week 4

[stagemanagers]

[Another week, and two more dead. King Richard and Red are both gone, and once again, it was through nothing more than an accident in the heat of the moment. Maybe if you all stay calm and collected, nothing bad will happen again?

Well, maybe not.

When you wake on Sunday, you'll find that you've recovered another one of those memories - or had another dream, if you still wanna be in denial about it. The grounds remain as they are, but this time, the door blocking the stairwell has been unsealed. You can now venture up to the second floor! This is the second time that's happened; it's almost as if you get more space every time someone dies. Or maybe the whole place just seems quieter.]

Sunday | Monday | Tuesday | Wednesday | Thursday


(( Welcome to Week 4! Please remember to submit your AC and your memory regains, as well as your coins! You can also still contact the Phantom. ))

Comments

[heathencall]

[Mephisto doesn't respond, not really. He merely grunts at Stephen and continues to watch the liquid. He stops only to glance over at his companion and watch his expression. Stephen knows better than him, after all.]

[37773972]

[He's clearly focusing hard on this, and has taken every precaution he can think of. Gear, blocking, tools, and for a worst-case-scenario, if he spills and hurts himself, he has someone who can help. Someone who'll never let him forget it, mind, but someone who can help without panicking like one of the kids would. That's another reason he asked Mephisto to help, as opposed to anyone else - Mephisto's seen his share of injuries, he imagines, and can keep his head on his shoulders in the sight of one. The teens...well.

The teens have enough on their plate.

Slowly, once again, he pulls the mixture off the heat. Slowly he starts pouring it in to another, the liquid hissing softly as it pours from one glass to the next.




crck goes the lines in the glass.]

[heathencall]

[Mephisto's just starting to relax into his former position when he hears the faint cracking of glass. His attention shifts from Stephen to the the glass in his hand, some part of his brain recognizing the danger without being conscious of the how or why of it.

At his current vantage point, he'd guess that there's only a tangential risk of injury. The same can't be said of Stephen. For all the safety equipment they've managed to cobble together, Mephisto knows well enough that it won't do much to help. He also knows that he doesn't have time to get it far enough away from the other man.

So. He settles for something else. He feels a faint rush of energy, before a burst of yellowed feathers extends outward. He doesn't have time to see where it goes. Before he can process what he or his companion have done, the glass bursts.]

[37773972]

[If Stephen knew a little more about physics - specifically, temperature differentials, and the effect it can have on glass, especially glass not designed for this kind of thing - he might have gone through some additional precautions. As it is, it's like the seconds suddenly creep in to minutes in to hours-

-he sees the cracks grow, and grow-

-he sees familiar energy radiating out from Mephisto-

-he has the sinking feeling that He Fucked Up-

and just like that, it all catches up with him. Mainly from the sudden sensation of heat and pain on his arms, which has him stumbling back with a scream-]

FUCK!

[heathencall]

[Stephen screams. Mephisto doesn't.

He's felt pain before -- falling from the heaven and plummeting into the Earth itself. This... isn't that bad. But it comes close.

Pain lances up his wing and arm. An awful, acrid smell -- not unlike burning hair -- fills the air. His vision goes white, blinded by a thousand stars supernovaing all at once as his nerves send signals of pain and danger to every inch of his body. He tries to blink through it, to see the damage, to know that Stephen still stands.

It's a futile effort.

His knees feel weak, his knees no longer able to support his weight. They shake once before giving out, and it's only by some subconscious function that he catches himself. One wing, the still in tact one, curls around himself, a shield against further pain. The injured one flops to the ground limply, still radiating pain into his spine and up into his brain.]

[isawallflower]

[ It's been a goddamn week and it appears...it's going to keep being one. Riley wants to not think about anything, turn on a stupid movie or something. What happens instead is she hears a sound, a scream, and her blood runs cold.

She's so sick of hearing people scream.

She blatantly ignores the DO NOT ENTER sign and bursts into the coffee shop, honestly expecting the worst. ]

Ohmygod, are you- what happened-?!

[ Stephen she heard, but Mephisto's there too. Oh, this. This is bad, she feels like she's underwater. Here she's standing at the cafe door, like a few days ago, watching the aftermath of a disaster, and for a moment she can't breathe.

Riley decides to stop thinking. She swoops over to...to Stephen first, calling out: ] HELP! Someone, we need some help in here!

[37773972]

[It feels like his skin is on fire, and for a few long moments, he's unable to do anything to process, gasping through the pain and curling his hands to his chest. Through bleary eyes, he can see Mephisto on the ground- hurt. And the fire is now accompanied by ice in his veins, but before he can think too much of it, there's Riley.

Riley.

He forces himself to bring something back together, looking up shakily]

Water- sink, Riley, turn on the sink. Need to rinse this.

[Oh God, there's blood. There's glass shards in his arms. Does that make it bad to rinse? He doesn't know. You do rinse chemicals off-

-did Mephisto get hurt by this? Because of him? Fuck.]

Get- I can rinse, help Mephisto. Get him to water. [There's more than one sink in here. And if there wasn't, he can wait.]

[isawallflower]

[ Okay. Fix It Mode. She can do this. Riley doesn’t waste a moment, even though she’s staring at the glass in his arms and—

On goes the sink. On it goes and everything will be fine, right? She doesn’t think, just does what she’s told, and that includes hurrying to Mephisto. ]

It’s okay. It’s okay, just lean on me, we’re gonna take care of this.

[garbageface]

[ If there's one thing Santana's learned from the Red and Richard tragedy, it's if someone screams, you investigate. Which is why Santana has burst into the cafe, already cranky. ]

Oh my god, could you please keep it down, some of us are trying to have our Drew-Barrymore-and-Ellen-Page-Whip-It fantasies in peace, gosh --

[ Santana shuts up once she's finally managed to take in the scene. Oh, no. Her annoyance turns to shock, then to fear.

It looks like Riley's managing Mephisto, so Santana makes a beeline for Stephen, only feeling a little queasy when she sees that he's got glass in his arms. ]

Shit -- okay -- you've gotta get that glass out. How deep does it go?

[37773972]

I don't know. I don't- don't touch it. There's- fuck. [It hurts, it fucking hurts. Even with the water, it hurts, and he doesn't want to look at it, so he looks at her, instead, doing his damnedest to keep from showing how much it hurts.] The glass exploded, please be careful. There's probably still some chemical spill, don't touch anything.

[They are going to need to get the glass out eventually, he knows this, but- he glances towards where Riley's helping with Mephisto, then back to Santana.

The expression on his face says it all; I fucked up.]

[garbageface]

[ Santana follows Stephen's gaze, looking for a moment at Riley and Mephisto, who do not seem to be doing well. She takes a deep breath to steady herself, then turns back to Stephen and his injuries. ]

Cool. Got it. No touching.

[ At Stephen's upset expression, Santana sets her jaw and steels her gaze, shaking her head. She doesn't know what happened or who fucked up, but she knows that now is not the time to get into that. ]

I'm gonna bring over a chair. Sit if you need to, keep your arms under the water, and don't go to pieces. Did you bring -- I dunno, like, a first aid kit?

[ Santana's hoping that Stephen planned for this. If not, she'll go find what she can. ]

[37773972]

[Sitting? Sitting is good. He can sit. He can keep himself together. He nods mutely, allowing her to help direct him, because as much as he wants to howl in pain he knows she's right. This...this isn't the time.

He has to stay strong.]

Yeah. It's- it's just what was in the supply room, it's over there. [It's a really basic thing, but it's something? Not nearly enough, he thinks, but he didn't think something going bad would be this bad.

Figures. He swallows, then jerks his head.]

One of the books over there- it's medical. There's a couple bookmarks I made, just in case.

[Sadly, it's not the Entire Contents Of Wikihow, but it more or less goes over some basic treatments. Rinse with cold water for x amount of time, whether or not to induce vomiting if swallowed, etc. ]

[garbageface]

[ Thank goodness for small mercies. She gets the first aid kit and the medical book, and brings both over to the counter by the sink. She pages through the book: for chemical burns, flush with water and bandage. That's easy enough. The first aid kid has gauze and tweezers, and Santana has had enough experience with minor cuts, cheer injuries, and doing her brows that she's comfortable with both. ]

Okay. Keep rinsing that for another few minutes. I'll tell you when to stop. Then we'll take out the glass.

[ Santana starts looking Stephen up and down, scanning for any other injuries. ]

Was it just your arms that got hit?

[37773972]

[Thank God it's getting to a point where Santana can take the lead, because Stephen is barely holding on to it. He's able to lead her to where she can get the lead, at least, which is...something.]

I...[Breath. Another one, clearly trying to keep steady.] I think so. I think Mephisto- I think he took the rest.

[...how close did they get to Mephisto not being able to shield him in time?

How close did he get to dying.

It's a good thing he's sitting, now, because something seems to hit him, and- he doesn't faint, but he leans forwards, head pressing against the edge of the counter, and goes silent. If not for the occasional flex of his hands, which are clawed from the pain, one might think he had passed out.

He kind of wants to, honestly.]

[garbageface]

[ Santana won’t have time to assess Mephisto’s damage until she hands Riley the tweezers, but from the way Stephen’s talking, it doesn’t sound good. There’s a part of Santana that doesn’t want to know. If she can just focus on Stephen, right here, right now, that’ll make things easier, right?

God, this is so messed up.

Then Stephen leans forward and falls silent, and Santana figures that’s not a good sign. ]

Hey, stay with me. If you — [ santana can’t say die, so she opts for: ] lose it, I’m gonna tell everyone your stupid party sprinkler story and tarnish your reputation for, like, ever. Only a few more minutes with the water and then we can get the glass out and some painkillers in.

[ hopefully the first aid kit has some! otherwise there’s always the wine that santana got from the merch booth this morning. ]

[37773972]

[Stephen...despite himself...manages a sort of laugh. It's more a shake of his shoulders than anything else and a strangled sort of noise, but it seems like it might have been an attempt at one - and not a fake one, either. He turns his head to look at her, and manages a weak smile, as well]

Better stay awake, then, huh?

[He wants to scream. It practically hurts too much to scream. As it is, he's pale, some sweat on his brow from the strain and the emotional shock of realizing how close he was to death. Is.]

...how bad is it? Be real with me.

[Don't sugar coat it, Santana. If anyone's gonna give it to him straight, you will.]

cw vomit mention, injury discussion

[garbageface]

Mmm-hmm.

[ Santana does her best to force her usual smug tone, although it comes out a bit more tense than normal. She's trying.

She sighs. It's not good, chief. While she's not close to him, Santana's father is a doctor, and she tries to emulate his tone. ]

You've got burns all up your arms, and a few pretty large glass shards stuck in there, too. I dunno if you've got any splinters yet. You should be fine as long as none of this gets infected and if the glass doesn't go too deep. Plus, you might get some really badass scars, and then the Phantom's gonna be terrified of you.

[ Since Stephen's using the sink, Santana applies some hand sanitizer to her hands and announces: ]

Alright, you can take your arms out of the water. Riley's still working the tweezers, so I'm gonna pull out your bigger pieces with my hands. This, uh -- this might hurt.

[ Santana swallows. She's gotta keep it together, even though what she really wants to do is hurl into the nearest trash can, and maybe also punch a wall. But after this, Stephen owes her one. ]

[heathencall]

[Riley's voice, Riley's scream is like ice to his system. It doesn't take the pain away, but it provides enough of a rush for Mephisto to be able to think. The lights in his eyes, galaxies of indecipherable light, diminish, and he finds himself staring at the cafe floor. There's a mix of liquid and blood pooling on the floor beneath him, trickling from the wounds left by glass in the arm he'd thrown out and the wing he'd used to shield Stephen.

He glances up, eyes unfocused for a split second before narrowing in on Riley. His head, struck silent by everything, is abruptly bombarded by a stream of thoughts.

That Riley shouldn't see him like --
-- They should be more worried about Steph --
-- He shouldn't be wounded, he should --

Stop. [He can't tell if he's talking to himself or to Riley. Either way, his thoughts ebb for the time being.]

It's. Fine. [Even as he says this, his body shudders with a wave of pain. He tries to shift his wing around, to straighten it back out, but it doesn't seem to respond.

Gritting his teeth, he uses his undamaged arm to try and push himself to his feet. He manages to rise only halfway before he loses his balance and sinks back down.]

I'm fine. [Maybe if he repeats it, it'll be true.]

[isawallflower]

You do not get to say that to me right now. [ There’s a hard edge to her voice that he...actually hasn’t heard. With the wild, frantic look in her eyes, perhaps he can infer that this is the breaking point he tried to push her to, before she wormed her way into his heart.

She redoubles her efforts, actually sticking herself to his uninsured side. She wishes she could support the wing but- but she doesn’t want to touch anything that could. Hurt that. ] You’re going to let me help you, and we’re going to make it fine, damn it.

[heathencall]

[There's a grim twist in his chest, guilt mixed with some other foreign emotion. He doesn't like that tone in her voice, doesn't like anything about this situation. But whether he likes it or not, he concedes to her efforts, allowing at least a portion of his weight to fall against her.]

Only to the sink. I should -- [A wave of dizziness takes him, and he lets whatever thought he'd been chasing fall away. He simply nods and attempts to rise for the second time, this time with her support.]

[isawallflower]

[ The edge doesn’t leave. But she sounds a bit more herself when she assures: ] I’ve got you this time.

[ Riley’s jaw tightens in determination. Yes, he’s a foot taller than her. Yes, she’s a lithe little thing. But Riley’s no pushover. She grunts but holds his weight, leading him to the sink. ]

[heathencall]

[Mephisto braces his good arm against the sink when he reaches it. From this vantage point, he casts a glance over toward Stephen. He's been speaking, but that doesn't mean the damage isn't severe enough to kill him.

Richard had been stabbed and still had time to try and poison himself, after all.

But the damage, though severe, seems localized. He'll take it.]

I'm going to need your help lifting this. [He tilts his head toward his wing, still dragging limply behind him. Perhaps it's the adrenaline, or a sign of something worse, but he lacks the fine motor control to be able to direct the wing properly.]

[isawallflower]

[ His wing. God, okay. Riley's...going to be fine. She nudges him so he can lean on the counter. ]

I'll be right back. Okay?

[ And then grabs two nearby dishrags. She wraps them around her hands. It's probably not the best protection, but it's something, if his wing's got chemical burns on it. Gingerly, carefully, she lifts it, trying not to hurt him anymore, and gets it into the sink, best she can. ]

cw: ... wing gore?

[heathencall]

[Riley gives him enough time to prepare for what's to come. He bunches up the sleeve of his shirt within his fist, hovering over his mouth as he waits. When she appears, he fixes an intense gaze on her, breathing shuddering.]

Whatever happens. Don't stop.

[With that, he places the bunched up bits of fabric into his mouth. He doesn't know if it will be that bad but --

No. It's about that bad. He gnashes his teeth against the cloth, grunting as new bolts of pain shoot from his wing to the tips of his toes and fingers. His vision goes white again.

What Riley finds won't be a pretty sight. Mephisto's wings have never been pristine, but whatever is in the bottle has devastated it. The chemicals have all but stripped the lower half of his wings almost bare. Any downy feathers and vane are gone, and only the rachis remains of the larger feathers. Bits of glass have also buried themselves in the thin membrane there, leaving rivulets of blood to stain what feathers remain.]

[isawallflower]

[ What Riley wants to do is wrap her arms around him in a show of comfort. What she has to do is watch the damage to his wing become much, much more apparent as the water rinses away chemicals. She feels like she's going to be sick, and she almost drops the appendage, instinctively, to bring her hands to her mouth in horror.

But Riley does not do that. She's got a job to do. Even as she mutters and murmurs, almost stammering-- ] Oh my god, oh my god oh god--

[ She can't stop it. But she keeps going. She's going to keep her arms as steady as possible. She's not going to cry. A few little gasps, but no crying. Very carefully. ]

W-we need to- [ Dammit, not now. Riley tells herself it's fine, not to focus on it. ] Keep it steady. S-S-Santana! [ She turns to- oh thank god, a first aid kit. ] I-I'm gonna need some tweezers. In a minute.