-05-2021, 12:37 PM
Played by    115 Posts Jessie Michels
At that moment, several things went wrong.

One, as behind him the infected gathered, and threw themselves onto the donated blood, their screeching sent a tremor down his figure, such a mean, such a real reminder of how mortal it was; one bite from them and he’d be goners.

Two-- as he headed away from here, wanting to conceal himself in distance, a rustling of the foliage ahead stopped him instantly, for at that moment, Jessie S. Michels knew it to only be another infected; no animal sipping on the sounds of this gore would approach-- no human would, either, none that cared to see the tomorrow; only an infected drawn to the smell, and to the noises could have stumbled in here, and as the infected broke through the treeline, Jessie’s mind was too aware of how to differentiate between types.

A hunter.

Three--

He decided against a confrontation.

Strafing abruptly, and yet not fast enough to avoid being seen by the cunt, he aimed for the trees, and using the momentum at hand, propelled himself towards one of the trees in the forest, a large, yet also shabby pine with so many of its branches naked it could have been a foolish decision to choose it--

Beggars choosers, really; he would have been a fool to stop and give his options a good, long thought.

His gloves helped, too; their sandpaper like surface and open fingers made for a great help in climbing surfaces-- and as he swung up higher and higher on the tree, he could only focus on one thing.

And one alone.

s u r v i v e

He heard the infected beneath himself; the hunter lashed at the tree before beginning to scale it, and Jessie, already eluding him by skittering across a thick branch, eyed up another tree ahead, knowing this was hardly what he’d hand on mind when approaching the forest today--

And yet, with all his hope, and all his dexterity he had spent years honing, he leapt off the spot anyway, and the branch gave at the end, snapping just enough to disrupt his fall; he still reached the other tree; still, he get to collapse through its branches, still he hit against several of them, scraping his cheek down the tree trunk as gravity yanked him down, still--

He landed on the ground, and better than that, he landed on someone.

A fleshy, actual somebody that wasn't an infected, at least he judged so quickly based on the fact he heard no growling from the body underneath--

But it sure served as a reminder of a simple fact:

He had dropped into someone, he had more scratches on himself, the infected were drawn by the noise and having nothing but himself, Jessie could only react in the following way:

"CUNT!"

Mazel tov to you too, you blue-eyed arse.
Posted 05-05-2021, 01:33 PM
Played by    55 Posts Ian Donnaghan
Just like that, Ian found his normally delicate methods disrupted by a creak of snapping wood and the man falling onto him, knocking him flat on his back and his bow out of his hand. The other man blurted out a profanity that the Vampire had not heard in a long time, which certainly made him blanche a bit too much. The yelled profanity alone also gave the dinner bell another ring, much to both of their mutual chagrin. Immediately, the Ferals snarled in their direction, and Ian could hear their razor-sharp maws snapping for sweet meat. Feeling no time to talk, he shoved the other man off of him and swiftly reclaimed his bow. He nocked an arrow and swiftly drew the bow to its maximum length, promptly releasing at into the nearest creature; the arrow pierced through the Feral's eye socket, and into its brain, killing it immediately. The other two would continue to speed after them, not even stopping to examine their dead packmate; that was definitely another indicator of their true nature. A Hunter would have stopped for a moment, a Reaper would have used that moment to plan its next move or back way if it didn't want to take the risk....and Ferals would still go ahead and pull a Leroy Jenkins, driven to pursue their all-consuming, ravening hunger.


Knowing that he would not have time to nock another arrow, Ian would swiftly shoulder the bow and draw his glaive. Upon doing so, he would help the man that had previously been sitting on his stomach, where he would swiftly ask.


"Can you still walk?!"

Tag Jessie Michels
Posted 05-05-2021, 05:02 PM
Played by    115 Posts Jessie Michels
There wasn't much time Jessie wasted; when he was shoved off; he rolled away, swiftly reaching for his own weapon, a glock with a silencer affixed on, even as the unfolding events took him by surprise; still, he’d not gotten this far by staring.

As he moved away, clambering up, it was also a way of determining how alright he was; no sprained ankles and as far as he knew, he’d not dislocated anything-- yet the hum of pain in his body reminded him clearly that letting several branches slam against him en route down was not conducive to a good time; he ached in places he knew ache to exist, muscles stretched, blood humming offense--

And yet he had gotten this far for reasons, and with stubbornness imbued into his frame, and survival driving his steps.

He stood up.

His gun drawn and his attention swung around them, taking in their surroundings, wanting to see any other upcoming infected before they were surprised--

But the man he had fallen onto was firing away, his aim fantastic, the bow a great help, and the feral he claimed quickly sprawling in its death, its brethren naturally rushing past.

There was no empathy in the world of the infected.

Grimacing in that, and panting still, Jessie could only reflexively jerk back as the other approached him--

“Can you?” asking him in a snap, remembering that while he himself had dropped down from the tree and from a good weight, a potentially fatal end forgone in favor of getting bruised by every branch to slow his fall, this man too had suffered of a hit; there was no-- no way you could just recover from an adult man dropping down on you without sporting an ache yourself.

But this man had.

Jessie’s gaze focused at him in a notion of knowing--

Then, grabbing the stranger hastily the elbow, he swung him around and whipped his gun out, firing a heavy round between the eyes of the next feral that had flung itself right where the stranger had stood a second ago.

As its growling frame hit the ground, and lapsed into eerie silence, Jessie hissed, and yanked the man with himself, whispering to him, "Okay, hi, best friend, let's go go go."

It didn't matter the silencer helped with not making a lot of noise; now, he sported more cuts and bruising-- now, he had some blood on his face--

Now, he was a walking buffet for the infected, again.

It was time to run.

So, holding onto the stranger, he ran.
Posted 05-05-2021, 05:28 PM
Played by    55 Posts Ian Donnaghan
"I can walk fine...my gut though is going to have a nasty bruise and its going to hurt like hell once the adrenaline wears off."

Ian technically told the truth in that regard; for a moment, the subdermal bleeding would happen for a few seconds before his inhuman anatomy healed it up rapidly. His night vision, however, took in a peculiar look on the stranger's part...the look of suspicion. When the stranger began to drag him along, he allowed it to happen so as to maintain his masquerade of normality. They would move along a few moments, before his companion would twist around and plant a bullet into the head of another Feral; even when silenced, the shot still rang through his ear due to its proximity. Had this been when he had only just joined Eclipse, the Vampire would have cringed from one of the few things he finds painful...but the chaos and the unpredictable loud noises of the place had trained him to not even flinch.

With that done, the two of them would continue to run for a time, with the lone-surviving Feral on their tail; yet they both knew that, at a human pace, their hunter would eventually catch up with them, and Ian would most likely be the target, seeing as he was the rival to its potential meal. As the doctor predicted, he would hear the sound of distorted air and an animalistic snarl heading right for him. However, the Level V Infected allowed the Level 3 to plough into him; the force knocked him forward...but he improvised a rolling toss that would throw his opponent off of him. Nothing superhuman, nothing exotic...just a simple Judo manoeuvre that used to opponent's own momentum to send them flying. Swiftly rising to his feet, Ian would take his glaive in both hands. The Feral looked to give another growl, but before it could, a flash of steel would sever its head clean from its shoulders. With the deed done, Ian would take the stranger by the arm once more; he immediately picked up on the little whiffs of blood from the new cuts. Taking stock of the stranger's injuries, he would then remark.

"We better find somewhere to stop your bleedings, otherwise we might as well play host to a Feral party...and I'd hate for us both to be the guests of honour."

Tag Jessie Michels
Posted 05-05-2021, 06:24 PM
Played by    115 Posts Jessie Michels
Jessie nodded at the words; at the response that was just so, so perfect, that the gut feeling that everyone possessed whispered: doubt. And he still doubted.

But he said nothing.

Instead-- there were other things to focus on: the pace of the moment, the chaos in the air, the growling threat and the reality of a stranger right beside him, almost but only almost a godsend; there was no telling the other’s agenda, only that one always had agenda-- be it something as simple, or as complicated as needing to survive.

Then, a growl interrupted these thoughts.

Jessie threw himself back automatically, even if he wasn’t the target.

That, actually, all things considered, was odd; if he could scent his own little blood, so should others.

But the creature did go for his partner, and they rolled together, Jessie pausing even if he technically had nothing tying him to this stranger-- some unlawful logic dictated that if he was to leave this one behind, he could survive; it would be a wise choice; a cruel, yet sadly wise choice in a world that detested empathy, and preferred a lack thereof.

But Jessie didn’t.

Pausing as he whirled around, he only observed the interaction, going as far as to whistle all impressed as the other’s head was taken off its shoulders--

Though in reality, his stomach sank; no matter what, no matter one’s strength and everything, taking a head off clean like that was difficult; it did require an amazing strength; and it did require a momentum--

It brought him back to every past encounter that he had done that to an infected-- or seen someone do that--

Jessie halted these thoughts as if in that moment, what he actually wanted was denial; his sweet, cloyingly perfect denial he pretended to have been dipped in cinnamon, and honey, and served with every favorite vice of his-- just so he could flash the other a smile as he was yanked once more--

Speaking to him--

“Aw, baby, all this touching and we’ve not even swapped naaaaames.”

His pace picked up at that.

This hurry saw them at a mad pace for a few more minutes; when they did spot a house ahead, Jessie knew it to be abandoned only because he’d passed by it hours back; now, its familiar silhouette introduced a sense of relief into his chest, even though he’d not let that manic adrenaline drop yet; vaulting over what remained of the fence that half-wrapped uselessly around the premises, he rushed to the front door, before stopping there, and panting, he looked behind them even as his hand pushed against the door-- and it opened; it would have; this abandoned lil house wasn’t just one of the many about.

The inside, too, appeared not quite as cluttered, and messy as one would assume.

But it was still dark.

“So,” Jessie began, still peering into the way they’d come from, scanning it for any infected, “what’s your name, stranger? You single? Married? Wishing to die before sunrise just like me?”

He chuckled at that, shoving himself inside as he certainly hefted his backpack off, immediately wanting to rummage through to recover his first aid kit, once more.
Posted 05-06-2021, 01:27 PM
Played by    55 Posts Ian Donnaghan
"And we've yet to have a dinner together, truly this is going faster than I'd like."

The words came in response to the stranger's comically flirtatious remark, after robbing the Feral of its head. Whilst there was more of an element of a doctor's bedside manner to it, there was a sort-of quasi-flirtatiousness there; it served to help lighten the mood on his part as well; he gave a flourish with the glaive, cleaning the dead Feral's blood and cerebro-spinal fluid off of it, with a school that indicated a refined proficiency with it. After that, the ad-hoc partners would keep on moving; once more, the Vampire would restrain his abilities with ease and kept a very human-like, caution-filled pace...acting as though something could leap for them at any moment, which was technically accurate by all accounts. Eventually, it seemed his companion had the same idea, because he would also recognise the eroded fence of a town he had visited on an assignment several time; he knew it to mostly safe, though one could never be sure as to what time and nature had done to the houses within. Naturally, the Eclipse Treasurer allowed the stranger to go first, whilst keeping watch for any other Infected; the scent of his blood still cloyed in the air. After he was across, Ian would follow, landing with a roll as he did so.


From then on, the two of them would happen across one of the many abandoned houses that the town possessed. Naturally, the stranger would race to it, definitely indicating a previous familiarity with the place. When they entered, the Infected swiftly closed the door and placed the old door chain in place. Whilst it would not hold back even a determined Hunter for long, it would provide a warning to anyone who occupied the building.


"The name's Ian, still single...and I do find your attempt at gallows humour delectably amusing."

After that was done, he would immediately get to work looking for an attic for the two of them to hide. Going upstairs, in the low light, he would spot such a hatch. Using the blunt end of his glaive, he would tap it. Only silence would answer him, much to his relief; it meant that none of his wild cousins occupied it. Guided by the sanguine scent of the blood, he would find the stranger unpacking a sort of medical kit. Ian opened his satchel to reveal his own, rather sophisticated, if he'd dare say so himself, end-of-the-world doctor's kit.

"I've found attic upstairs, its completely unoccupied...perhaps I can give you look over up there? Lucky for you, I am actually a trained doctor."

Tag Jessie Michels
Posted 05-06-2021, 03:49 PM This post was last modified: 05-06-2021, 03:50 PM by Ian Donnaghan
Played by    115 Posts Jessie Michels
And Jessie gasped.

“Attempt,” he voiced, clearly jesting as the humor loaded his tone--

“Okay, fine, I’ll forgive, adrenaline musta numbed your mind entirely to how perfect my humor issss,” he declared strongly, chuffing in humor as he did, indeed, hasten his efforts at getting his state handled; he had to.

No matter how far away they could have gotten away from the vampiric lot, they could scent-track him-- the sanguine trail he had left behind should continue to linger for as long as the air remained stale; should the wind lift, it could carry the scent off, throwing the stalkers off but even then a state of temporary confusion could mean little when prey had been dangled; and ferals, Jessie knew from personal experience, were more than skilled at stalking than behooved surviving the night.

He dropped his bag; as he rummaged through, the good man Ian went away, and Jessie glanced at him only peripherally, making sure that he was holding onto a weapon, as well; no matter what had apparently united them, he didn’t forget their stranger status remained-- no less dangerous than whatever monster would keenly claw on the door, and beg to enter onto this realm.

He stalked him.

With his eyes-- with his caution; there was no better time to feel mortal than when he smelled his own blood; even if just cute, insignificant few scratches marred his person, he felt a turkey-- basted, and roasted too well to withdraw the smell from spreading on for miles; so, he worked.

Found himself a bottle of rubbing alcohol, too conscious of how every second mattered to hurry along with Ian at the offer--

“In a secooond, lover,” he spoke, a tease in his tone-- one, albeit, a bit darker; he looked up.

Squinted at the stranger, at that point having already dabbed some cotton swabs-- hand-cut, clearly-- in the alcohol, simply to clean his wounds abruptly-- and swiftly; knowing that the smell of alcohol would mask that of blood-- overwhelm it, and though it stung--

He did not react to the pain.

“A trained doctor,” he repeated though, a twist in his smile.

“Oh, no, and I didn’t even put my good underwear for this.”

He cackled.

“I’m sorry,” he tossed in immediately-- and by then, the smile had dropped; the teasing, the hilarious tone had dropped-- he just looked tired.

It was like a mask had been dropped.

“I just… am kind of wary…”

He looked past the stranger-- and where he’d come from, surely the direction of the attic.

His eyes, in fact, too beautifully blue, appeared to stalk it too tensely.

"Don't hold it against me," he begged, breathless, "holing up with a complete stranger in some dark place is very worrying."

And by then, he'd finished cleaning the blood off, at least, having found several little scratches on his face-- on his hands--

On his neck.
Posted 05-06-2021, 04:25 PM
Played by    55 Posts Ian Donnaghan
"Wariness is healthy," remarked Ian, "otherwise, neither of us would be alive in the here and now...at least the Infected have no choice in how they behave..."

A bitter, mental chuckle echoed within Ian's mind; he was one of the creatures out there, it just so happened that his mind was his own once more. The choice to be the best or the worst person he could be was all his once more, and had been so for ten years; so far he had chosen to be the man he was before the world he had been a part of ended in fire and blood. Changes had to be made to accomodate the world he returned to, but at the core of all that, he was still Ian Donnaghan....he still tried to do right by others, even wth his Vampiric condition. Inner musings aside, he focused his own vibrant green eyes on the stranger's icy blue, taking care not to give even the slightest bit of the cleaned cuts. He then extended his hand to pick the human up.

"Alrighty then, lets get your arse upstairs then; you're leg, after all, is my biggest concern here.. As the Vampire led the way, he had another question for the stranger. "Now quid pro quo to you mate; you already have my name, perhaps you'd like to return the courtesy? Or perhaps you'd prefer I call you Mickey Blue-Eyes?"

After that, the two of them would be up the stairs soon enough. Once they were beneath it, Ian would pull the cord, unfolding the stairs as he did so; knowing that it was safe, with the final confirmation from the lack of an Infected scent. he would usher his travelling companion up the stairs first. Upon seeing the mechanism needed to lower from this side, he would sever the cord and carve a hole so that a person could a pole to open it. This was a measure to further slow down any Infected who may have caught the scent of the stranger's blood. Looking around, he could see all manner of junk that was present in the attc, but there was enough room for the two of them to hunker down, once he pushed an old set of draws over the hatch. Once that was done, Ian would enter full doctor mode as he laid out his own equipment.

"Now then, in regards to your leg injury, how and when did it occur?"

Tag Jessie Michels
Posted 05-07-2021, 02:07 PM This post was last modified: 05-07-2021, 02:08 PM by Ian Donnaghan
Played by    115 Posts Jessie Michels
“That is true,” Jessie remarked in turn, that sly, unspoken ‘but’ somehow obvious in his words.

After all--

But c’mon matey here, joke along, what’s the harm in that?

Everything.

Like now:

As the man looked at him, Jessie focused into his dark, dark eyes-- made dark in light of the night ‘bout; he saw little, musing to himself about the shade of the other’s gaze-- should it be green, would it be brown?

What color is in there?

He didn’t know; and yet, with hard, and heavy intelligence somewhere in his head, one that led to awful cold-drenched ideas, Jessie did accept the other’s hand--

Warm.

“Lover,” he cooed to the other affectionately, a true portion of gratitude somewhere in the tone of his; as he slanted the man a look--

He teased coyly in turn--

“Blue eyes is something I like. But call me Solas.”

And Solas twas.

He wrapped his arm around the other; a motion to help him remain stood up--

For sure.

And together, they walked; Jessie took note of the hatch; it was exactly where he remembered it, looking as he remembered it; that was relieving; yet standing underneath it with someone pulling the cord sowed a seed of unwelcome mortality within him; it didn’t matter that his injuries were little-- a few cuts and scrapes-- perhaps had this been a world from decades ago, or even a century ago that’d be a right part of being a child; tumbling down hills, fighting with tree branches, challenging the sun.

Not now.

He walked up the stairs; his belongings had been collected, and along with the smell of dust and must, alcohol rank up the air of the rubbing sort; he introduced it himself; surrounded in thereof, though certain he smelled much like a lovely human, Jessie got up to the attic, waiting for Ian to join him-- when he saw what the man did, he cringed, half tempted to point out he didn’t like unnecessary fiddling with his shit--

But there was no need for it.

Instead, he sat down, observing the man work--

“You’re the protective type, aren’t you?”

It was more of a statement than a question.

It was also avoiding the question.

Jessie smiled--

He had a clip-on torch, he took it off; turned it on and while the light it offered wasn’t large, twas exactly how they needed it right now; it shone some light onto Ian. Pun.

“Green,” he pointed out importantly, the smile which he sported a bit wider, and also cheeky.

Delightfully.

Already, he’d set his backpack down, and was offering the man his left leg, the cut being located on the calf-- wrapped, and in fact treated with an almost medical care-- hurried, as you would, due to the time constraints.

That, he would assume, was natural.

“Got it just before you found me like-- maybe ten, fifteen minutes before that. So, fun times. But babe you’re being so professional,” he cooed, in a sweetly warm tone-- a little shake of his head given as he adopted, honestly, a persona he ain’t seen on himself--

Something just.

Soft.

Just blood, and flesh.

He squinted--

“Where you got your training? Medical care isn't really... topnotch nowadays," he mused, frowning as he did.
Posted 05-07-2021, 03:00 PM
Played by    55 Posts Ian Donnaghan
The stranger gave a name...Ian suspected that it was most likeky a false one; then again, it didn't really matter. It was "Solas'" choice as to whether or not he gave his true name, plus there was always a chance that the two may never encounter one another again. The blue-eyed man would ask the doctor another flirty question or two...but he did not answer. He had already become engrossed in inspecting the wound; the bandaging and the cleaning was hasty, but remarkably well done...could do with a bit more careful examination. Once he began to reach into the bag, he answered "Solas" questions in one big go.

"In my old community, on board a former cruise ship, we had to do it the old-fashioned way; I was apprenticed to one of our comunity's doctors." It was a story that Ian had told many times for eight years now; he had told it so many times that it was practically akin to breathing for him; it was ultimately a mix of truth and deception on his part. "His name was Nazeem Meerhaba, he was a doctor back in the world that was; even though he was old, he was still very damn good at his job; for ten years, he taught us the ethics and practices of old, passing onto us what he and his colleagues had learned. Hence why I took care to further barricade the entrance to this attic, severed the cord and made it accessible to those who need only use a wooden stick."

With the cover story of how he had acquired his medical knowledge given, Ian immediately get back to tending to the wound. Using his own materials, he pulled out a small phial containing a and a bandage. The doctor emptied its contents on to the fabric, before pulling out a neatly carved stick from his satchel; this item had a large piece of fabric in the middle, the teeth marks indicating that it served a more...dental purpose.

"Alright, this bandage is covered in home-made chitosan...a substance that was designed to help boost your clotting factor for a particular wound as well as further clean it. However, its going to burn like a bitch, so I will need you to bite on this biting stick so that, if you feel like screaming multiple profanities, you'll be venting it on this instead."

With that said, once his patient has the stick in place, Ian would begin wrapping the bandage; he definitely anticipated that it would hurt "Solas" quite a bit.

Tag Jessie Michels
Posted 05-07-2021, 04:51 PM
Played by    115 Posts Jessie Michels
And so, the man explained.

His voice flowed out, the only important anchor of the point; the light of the torch, the quiet of the night and its haunting distant growls-- if there should a shriek stab the night, a man had died; a creature with a pulse; to further a life of the wrong, creatures mutated after years of human intervention and Jessie supposed, and only supposed that none that mattered--

For the world would move on.

And the man would talk.

I A N

He talked.

His voice became a meadow, for once, yet where most should imagine one gorgeous and sun-basked, Jessie’s would be with a gray, burgeoning overcast; his would include a wind and the trees that bent in it, that looked too thin and ready to be swept off their feet; he imagined how the forest knew to bow down, and its treetops swung about, merry cousins to fright.

He imagined, too, the very flowers upon it, some black not due to the death they represented but rather that occasional dotting of life, and the choice to blacken self ‘cause twas right; some would be yellow; and bright; some fastened on the colors of a rainbow-lit sky.

And the grass bent as well, and the story concluded.

And Jessie guessed--

Forty.

This man could be forty.

Something ‘round that--

And he concluded, too, that if old this Nazeem had been, he had been old; the ten years one invested in training a man like Ian-- a world like theirs; and with 2010 being so, so far in the past--

2095, Jessie repeated to himself, and Jessie thought, and thought, imagining that to become a doctor had taken so long-- years, too, invested in a world with universities and student loans, and how old had this Nazeem.

Really been.

When he had been teaching this one, and how long in the past, was it since Ian was ten, was it since he’d been twenty, or thirty--

How old.

Jessie squinted his eyes in casual thought, and obediently turned to the hatch like a proper, neat student.

--over a hundred.

So Jessie looked back at Ian.

Smiled.

“Yeah,” he said with a small scoff, “I learned from my parents.” There was a bitterness to that; surely that one portion of the child him that remembering hating, hating everything--

And Jessie looked away.

Behind his eyes, memories came to life; he imagined a room and a table; he remembered that it’d been reinforced, sound-proof and equipped--

With tools a-plenty.

He remembered the women and men mom and dad had brought here and the scalpels they’d placed in his clammy, small hand--

He remembered.

Jessie blinked.

He glanced back at the man.

Chitosan; his smile indeed-- indeed that was what the chemical did; homemade, Ian had revealed.

Twas also made by treating the chitin shells of crustaceans using an alkaline substance.

Where would you get that, Ian? And how easily?

Not a drifter, then.

Jessie sighed.

He sighed the offered stick.

“I do have a high pain threshold,” he replied rather recklessly, before--

He winced; hard; at once, the searing pain shut his eyes, clenched his jaw; he paled, and yet no matter the quick sweat that dotted his temples, he did not scream--

Neither utter a cuss word.

His hands balled, though.

He exhaled only once the bandaging was over.

“You’re good at this,” he felt the need to stress, sporting a shameless, but also strained smile; the pain throbbed on, though soon should fade, and he needed to cross his legs.

Then, came a better exhale.

“Tell me, why does a man like you help a man like me?"

He surveyed Ian, finally inspecting with a clear look of wariness, and curiosity.

"I could be anyone," he voiced, concern bleeding into his tone--

Something tired, and old.

"I could be the worst person you've ever imagined, and the last one to deserve your help."
Posted 05-08-2021, 01:11 PM
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