Sergeant Rick Doyle || 28 Weeks Later (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fuckthemission) wrote2012-06-11 01:03 pm
fuckthemission) wrote2012-06-11 01:03 pm
04 | voice/written/action | Kidnap shifts are a bitch, and I hate 'em.
[June 9th (Nighttime)]
[Doyle returns from the mission and hopes distantly that the shift placed on him would be gone. It is not, and he's got an insignificant wound that probably needs a few stitches and something to disinfectant. He basically makes a beeline for his place, locks himself up (and may run into people along the way, despite his attempts to be sneaky). He'll just have to wait for it to wear off.
Yeah.]
[Voice]
Can anyone do me a favor? Probably a doctor at the clinic--I need, uh. A kit for stitching up minor injuries, things like that? Something to disinfect a wound? I'm not really in a position to go down to the clinic... If we can arrange somewhere to pick it up, I'd really owe ya.
[If you're in Community Housing 7, you might feel a phantom heat passing through the Floor 3 hallway. Also if you're Doyle's neighbors or you're above or below his room, sorry about the weird heat that seems to bounce around your place. :|]
[June 10th]
[It's getting worse. He's feeling a lot more restricted, a lot more like he's drowning in peak summer heat. Started sweating more; he takes nightly walks like he does sometimes, though more-so to escape how his room smothers him. Eventually, though, he starts to realize that he can't go to the grocery store, or the restaurant, or the item shop. Or the middle of the plaza. Frankly, he realizes he's just shoving heat in people's faces wherever he's at.
There's some joke to be made about making people want to take their clothes off, but he's too tired to amuse it. He temporarily stays in an empty house further back from any people, just until this wears off. Needs food, though. Going to the grocery shop isn't going to work out. At all.
A while later, an anonymous person pens in this handwriting:]
[Written / Anonymous]
I'm stuck in a predicament, and I kinda' need food. If anyone can drop some off at the house I'm staying in, I'd really appreciate it--and I'd owe you one. Just on the doorstep, and I can do the rest.
[If people do decide to help out, he'd appreciate it. He even pens the house number. Just don't be alarmed if you help, or even if you just walk by, that something unceremoniously warm is seeping through the walls of the house. He's got the air on, the fans on, and he's still not feeling too relaxed.
He also goes out and sits at the lake. By the time he's there for an hour, two, he sits in the water and feels some semblance of relief for once.]
[June 11th]
[Fucking hell. Fuck.
He's given up on shirts. He's drinking a lot of water, too. Been sitting in the shower at the unspecified house until he prunes up. It offers a little relief. Not a whole lot. When it starts to rain he goes outside, goes back to the lake, sits in the water, in the rain; he hasn't gotten sick from it yet, so he's not about to stop.
When the rain clears up, he drags himself onto the shore and lays there. He feels too hot. He's going to burn up--they're going to burn him all up, aren't they, those assholes?
Too hot... Ugh... Too hot.
It's raining and overcast and he's laying here suffocating in heat.
What were the odds.]
((ooc: basically anyone within a 10-foot radius will feel like they're in a really hot desert that will progressively get worse the closer they go; the heat is stifling and hard to be around. Another 10 feet after that, there's a mild heat that'll probably be more recognizable on the rainy days. Touching him'll make you feel like you're being burned. Also to note, it only effects living things. So no actual hot objects. :|b
It'll go away before anything gets too intense for him, but he's a little freaked out and anxious and all that.))
[Doyle returns from the mission and hopes distantly that the shift placed on him would be gone. It is not, and he's got an insignificant wound that probably needs a few stitches and something to disinfectant. He basically makes a beeline for his place, locks himself up (and may run into people along the way, despite his attempts to be sneaky). He'll just have to wait for it to wear off.
Yeah.]
[Voice]
Can anyone do me a favor? Probably a doctor at the clinic--I need, uh. A kit for stitching up minor injuries, things like that? Something to disinfect a wound? I'm not really in a position to go down to the clinic... If we can arrange somewhere to pick it up, I'd really owe ya.
[If you're in Community Housing 7, you might feel a phantom heat passing through the Floor 3 hallway. Also if you're Doyle's neighbors or you're above or below his room, sorry about the weird heat that seems to bounce around your place. :|]
[June 10th]
[It's getting worse. He's feeling a lot more restricted, a lot more like he's drowning in peak summer heat. Started sweating more; he takes nightly walks like he does sometimes, though more-so to escape how his room smothers him. Eventually, though, he starts to realize that he can't go to the grocery store, or the restaurant, or the item shop. Or the middle of the plaza. Frankly, he realizes he's just shoving heat in people's faces wherever he's at.
There's some joke to be made about making people want to take their clothes off, but he's too tired to amuse it. He temporarily stays in an empty house further back from any people, just until this wears off. Needs food, though. Going to the grocery shop isn't going to work out. At all.
A while later, an anonymous person pens in this handwriting:]
[Written / Anonymous]
I'm stuck in a predicament, and I kinda' need food. If anyone can drop some off at the house I'm staying in, I'd really appreciate it--and I'd owe you one. Just on the doorstep, and I can do the rest.
[If people do decide to help out, he'd appreciate it. He even pens the house number. Just don't be alarmed if you help, or even if you just walk by, that something unceremoniously warm is seeping through the walls of the house. He's got the air on, the fans on, and he's still not feeling too relaxed.
He also goes out and sits at the lake. By the time he's there for an hour, two, he sits in the water and feels some semblance of relief for once.]
[June 11th]
[Fucking hell. Fuck.
He's given up on shirts. He's drinking a lot of water, too. Been sitting in the shower at the unspecified house until he prunes up. It offers a little relief. Not a whole lot. When it starts to rain he goes outside, goes back to the lake, sits in the water, in the rain; he hasn't gotten sick from it yet, so he's not about to stop.
When the rain clears up, he drags himself onto the shore and lays there. He feels too hot. He's going to burn up--they're going to burn him all up, aren't they, those assholes?
Too hot... Ugh... Too hot.
It's raining and overcast and he's laying here suffocating in heat.
What were the odds.]
((ooc: basically anyone within a 10-foot radius will feel like they're in a really hot desert that will progressively get worse the closer they go; the heat is stifling and hard to be around. Another 10 feet after that, there's a mild heat that'll probably be more recognizable on the rainy days. Touching him'll make you feel like you're being burned. Also to note, it only effects living things. So no actual hot objects. :|b
It'll go away before anything gets too intense for him, but he's a little freaked out and anxious and all that.))
[action] June 11th
[A breath. He feels overwhelmed again, like he's going to just--burst into flame at any minute. Clenching and unclenching his hands, he closes his eyes, tries to breathe.
Don't panic.
It's not going to happen.
It's gonna be alright.
It'd better be fuckin' alright.]
Just... give me a minute.
[Just a minute.
Just a sec.]
[action] June 11th
[Another step. She swallows back a muted curse. Standing next to a furnace in the middle of the summer hadn't been this stifling, this unpleasant. She makes a belated not in the back of her mind to remember if she wrote her will out to allow herself to be cremated. Not that she could change it, but she feels like she's got a solid idea of the sensation. And doesn't care for it.
She takes a slow, deep breath- almost chokes on it. Grits her teeth and inches closer. If it's gradual, she can bear it. Almost. Another inch. It feels like a mile. The nape of her neck is sodden, now, hair slicked against her skin.]
Do you need help standing?
[action] June 11th
Fuck.
I can stand, I just... Wait.
[Breathe in. 1, 2, 3. Breathe out. He slowly rolls back over onto his elbows. Breathe in. It's alright. Don't freak out; even if it's starting to feel overwhelming again, don't freak out. You can't crack in front of the doctor, because she'll never fuckin' let it go.]
Just stand back, alright?
[action] June 11th
[The heat was chronic, though. More persistent and lingering than any of her bruises. Stifling and thick in the air, heavy on her skin, radiating misery along with it's source. Much. Much different than multiple spots of bone deep pain. But not quite as bad.
She thinks. Her memory is fuzzy on some of the details. But as far as he needs to know? This isn't the worst she's walked through. Not by a long shot.
Even so. She doesn't take another step forward. She doesn't step back either. It's uncomfortable, it's frustrating, and she knows if she just walks backward ten, fifteen steps? She'll be fine. But that's cowardice.
And she'll never allow herself that while Rick's miserable. It's stupid, but she won't.]
I am fine where I am.
[action] June 11th
[He's at least on his knees now, slowly dragging himself up, wet from head to toe in the rain--he breathes heavy, grabbing his hairline, smoothing back the stray bits clinging to his forehead.
Slow and steady.]
If this kills me, I swear to god...
They can't shoot me in the face or something like a decent captor?
[action] June 11th
[Because it was honestly getting old at this point. Especially since she's the one that brings it up more often than not. Adele takes a half step back as he stands, heat rising along with him. Thick in the air, slamming into her, and she can't. Breathe.
Easily. At least.]
If you are absolutely certain it is beyond your ability to bear it...I would. But only if you are beyond saving, and there is no other option.
[action] June 11th
[He folds his arms, looking down. He feels another nauseating dizzy spell, but he keeps it at bay, looks up at her with hesitancy. Rule 2, he knows, but it's not easy. He wants to ignore why he's in the club. Forget why it bothers him so much. He's also not sure if he can say it's... well, is it a phobia now? He hates to think it is. He never had a problem with it before London. He'd played with fire as a teenager like an idiot, and he's been around campfires.
It makes no sense, why he can't just. Look at it like he did before.
But it's just been getting harder to manage.
He sighs, lets his hands fall to his side.]
I'm-
[Hesitates, stutters on the thought and turns, hands on his hips. He's so thirsty--he's gonna dry out. His eyes try to dry out. His throat's dry.]
I have a... fear of fire. [Grits his teeth, takes a moment to shake his head.] Or something. Hell, I don't know.
[action] June 11th
[She'd known the Malnosso to be cruel for a long while now. Had no doubt of their depravity, their subtle torments. While she'd been spared them for the most part- the detail, the penalties, the shifts and experiments. Everything they lay down on the villagers, every last poke and prod at their pride, livelihood, and wellbeing.
But this.
This was more than she'd expected from them.]
Bastards.
[It's low. Cold. Violent in a way she hasn't felt in quite some time. The anger on his behalf is quelled, accepted, locked aside for the time being. He doesn't need that now.
Rick's baring something vital, here. Showing a bit of his underbelly. Tense and sweltering, she takes another half step forward. Hisses under her breath. Meets his eyes and offers the same.]
...I'm an acrophobe. Heights. Falling. The helicopter ride back was...hell. I cannot imagine being exposed to it every hour of every day as you have been Rick.
I'm sorry.
[action] June 11th
You don't have to apologize; what'd you do, right?
[Not that it's spoken in a way that disregards that apology. He just knows damn well where the fault and blame lies.]
It only started a few months ago. The... fire phobia problem.
[a pause, and he works his jaw]
I don't know what the fuck to do with it. Now I'm just trying not to flip out and knock myself out so I won't have to be awake for this shit.
[action] June 11th
oh.
Adele swallows and looks away for a moment, trying to wrap her mind around the implications of that. Her thoughts wheel and dive like so many broken winged birds. It's not something she wants to think about.]
If the ice bath does not help, I can sedate you in a private room until this passes.
[action] June 11th
Ice bath, though. I like the sound of that.
[action] June 11th
[She takes a step back as he steps forward, retreating from the sudden wave of heat. This is. Terrible.]
[action] June 11th
He smiles faintly.]
I meant--getting close enough to do all that.
Though, maybe I could administer it myself. I did my own stitches, after all.
[action] June 11th
[Doubtful. The heat would be distracting, she wouldn't be able to focus on finding the right vein...]
If not I could walk you through it easily enough. And I will want to take a look at the aforementioned stitches Rick. Just to be sure you didn't botch them, of course.
[It's awkward, standing off to the side as they walk, speaking from a distance. After awhile the heat becomes more uncomfortable than she can stand. The umbrella's closed and set off to the side. She's soaked within seconds, and still too. Damn. Hot.]
[action] June 11th
Give me a little credit, doc. I'm not a five-year-old doing a knitting project.
[He sucks in a breath and the world tips up and down, making him stagger for a moment. He humorously wonders, despite this, how she always catches him at the times he's hardly able to walk.]
Considering some of the types of people I attract, I might have to start learning self-stitching anyway. Before the doctors in town cramp their hands.
[action] June 11th
When this passes-[High. Breathy. Roughened with heat and shallow breath. She swears and steps back once he steadies himself.] I will be more than happy to walk you through it.
[action] June 11th
[He tries to sound authoritative, but it just ends up cracked as he puts his hand up, head bowed for a moment. The shame of his panic passes over his features before he tries to walk again. He talks through it, hands clenched into shaking fists. It's hot all around him. He feels it. Sooner or later it's going to burn, and then his skin will melt away, and his eyes'll--
He shakes his his head.]
I can do this.
I'll do this, alright? Just... walk me through the medical shit if I need it. I can do this.
[action] June 11th
This was everything she hates.
A situation where her skills are useless. Where this is something she cannot fix.]
I will be more than able to explain the nuances of sedating yourself, even if it has been awhile since I've had to do it.
[action] June 11th
Fucking hell--
[action] June 11th
He staggers, he wheezes, and Adele's at his side without thinking, grabbing his shoulder to help him upright before she staggers back with a low hissed string of obscenities.
It'd been like sticking her hands into a fire, she can't keep from staring at them, whole, unharmed, but throbbing with that phantom pain. There should be blisters. Broken skin. Blackened flesh.
But they're whole and unmarked.]
That...stings. Like a bitch.
[action] June 11th
[He holds his throat, breathing deep, needy breaths. His vision is prickling with black dots. He swallows hard as he's done far too many times, the carpet underhand getting dark with perspiration.]
Ice... The bath...
[action] June 11th
[A moment more for the sensation to recede. No blisters. No burns. Just the odd flare and hypersensitivity that comes with stung flesh. He can't stand on his own much longer.]
...This. This is going to-. Shit.
[She weaves past him, panting through grit teeth to finish running the cold water in the bath. Doubles back for him and approaches. Wrapped in a coat too big for her and gloves she hopes is his.
It won't help. Much. But it is better than nothing.]
Can you stand?
[action] June 11th
Right--okay.
[Raspy and weary, he blinks hard like he's trying to un-view something.]
[action] June 11th
This is going to hurt.
Don't. Just. Don't.]
...merde.
[Low, curt, under her breath and she bites down on anything else she might say and steps in fast. Loops an arm around his ribs and swears a stream of curse words the moment she's within a foot of him. Grits her teeth and bears it, hauling him up once he's stable and starts leading him to the bathroom. It's close. It burns. Christ she's on fire and it hurts and she can't think and all she has to do is drop him and get away but it burns-
She's crying while they walk. Stagger. Limp. She makes it all of three feet with him, to the closest door frame before she has to let him grab hold of that and scramble away. Double over in the hall and sob quietly to herself as the burning eases.]
[action] June 11th
No more--of that shit. You don't need that shit, doc.
[Because it's not working. He drags himself along the wall--almost there, one, two, three steps, a little more. He remembers taking steps back then. He took a couple of steps and then fell to his knees then. He couldn't see the car drive for long. He couldn't hear it driving away.
When he gets to the bath he doesn't bother taking his clothes off. He collapses into the water and lays there and feels a short burst of relief in his bones. A gasp of air and he lets himself sink down all the way, submerged, eyes squeezed shut.
It'd be better to just drown, if it wouldn't go away like people said it probably would. Probably.
After a long while he resurfaces, laying his head back, gasping for air.]
[action] June 11th
[action] June 11th
[action] June 11th
[action] June 11th
[action] June 11th
[action] June 11th
[action] June 11th
[action] June 11th
[action] June 11th
[action] June 11th
[action] June 11th