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snowblindrpg2015-06-09 11:11 pm
[log] who says aye anymore? [closed]
Location between J3 and L4, and eventually building 26.
Date: Day 003, afternoon-ish (unless that doesn't work for katy!)
Summary: Clarke and an old sick guy going through withdrawal walk into a bar.
Warnings: like I said, Hook's going through withdrawal. otherwise I'll update if anything comes up!
[ Clarke feels a restlessness beyond cabin fever, like she has to keep traveling to get away from invisible watchful eyes. she spent most of her time in 79 yesterday, drifting off to sleep on a mattress in the basement before being awoken by a sharp pain. her last expedition left her uneasy, the memories of the insane scrawling on the walls fresh in her mind, but staying put is worse. she doesn't know where she's going, exactly, but she keeps a mental map in her head: after leaving the house, she walks by a building. then another one, surrounded by rubble. it's curious enough that it might contain clues about Norfinbury, so she goes inside to explore. she returns with no answers and a golf club. it isn't much, but knowing she'll have something resembling a weapon if she needs one comforts her.
by afternoon, she's passed another building. she keeps it in mind, knowing that she'll need a reprieve from the frigidity soon, but doesn't enter yet. she's been terribly lonely — the tablets provide some form of interaction, but not enough — so she sets out to search the perimeter for human life. Clarke must look almost feral: her hair is mussed up from the snow, her cheeks are flushed an unflattering shade of red, and she carries with her a waterproof bag and a golf club. she grips them protectively; they're the only possessions she has in the world right now, and she'd like to keep them.
her grip tightens as she spots a figure in the distance. friend or foe? fellow captive or captor? the mysterious ADMIN doesn't seem to want them hurt, since they administered a vaccine. even if it is her captor, she'd have a face to put to the username. if it isn't, and it's just another lost soul like her, it will have been worth it. she takes the plunge, squinting and calling out to the figure, ] Hello?
My name is Clarke. [ she holds up her hands in a gesture of innocence. ] I'm a friend.
no subject
he'd already felt sick enough, the fact he was possibly hallucinating was not too much of a shock. he knew how badly lack of drink a man that had always had it could be. the eerie writing scrawling across the notebook he found, the odd visions of people he knew quite well should be dead, older, or just trapped in Neverland... he didn't know what to blame on his body revolting, or on the absurd place he'd found himself in.
that odd prick had not set him at better ease, nor had it made him feel better.
he'd honestly considered not leaving his bed, and he might have been better off that way. instead, he pigheadishly pushed out anyway. all he found was fluff and snow, his footsteps too heavy and too labored to even pay much mind to what he was passing. he was freezing, woozy, and shaking—half from cold and half from the sickness lack of drink wrought. he didn't see the figure in the snow until she was literally upon him. he looked as dazed as he was when he winced pale eyes in her direction, taking her in. blonde, young. a friend. well, hard to say. she might just be another figment of his ailing head, hard to say how friendly those were, but he didn't actually recognize her face. or that name. )
Is there shelter near? ( it's obvious from how pale he is and how rasped his voice is that he really needs it. he's not sure how much longer he can keep walking. )
no subject
Yeah, there is. I'll take you there.
[ carefully, like he's a deer she might frighten off, she approaches. she makes a gesture as if to put her right arm around his back to help him walk, but doesn't actually touch him. Clarke will drag him if he falls unconscious into the snow, but as long as he's cognizant, it's him who decides whether or not he needs support. her face is empathetic at best, pitying at worst: her brows drawn upwards, wide eyes exacerbated by the dark circles beneath them, mouth curled down into a frown. this is the first she's seen of him; all she can say about Hook is that he's frail and sickly at the moment. he could always be, for all she knows.
so she treats him like a patient, taking on the role of doctor. she's used to it. Clarke may not be an actual doctor by the technical definition — she has no certification, has not graduated from med school — but she's treated illnesses and wounds aplenty. for a long time, before Abby came down, she was the go-to girl for any medical problems. ]
Are you okay? Did something happen?
no subject
perhaps he should be more wary of this girl. he's hallucinated plenty since he's arrived, she very well could be more of the same... even though granted, this would be an odd thing to imagine. she's cautious and he suspects that only makes sense in a place like this. he can't be much of a threat as he is now. in fact there's a margin of him that's impressed that she bothers to care about a stranger that can't mind themselves.
not everyone would.
he lifts an arm in return, a bitter agreement that he needs help getting to wherever they're going. it's a relief that there's a place, though she doesn't say if it's far or not. what if he can't get that far? no, he's going to—he has to. the question is awkward, because if he admits he thinks his sickness is from lack of drink, she might think he's not deserving of help. ) My first day. Had a dip in cold water.
( that was just the start of his problems, but surely it didn't help either. )
no subject
Clarke feels responsible for him in a way, responsible for all of them there. maybe it's because she hasn't quite realized that she isn't expected to lead here, where no one knows her name or where she comes from, but it's not just that. she's done so many things she's not proud of and, though no amount of good deeds will ever wipe the images from her mind, she wants to be better. be the good guy. ]
There's a house not too far from here. I haven't gone in yet, but it looks intact. It'll keep you warm, at least.
[ there are no antibiotics here, though. she hopes the Admin will treat him as they treated the others, despite how unpleasant waking up to a sharp jab had been. she has to admit that she feels infinitely better, her vision clear and her heart jumping less every time she enters a new building. and now she has this, the first human she's seen yet. she had begun to feel like the last girl on the planet. ]
Can you explain your symptoms? Have you been coughing, sneezing? Are you nauseous or feverish?
no subject
he nods, head spinning and stomach lurching so he forces himself to focus on walking instead of trying to answer. even with her support, moving around is far from easy. every step is labored, indicative of far more than just a bit of fever. no, lack of drink had a way of screaming into every sense, leaving every part of him desperate for another...
and there was not another to be had.
Hook starts to lean on her a bit heavily the farther they move. at least being so out of it, the cold hits him less. frankly he's not dressed for it, the leather coat he's got is not great for holding in heat. there wasn't much of a say in the matter. ) Just... sick. Dizzy. ( he just nodded at the last bit, he was feverish—and his head wasn't totally screwed on straight, clearly, considering he'd answered partly and then nodded at nothing in particular.
hopefully they'd make it to this house soon, or he might pass out in the snow. )
no subject
Don't worry. It's just up ahead.
[ she uses her free hand to point to a building in the distance. it's not terribly far, but somehow the stretch of land seems longer when she's lugging around a grown man. the discomfort doesn't show on her face or in her voice; Clarke has mastered the ability of appearing strong, unshakable. whatever she feels is probably only a tenth of what he's feeling, and right now she has to take on a caretaker role. it's easy and quick, like slipping into a pair of well-loved jeans. she hasn't been Clarke Griffin, teenage girl in so long. playing her various parts is second nature to her now.
she asks no questions on the walk over, says nothing but muffled assurances like almost there. in the back of her mind, she worries that he'll fall over into the snow. through all the illnesses she's treated, wounds she's stitched up, she's never been able to take empathy out of the equation. the truth isn't befitting of an unbreakable girl, but when she looks at him or feels him slumping over some more, she's afraid. there's no medicine. no one is coming to help them, and it'll be impossible to survive if he isn't well. there's a very real possibility that he could die here.
but he won't, she tells herself, nobody is going to die here.
she stumbles into the house, cold down to her bones. the sudden shelter makes her feel almost overheated until she adjusts to it. in reality, it's still colder than she's ever been. steadying Hook against a wall, she says, ] I need you to stay here. You can sit if you need to, but don't fall asleep yet. Can you do that?
SO SORRY this got lost in my inbox somewhere ;3;
it's good she doesn't try for more conversation, he doesn't know that he could have made it. all he has is focusing on moving, and gradually not even that is enough. without her, he probably would have just collapsed in snow. a fate that would not have ended well. the fact he makes it to the shelter she spoke to him about is entirely based on the fact he had someone to help them there. even with his head spinning and his stomach wrenching and every bit of his tired, useless body protesting just existing, he knows that.
and then suddenly they stop moving, and there is something solid behind him. he grunts and it might have been surprise, or pain, he's not even sure anymore. he blinks at the space around them with absolute unawareness of how they got there, like he'd been walking and not seeing for half their journey. he slumps toward the ground almost immediately now that he has the option to not move, but he swallows heavily and nods at the instruction not to sleep.
not an easy instruction to take, actually, once he's sitting; the cold bothers less when he's got so much else drawing his attention. he can't quite speak, so hopefully the nod is enough. )
no worries ♥
[ she takes one last look at him, slumped over and barely responsive, and swallows thickly. this moment takes her back to when she first set foot on the ground: no food, no water, no supplies. the lack of medicine was a hurdle; they'd found a seaweed antiseptic then, but there's been nothing but ice and snow as far as she can see.
Clarke takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. she had conquered this problem before, she would conquer it again. before she has time to worry more, her feet move on their own, boots clomping through the hallway. find a bathroom. raid the medicine cabinet. her anxiety is slightly assuaged as she sees the lived-in look. it lets her hope that someone was here recently, and they left a miraculous cure to all their problems behind. she opens every door she finds, crashing into the downstairs bathroom. she flings open every cabinet and looks in every nook and cranny.
nothing.
she turns to the shower and breaks out into an incredulous smile. there's a bottle of conditioner there. she feels ridiculous for feeling such relief, but this bottle means something. there are still things here. there has to be. a wave of reassurance washes over her and, in an optimistic move, she pulls the shower faucet. Hook may or may not hear the sound of water pouring down onto the tile below, followed by a strangled noise of surprise. it was too optimistic to assume the water would at least be lukewarm. still, if he wants a wet cloth on his forehead, it will be possible.
the next room she dashes into is a bedroom. she only takes one look at it before she's bounding back the way she came and crouching down in front of Hook. Clarke takes care to speak quietly so as not to aggravate his headache, but she doesn't hesitate to snake her hands under his arms and begin to hoist him up. it's not like he's going to do it himself. with a labored breath, she says: ]
There's a bed, right down the hall. Just get there, and I promise I won't make you move any more. [ she says this with a twinge of sympathy. it's a necessary evil. ] There's water if you want a cloth on your head — [ by cloth, she really means extra fabric she'll rip off her sleeve or hemline, most likely. there's still the upstairs to check for washcloths, but it seems wise to have a backup plan ] — and the bed is big, you'll be warm.
[ aaaand since I'm assuming Clarke is practically Weekend At Bernies-ing Hook right now, she slowly but surely drags him into the room and releases him onto the bed. she doesn't have the strength to fully hoist him up there in one shot, but she'll assist him in getting his whole self onto the mattress. ]
lol tl;dr is always fine with me!
this is so much worse than that.
Hook loses track of time when the girl is gone. he can nearly forget that anyone is with him, lost to his thoughts. he tries to focus on the curl of his gut and the wind howling out the door, anything but the gray that invites he rest and not bother waking. he can't even startle when she suddenly returns, and the pirate is not much help in getting to his feet, either. her words keep blending together — promise, cloth, warm — he doesn't know what it all means, but he struggles to clamber after her and more or less collapses where she puts him.
its not wise for the pirate to sleep with his hook affixed to his brace. it'd probably be smarter to actually attempt to get under blankets. it's too late, though, he blacks out just about seconds after hitting the mattress.
what happens to him after is up to the poor girl that is now trapped with the sick, feverish drunk. )