snowblindrpg | Event: Consolidation Theory, Part Four and Five

[Rhys is spending most of his time resting in between the chats he's had with familiar faces, or even unfamiliar faces, but when he hears House's voice, he lifts his head again, trying to turn toward it as best he can.

There's a lot of gauze, more than is convenient and most of it covering the right side of his face. At least his hair was too short to pull, or he'd probably be missing that, too, but there's fingernail scratches over what skin shows of his face, and he moves with the slow care of someone who's generally had the shit beaten out of them.]

Meh. Not my tastes, if I was gonna pick someone to chew on. You're too bitter and stringy.

Why does no one wanna do this? You guys were all, 'Cannibalism? Hell yeah!' last night. Now I ask for a nibble and it's, like, 'Ew, gross! We've gone vegan, Dr. House.'

[He might be leaning hard on the snark and sarcasm for a coping mechanism at the moment.]

Fad diets are a bitch, aren't they?

[He has to chuckle in spite of himself. House is terrible, but this is all terrible.]

What is this, a forensics thing? Easier to match bite patterns if it's not your ankle.

If you really want to come over here and promise not to kick me, though...

[Memory triggering. He gets it. However, between Brian breaking his nose at the convenience store and... Whatever happened last night, he can't take much more face damage.]

[At least he tries to be funny while being terrible so everyone can be entertained by the horror. Horror-tained, if you will.]

I had one of you gnawing on my ankle last night. You get to the gnawing, you might remember more. Or I might remember which of you was doing it.

[His heart beats just a little faster as he does step through the barrier, though, and approach Rhys. He eyes the man warily, but he's not running away. They might actually learn something here.]

[The whole thing seems surreal to Rhys, considering he's half blind and crippled in a cell and doesn't remember anything aggressive, never mind how he even got this mangled. It he hurt someone else? He has no idea.

On the other hand, not so long ago he did also tell House he's killed people before, so there's that too, as incongruous as it might be right now. The older man probably has a few reasons not to feel safe with him.

Rhys picks himself up slowly off the bed, moving with the painful care of someone who isn't sure what's going to hurt next. His left hand and arm feel next to useless, bandaged up as they are, but he's doing the best he can: he'll manage for now.

Walk back through the whole thing, one step at a time. See what registers, see what surfaces. He's done this before, just not in such horrible circumstances.]

You think you were on the floor?

I was on the floor.

[On the floor, on his knees, a foot slamming into his jaw. Once. Twice. The taste of blood in his mouth. House blinks rapidly for a few seconds, heart picking up, before he moves to slump down on the floor. He stretches out his legs, wincing with the movements. This is incredibly dangerous. Rhys might remember and go into another frenzy. But House can't not do it.]

Get down and bite me. See if you remember anything.

[This is a terrible idea. But it might give... Something, and it's less terrible then several other possible ideas, better than sitting here in silent misery, so Rhys hitches down to his knees next to the other man, trying to imagine how it would play out.

It's not difficult. House crawling and dragging... Whoever was chasing him behind, clutching and biting. Except the biting still doesn't fit, not in Rhys's black hole of memories, because he's been there in other times in his life and it doesn't seem right.

Biting was always the last thing, when every other option was gone. Brutal, primal, desperate. But then he feels the aching pit where his eye was, the burn of raw nail scratches, and he just doesn't know.]

No tobasco sauce so m just gonna go for it. Try not to bust any of my teeth, i'd like to stay at least a little pretty.

I remember it being you busting some of mine, I'm returning the favor. [He won't, but it's just... banter. House needs banter right now to keep from losing it. Wilson would probably try to stop him doing this. No sense in bringing up the trauma for the both of them. If there's something there to find, though, they need to find it. Desperately so.]

Just do it.

[House's voice is hoarse, but tight, and he's eyeing Rhys like a wounded rat might eye a particularly hungry-looking cat.]

We'll, that makes one of us, anyway. [Rhys would try and talk House out of this, or sit on him and keep him from doing any of this crazy shit, but he does see value in what the older man is trying to do and more importantly, Rhys thinks he's able to do it without fucking House up worse.

Rhys is very, very good at control. At dealing with having his mind fucked with. And he won't hurt House out of spite or laughs. If this was going to happen anyway? Rhys is the best, safest person to do it.

He eyes the offered ankle, then... There's really no getting comfortable for this... Bites down firmly on House's foot, hard enough to leave an imprint without ripping. It brings an immediate, visceral, and not pleasant response- desperate, sickening- but he holds on, his good hand clutching at the leg of House's bodysuit and tangling with the cloth to try and drag the taller man back toward him.

He can't take while he's doing this, of course. And he's not going to take a chunk. But it's as close to real s he can get without crossing the line into "too fucked up to cope with".]

[He'd sort of just been anticipating a bite on his uninjured ankle. Some gnawing for effect. House really had been not anticipating the grip and pull on his leg. Panic sets in almost immediately, even as he tries to tamp it down. He struggles against Rhys instinctively, just managing to resist the urge to kick the other man in the head. Instead, House rolls over and tries to crawl away, uninhibited by a chain this time.

The best option would be to scream uncle here, call it off. But he needs to give Rhys' memory time to lock in on this, see if he can remember any part of it. House is terrified, though, and he's doing everything he can to drag himself away short of hitting back at the druid latched onto him.]

[It's funny how it's the least of things that has the worst effect.

Sparks of memory flicker in Rhys's mind: the feel of skin under his nails (his own?), biting-ripping-struggling, and his heart starts to pound as House starts to fight him, really fight him.

But he's done this before. His life experience is his armor and he's had the shit beaten out of him more times than he can count. What's a horrible trauma for most people is just another day at work for him.

Rhys pushes back the panic, forces himself to breathe through it. He's had his teeth on House long enough to leave a print that can be compared, and that was part of his goal so he releases the bite, breathes in air that smells of blood and antiseptic and the sudden sharpness of panic sweat.]

House.

[Rhys lets go and House is scrambling immediately for safety, just outside the cell with a door that he can't see.]

Mama, just killed a man.
Put a gun against his head,
pulled my trigger now he's dead...

[The song is sung under his breath, trying to calm himself. Rhys might remember House and Stephen singing it back and forth loudly, maybe even joining in himself, when they were trapped in the cultist cells. House grips his hair, closes his eyes and tries to get his breathing under control through singing the lyrics.]

Edited 2018-05-05 16:50 (UTC)

[Well shit. Rhys had been reluctant to let go of House's leg, afraid of him fleeing too far in a panic and getting into trouble, but there wasn't much other choice and it's a relief when the older man tucks into a corner not too far away.

Rhys's heart is still pounding, mouth dry, but he's got control. Deep breath, let it out. Focus on the floor under him. Getting up is the last thing on his mind right now, so he lays there and listens to House's mutters, remembering that night in the Cells, closing his eyes and trying to re-center himself amid all of it.

His head hurts like it did there. His hands and tail hurt like they did there. Everything is a mess again and he's literally helpless on the floor, again. But he'll try and drag himself up, just because there's not much else to do.]

House. Hey. House. S'alright. I'm here. Not going to hurt you, okay? I'm staying over here.

I know! [It's snapped. Logically, he knows. Getting his body to cooperate with what his conscious brain is telling it is where the disconnect is happening. But he keeps singing under his breath, keeps struggling to push everything back down. He needs to compare the bites.

Hands shaking slightly still, the doctor reaches for the bandage that's around one ankle and undoes it. It reveals a bloody, scraped over wound. Someone was very clearly latched onto House while he'd been twisting, turning struggling even more desperately to escape.]

Get over here and compare them. [The words are gritted out.] It's hard for me to do at this angle.

[Kindness doesn't work. He should know better, but it's his first reflex. And House is lucid, so that's the important thing either way.

Back to the usual, back to Getting Things Done. Rhys pushes himself up, using his legs so he doesn't have to rely on his wrecked arm, and moves toward House, but pulls up short of the force field.]

I can't get any further, you're gonna have to come back in here.

[Don't, don't, don't. Danger!

House shove his terrified lizard brain down so that he can crawl back to Rhys and force himself to stick his legs into the cell. With the evidence presented, House just bites hard on his own knuckle to self-soothe, even as it sends waves of pain through his abused face. He waits for the other man to check. Unfortunately, with the mess that House's injured ankle is, bite over bite, torn skin, it's impossible to match up if Rhys' teeth marks are there among the chaos.]

[Rhys is going to do this as gently as he can, but he can practically feel House's tension, even without his powers. So...he talks, because that's the best he can do to soothe House.]

I'm working at literally half capacity here, so go easy on me. Not going to grab you but I need some steadiness here.

[He's still half-laying on his side because his left arm doesn't want to cooperate, but his right side is good. He carefully grabs House's ankle, holding it only firmly enough to support himself and get a good look at the wounds.]

Usually when I do this, the leg isn't attached to anything. Makes it a hell of a lot easier.

[Rhys knows teethmarks. Humanoid: rounded, no fangs but the short, mostly useless incisors. Lots of bruising along with the ripping. Whatever tore into House's leg was determined, but not well-equipped.

And then there's his own teeth marks, light but clear enough to read: too neat and complete for his history of drug addiction.]

...too much damage and tearing. Can't get a clear comparison. All I can tell is that they're human teeth.

And fuck, I hope one of the shots they gave us was tetanus.

[House makes a face, pure irritation coursing through him. He should really have been able to work it out on his own. But he'd hoped there might be a chance someone else could make out the marks where he can't. Maybe Will? Hannibal? Asking Hannibal to take a look at his leg and judge the biting technique is an invitation to far too much cannibalistic innuendo, though.]

Great. So someone bit me and I might have tetanus or rabies.

[House withdraws his legs and scoots outside the cell again. It's not that he doesn't trust Rhys--at least in this area, he trusts the other man--but his heart is still jack-hammering and he's trying to get that under control. Being out of immediate reach can at least give him the illusion of safety for the lizard brain to grasp hold of.]

You don't remember anything about who did that to your eye?

I remember a struggle. But no details about it. I don't know.

[He carefully hitches himself all the way up again, to shuffle back to his bed. It hurts less to sit up, even if it makes his head throb, and it gives House some space.]

Fights happen fast even when you aren't drugged. And I was hallucinating before. Someplace totally different.

[He sits quietly for a minute, giving it all his thought. If House was willing to put himself through that kind of trauma again to try and remember, Rhys can give it everything he's got.]

I bit someone. Scratched. Was scratched. Someone bent my arm back.

I don't know. Taking out an eye isn't easy with your bare hands.

[He didn't have much vision in it before, but he would have seen it coming. Would have fought.

Wouldn't he? Did he do it himself, somehow? Trying to "fix" what was already defective?

And how much of this is just guessing, from the type of injuries he's got?]

Beckett did it to Kelly months ago. [When Charlie and Charles had been traveling together, as he recalls.]

You were probably in a frenzy when it happened. Might not've felt anything at all.

[House remembers feeling everything.]

Oh, I've seen it done, they're just balls full of goo. Just...

[It seems likes something he should remember, that's all. He remembers when he lost his sight the first time, after all. In agonizing, high definition detail.

He trails off, though, since he knows he's not telling House anything he doesn't know.]

Yeah. Between the drugs and whatever else they did to us. Gave us. Whatever. Something about the lines.

[He rubs his face, then carefully gets up again, retrieving the cup from his dinner tray.]

Maybe we were trying to get back what was "taken" from us. When the unmarked turned on us, and started trying to pry things out of us.

[He heads to the bathroom, just long enough to run the water, pour himself a quick drink, then fill the cup again. He shuffles back out, heads to the edge of the cell, and sets the cup of water down. Then retreats out of reach again, back to the bed.]

Water, if you want. I'll stay over here, I promise.

[He's being treated like a scared, wounded animal, and while that's probably not an inaccurate assessment of his current mental state, House doesn't particularly like it. His panic is still in the back of his head, but he forces it to one side so that he can get himself sorted and stand up.]

I wouldn't drink or eat anything down here with all the mold, dude. I'll talk to you later. I need to... check other people's injuries. See if your bite matches up to them, maybe.

[Probably not, but it's a goal to focus on.]

[Rhys pauses and frowns, tilting his head to better catch House in his field of vision.]

Mold? It's all steel in here.

[It stings that House is shutting down, but he doesn't want to be coddled and Rhys is too sore and tired to push. Not that it would do any good anyway.

Fuck, he misses his powers. Yet again, that helplessness washes over him, but he plucks at his bandages, instead, reassuring himself that he doesn't want to be able to feel everyone's pain and panic. Not really.]

It's moldy and dank. You just can't see it. Be careful what you touch.

[That's the final word of warning his has before shuffling off.]

[Rhys frowns, about to point out that House isn't exactly seeing things clearly, either.

Then he remembers that he spent past of the past few days screaming at a dead woman, watching bloody footprints and ghosts, and he's not sure what to think.

So he just falls quiet, staring at the cup on the floor for a long time after, until he's tired enough to close his eyes again.]

Event: Consolidation Theory, Part Four and Five

B: CWs plus implied eye loss

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw: violence; blood; tooth loss

cw: violence; blood; tooth loss, eye loss, biting

cw: violence; blood; tooth loss, eye loss, biting

cw: violence; blood; tooth loss, eye loss, biting

cw: violence; blood; tooth loss, eye loss, biting; PTSD; panic attack

cw: violence; blood; tooth loss, eye loss, biting; PTSD; panic attack

cw: violence; blood; tooth loss, eye loss, biting; PTSD; panic attack

cw: violence; blood; tooth loss, eye loss, biting; PTSD; panic attack

cw: violence; blood; tooth loss, eye loss, biting; PTSD; panic attack

cw: violence; blood; tooth loss, eye loss, biting; PTSD; panic attack

cw: cannibalism; blood; tooth loss, eye loss, biting; PTSD; panic attack

cw: cannibalism; blood; tooth loss, eye loss, biting; PTSD; panic attack

cw: cannibalism; blood; tooth loss, eye loss, biting; PTSD; panic attack

cw: cannibalism; blood; tooth loss, eye loss, biting; PTSD; panic attack

cw: cannibalism; blood; tooth loss, eye loss, biting; PTSD; panic attack

cw: cannibalism; blood; tooth loss, eye loss, biting; PTSD; panic attack

cw: cannibalism; blood; tooth loss, eye loss, biting; PTSD; panic attack

cw: cannibalism; blood; tooth loss, eye loss, biting; PTSD; panic attack

cw: cannibalism; blood; tooth loss, eye loss, biting; PTSD; panic attack

/end