applesaucedream | Encampment Under the Sea [Open to All]

Encampment Under the Sea [Open to All]

photo encampmentunderthesea_zps98ceddce.jpg

Since the dreamers of Manhattan had such a lovely time at the last vaguely-nautical-themed party, the Rift has decided to step things up a notch. Tonight, the dreamers will find themselves in what appears to be a city very much like the one they inhabit in the waking world, full of towering skyscrapers, neon signs, and heavy traffic. But there is one rather crucial difference: this city is located deep underwater, and the aforementioned traffic is mostly whales and fish, with the occasional submersible thrown into the mix.

The walls and windows are heavily reinforced to withstand the pressure of the water outside, and the people who dwell in these buildings seem to be doing rather well for themselves, for the most part. Buildings are connected by enclosed walkways, so barring any horrible accidents, the dreamers should have no problem getting around without getting too wet.

Much like the city they inhabit in the waking world, some areas are more obviously affluent than others, and the dreamers are as likely to stumble upon an upscale club as an underwater pub. But while the chances of a full structural breakdown are slim, there are definitely some areas that are on the leaky side, and a general sense of claustrophobia pervades the city wherever you might find yourself.

Explore. Or, if you're feeling particularly ambitious, attempt to escape. Either way, take care - it's hard to say what might be lurking in the darkness just beyond the city lights.

[ooc: Y'all know the drill. All characters are welcome, whether they are in the game or not. Characters can remember or forget the events of the dreaming at the player's discretion. And the party never stops - backtag into infinity!]

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Seth sighs heavily, reaching up run his free hand through his hair, ignoring the fact he's getting blood on his own face in the process, and closing his eyes tiredly. He kind of just wants to pass out for a while, but he doesn't move away from Daniel, not till he's sure the bleeding's really stopped.

"Well, you know..." he answers slowly. "I was considering just leaving you there to die, but it seemed kind of rude after you saved my life," he answers, opening his eyes to smile weakly down at Daniel.

"So, what, we call it even?" Daniel laughs, then winces sharply. Ah. No. Bad idea. Hurts to laugh.

"Think I owe you a little more than you owe me." He keeps talking, even if his throat is raw and dry (absurd, considering they are surrounded by water) because it's going to ground him and distract him from possibly the worst day he's had since he arrived in Manhattan, and if it helps Seth focus on something other than the fact that they both nearly died then it's worth it. "Dinner and a movie. I'm thinking something about deserts. Documentary on Egyptology. We can order in. Make Irish coffee. It'll be great."

He has to cough again, spitting up a small stream of revolting salt water, but looks clear so hopefully internal bleeding has stopped. No wonder his head feels less muddled (a not-so-distant part of his brain wonders at the logistics of healing powers, of whether it restores lost quantities of blood, and he nervously hopes so, because the amount of blood on his shirt and the ground is rather worrying).

Seth pulls his knee up and rests his forehead on it, exhausted but glad Daniel is improving, trying not to focus on how rough his voice sounds. He winces sympathetically when Daniel starts coughing again.

"Dinner, movie, and drinks... Sounds fun," he answers, liking the whole distraction plan. "Though you should know I never put out on the first date." This is good. Just bantering. Try not to focus on all the terrible things, or what they're going to do, or where the hell they are.

And if he were slightly more mentally present, he'd probably feel a lot more awkward about joking about that. It's probably Gabe who's rubbed off on him, to be honest. It's the sort of thing he'd say.

"I thought this was the first date." He's starting to feel a little light-headed. The big question: power-related, blood loss, or just standard perceptional error on his part? All three? Probably all three. "And - hope you don't mind me saying - your taste kind of sucks."

Next he tries shifting, preparation in case he has to make a sudden movement. Ah, ow, still hurts to do that. He checks the wound with a tentative hand, hissing a little in pain when the contact causes him to jump, involuntary. Not bleeding, at least.

"Not that I don't like the scenery, mind you." The skin feels new, barely formed. It must be still stitching itself together from the interior, though he still has no idea how this power does its job. "Working on a military base kinda gets you used to the color palette of gray, gray, and more gray." He pulls his hand back, trying not to let the strain of the motion show in his voice. "Just saying, the place could use a paint job or three."

Seth pulls back the shirt he's been blocking the bleeding with when Daniel starts to move, and look at that. It doesn't look quite as horrifically gruesome now. There's no longer a gaping hole, even if there is most definitely a wound.

"I think they messed up my reservation too, to be honest," he answers, trying not to let his worry show. It's healing a lot faster than he'd expected, which is good, but it won't stop Seth fretting, especially since at this point he can't really do anything to help. "I requested candlelight and flower petals, and instead they brought me internal bleeding. I should complain to the manager..."

"We can phone it in." He stares determinedly at the ceiling and tries not to think about the way every tiny movement still sends sharp stabs of pain up his spinal cord. "File a formal complaint. From somewhere...not here. Less water."

It's getting harder to maintain the conversation. Damn, he's dizzy. He's not even standing and he's dizzy. Light-headed. Blood loss. Most likely.

Shit.

"Candlelight and flower petals, huh?" He pulls himself together admirably enough to flash a quick, pained grin. "That's sweet."

Seth doesn't manage a smile, his face set in a deep frown. The hopelessness of the situation is starting to really set in. This area looks less dilapidated, but it's still deserted, and neither of them have the reserve energy to go exploring all that much. At least the rumbling on the other side of the wall hasn't gotten any worse. In fact, it sounds like it's been dying down. Perhaps the area back there is filling up.

"Yeah, well," he says, struggling to keep his voice light. "I can't cook, so I need to bring up my game in other ways."

He bites his lip, watching Daniel for a moment. "How are you feeling?" he asks, because he doesn't think he can ignore it any longer. Getting some status reports would help.

"Dizzy," he admits, still staring at the ceiling. Bringing his focus to a single point. Making it easier to breathe. "Really dizzy. What the hell."

Okay, not so surprising when one recalled that he'd been bleeding out for an indeterminate amount of time.

"I don't think healing covers significant internal blood loss," he continues, now frowning in an effort to not think about how acute that unsteadiness has gotten. "Ah. No. I think it's safe to say it, it has some minor failings on that part."

"What blood type are you?" he asks, even though part of him realises it's completely pointless to ask. Not like he can do anything about it. Even if they're the same, it's not like he's got any medical equipment or anything like that. Unfortunately that does not fall under office supplies. Or does it? He tries to focus on that for a moment, but nothing happens, so he figures the answer is no.

Except...

He shifts a bit and reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his kit, and then just stares at it. How could he not have noticed that was there? How has he not lost it during everything that's happened?

"Um. A-pos. I think." It's getting hard to think. He shakes his head, rapidly, and blinks very hard and tries not to focus on how the room doesn't want to hold still.

"What, uh." Realizing Seth's fallen silent, he glances his way. "What you got there?"

He squints at it, the combination of no glasses and light-headedness making it living hell to concentrate on anything.

"Morphine," he answers, opening the kit and looking at what's there. It's mercifully water-proof, and nothing seems to have been damaged. A small bottle of morphine, some rubbing alcohol, a tourniquet, tissues, and a needle. A needle which he's specifically never shared with anyone.

He frowns, running his hand through his hair, shaking his head a little at himself. "I, uh, I work at the rifties clinic sometimes, so I..." he starts, which is not a lie, but it's definitely the reason why he has this on him. "Do - do you have any, um, infections or diseases or whatever that can be passed on through blood?"

Edited 2014-10-02 01:25 (UTC)

"Not at the moment." He shuts his eyes in an effort to keep the room from swaying. "Er, to my knowledge."

And realizes belatedly that this is a less-than-stellar testimony of his personal health.

To be fair, he's honestly not sure at this point.

"That gonna put me under?" he asks warily. "Cause, uh. It'd be hard enough to walk as it is."

Oh so comforting. But good enough. Well, under normal circumstances, not even slightly good enough, but these are not normal circumstances. If they were, he wouldn't be doing this.

"Just for a little while," he answers. "Or it might just make you a little bit loopy, I don't know your tolerance. But trust me, I'm not letting you walk anywhere right now anyway."

He sets aside the kit, then takes Daniel's arm and folds up his sleeve. This all feels highly unsanitary, given they are both covered in salt water and dirt and blood, but as long he cleans the skin and the needle... And also, that piece of rebar wasn't exactly sanitary, so.

"Don't worry, I'll look after you," he promises.

He searches his eyes for a minute, privately debating the issue - never mind that it wouldn't matter one way or the other, as they hardly have any other options - and then, finally, nods.

"I believe you."

His eyes snap shut again and he does his best not to tense in nervous anticipation, awaiting the inevitable hard pinch of a needle.

"Documentary after though, okay?"

"Nothing but sand dunes," he agrees, immediately setting about making preparations. Tying the tourniquet, cleaning the skin, doing everything and finally filling the needle, talking all the while to try to relax Daniel. "You should visit Uganda sometime, it's nice there. Very dry. Some places you can go miles and miles without water. We went on a safari there too, me and Kelly. Saw lions and everything. Hippos and giant elephants and shit... Somewhere there's a picture of me holding a chimpanzee."

He has to take a breath to steady his hands, make sure he doesn't shake. Which is a little tricky at the moment, but he keeps steady enough not to miss as he pushes the needle in and slowly injects the morphine, loosening the tourniquet.

"We can make it a thing," he answers. He knows what Seth's doing and he's grateful for it - talking is the only way he knows how to deal with things he can't handle and Seth must have figured that out. "Swap vacation stories, you know. Uganda, hm. Never been. Been t'Egypt, though. Archeological digs. And things."

He feels the needle go in and grimaces. One of his hands tightens into a fist and he - forces himself to relax. And keeps talking, onward and upward, regardless of how much sense any of this might make.

"Archaeology, you know. Not a stationary endeavor." Either he's gotten worse in the last few minutes or the stuff's just entered his system. He's going to be optimistic and assume the latter, though logically he knows it takes more than a few minutes. God. God. Keep talking. "Dig up things, you know. Couple years ago I was in Honduras. Well, er, it was a couple years ago. Awhile ago. That one wasn't as fun. Less cultural exploration, more getting shot."

Daniel's eyes are still closed, jaw set.

"You know how long this'll take to work?" he asks, finally, the anxiety thin in his voice.

Seth's glad Daniel takes up the mantle of rambling to relax, because Seth's not all that good at it. And he's already folding up his own sleeve.

"Should have started," he answers, looking down at Daniel, worried that it's not working right. "I gave it intravenously, so, it only takes a few minutes. As opposed to, yanno, through muscles, which takes forever..." He should know. Though quite often he does do it through muscle, just so it doesn't hit him so intensely and quickly. He might be dependent, but he'd like to think he's not addicted. There is a difference.

"...How do you feel?" he asks a few moments later, impatient for it to work.

"I -" he begins, and then, oof. Ah. Woah. Ah. Okay.

"Different." He blinks. "Warm. Oh. Oh, wow. Yeah, warm. Gah."

He shakes his head again, trying to - to - to -

- process.

Process something.

Something important.

Damn, this stuff works fast.

Plus side - it's not cold anymore, which feels fantastic.

"Pretty good, actually." Really good. Not even the part of him that was recently speared through with rebar hurts. "Itchy."

"Don't scratch," he warns, relaxing a little now Daniel's no longer in pain. That doesn't actually mean he's safe, though, so Seth's not relaxing completely. There is of course a chance Daniel isn't referring to his wound or his arm when he says he's itchy, but just to be on the safe side.

He ties the tourniquet around his own arm, cleans off a spot, tossing away the used tissues. Then he inserts the needle into his own arm, and it's funny how it's actually easier to do on himself. Practice, he supposes. Only this time instead of injecting into his arm, he's slowly drawing blood out of it, clenching and unclenching his fist.

There is a good chance this is a terrible idea, in fact there are several voices in the back of his mind naming all the risks with this plan, but at the moment, logic and reason and forethought is not his strongest point.

"Alright, I'm gonna inject you again," he says, pulling the blood-filled needle out of his arm. Hardly the most effective or safe way to do a blood transfusion, probably not even a completely sane idea, but needs must. At the moment Daniel still desperately needs blood, and there is just nowhere else to get it. The only bodily fluids Seth has lost so far has been stomach acid, so he can spare to give some.

"What're you -" Oh, hell, it's really hard to concentrate. He's in absolutely no pain. It's

great.

"No, nonononono don't do that," he mumbles, or means to. What comes out is much less articulate and could probably be misconstrued as gibberish. "M'fine."

He is better than fine. He is great.

He is

This is

"Ah, um. Can't feel m'lip."

At the moment, Daniel's objections are really not worth much, since, well, a little incapable of making informed decisions. Or even focus. Seth may have over-estimated a little bit just how much morphine Daniel would need given his size, but at least he isn't knocked out. Still conscious.

"Yeah, that happens," he answers. "Don't worry, your lip's still there."

He's just going to... keep giving Daniel his blood a couple times. Until he feels like it would be a bad idea to continue, or perhaps when he can't properly hold his hands still. Then they can just both be a bit anemic, rather than Daniel alone suffering from severe blood loss.

"Mm-mm." Daniel shakes his head emphatically then...stops shaking his head emphatically.

"Feels like 'm floating," he complains.

It would be really, really easy to just drift off and...stop thinking for a bit. Fortunately, Daniel's not the type to stop doing that. Pretty much ever.

"'S not safe," he says, ridiculously admonishing in tone.

"Well, you've lost an unsafe amount of blood, so," he answers. "We're the same blood type, it should be fine." So he's just going to keep doing this a few times. At least Daniel's not longer worrying about the needle.

It's actually calming Seth a bit, having Daniel so relaxed. Sure, if something happens, he'll be pretty much useless for the next half hour. But this place is pretty quiet. Hopefully they can just stay here a little, try to regain their strength for a while. Let Daniel heal up enough that he can walk without risking injuring himself further. They'll be fine.

"'S not, um. What's the word. Can't think've it." Speaking clearly is becoming more of an issue. Daniel redoubles his efforts, only to hesitate, having forgotten completely what he was planning to talk about.

"'S your blood," he finishes at last, feeling tired and so very, very heavy. He doesn't think he could move even if he wanted to. "Y'need it."

"Not as much as you do at the moment. Don't worry, I've got plenty, I haven't gotten myself impaled or anything ridiculous like that," he answers. His injuries have all been battering, not so much puncture. Well, besides a few scratches, but nothing that's really lost him any blood. Just pain. "Trade ya for that dinner. How's that sound?"

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tw: needles/injections

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tw: more needles and blood and stuff

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