[Abigail knows there's no way that much blood loss can be healthy. And she's no healer, not like some of the changelings in her Freehold. So, she's at a loss.
Except, she has to stay calm. Stay strong for him. Panicking would only make things harder for Stiles, and she doesn't want that. She wants...she wants him to be okay.]
It has! I think LJ must have eaten my tag >.>alotofadderallOctober 4 2012, 02:12:33 UTC
Hrngh? [Stiles manages, barely, turning his head to look at Abigail with dull eyes. He can feel the sticky pool of blood forming underneath him and he knows that is definitely a Bad Sign.]
[She kneels beside him, trying to form a reassuring smile, but her face won't cooperate. She can see it in his eyes, just how grim this situation truly is.]
I'm here. You're not alone.
[That may be all she can offer, her hand on his shoulder, eyes locked with his.]
Stiles? [Sam's shout is just this side of frantic. He'd been separated from the pack and as much as he loved him, the teen still wasn't the most graceful individual ever. Stiles didn't remember him, only vague recollections and feelings, but what they'd been to each other was gone. Snuffed out by a sharp blow to his temple.
[So Sam tried to cope. His anchor was a friend, now. An anchor who called him the "sad wolf" as much as he called Derek the "sour wolf" of the pack. Stiles was trying, he really was, and Sam at least offered a token smile for it.
[But his heart rate is hammering as he nears the ravine. Nononono. He stops short, stumbling down the hill, making a hard, choked sound at the long, elegant limbs mangled and broken. His voice is a whisper.]
Sam... [Stiles groans, twitching painfully. He's not sure where all of his limbs are, exactly, but some of them are definitely in the wrong place and all of them hurt.]
[He slip-skids down the hill, catching himself on a sapling before he nearly tumbles right on top of him. Sam drops to his knees, eyes flicking over his wounds. Arm break, leg break, an ankle twisted at an unnatural angle. And.. a large branch buried high in his chest.
[Sam makes a choked sound, almost a sob as he strokes his face, reaching for his hand. No. No. He can't. He can't lose him a second time like this.] Hey. I'm here. Just.. relax. I'm gonna get some help okay? We're gonna get you over to Doc Deacon and you're going to be fine.
Your head? [Sam reaches, fingers gently probing along his scalp for any sign of injury. He won't hope. Can't dare to hope that the flood of emotion behind his eyes is recognition.] Shh. You're going to be okay.
[Then he catches his hand and Sam has to bite his lip, tears in his eyes. He only gets him back as he's dying. Tears slip down his cheeks and he strokes his face with a shaking hand.] Hey.
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Except, she has to stay calm. Stay strong for him. Panicking would only make things harder for Stiles, and she doesn't want that. She wants...she wants him to be okay.]
Stiles? Stiles, can you hear me?
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I'm here. You're not alone.
[That may be all she can offer, her hand on his shoulder, eyes locked with his.]
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[She can't keep all her thoughts off her face, no matter how much she tries.]
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[They both know he won't be. He's dying...but at least he's not alone. And Abigail was definitely on the list of people he'd want by his side.]
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Stiles, I want you to know that you're amazing. Alright? And I'm proud to know you, to consider you a friend.
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[So Sam tried to cope. His anchor was a friend, now. An anchor who called him the "sad wolf" as much as he called Derek the "sour wolf" of the pack. Stiles was trying, he really was, and Sam at least offered a token smile for it.
[But his heart rate is hammering as he nears the ravine. Nononono. He stops short, stumbling down the hill, making a hard, choked sound at the long, elegant limbs mangled and broken. His voice is a whisper.]
Stiles?
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[Sam makes a choked sound, almost a sob as he strokes his face, reaching for his hand. No. No. He can't. He can't lose him a second time like this.] Hey. I'm here. Just.. relax. I'm gonna get some help okay? We're gonna get you over to Doc Deacon and you're going to be fine.
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[He remembers. He remembers everything, and Stiles squeezes Sam's hand weakly, lips parted in a dazed expression.]
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[Then he catches his hand and Sam has to bite his lip, tears in his eyes. He only gets him back as he's dying. Tears slip down his cheeks and he strokes his face with a shaking hand.] Hey.
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