[ 4 ] [ Audio/Commentlog ] backdated to the 18th

[sonofthestorm]

[The feed kicks in to a harsh mutter and a clatter. That the communicator is broadcasting is purely accidental, and not something Seth is happy about.]

Yeah good on ya-- piece of shit. Tell the lot of them what I don't fucking feel like--

[There's a sharp hiss, the sound of material tearing and then, the feed cuts out.]

(ooc: Seth is currently doing

Comments

[salamandher]

... The hell did you do?

[sonofthestorm]

You.

[Forgive the grouching. He's a little annoyed. Seth liked those fingers dammit.]

Don't touch the void.

[salamandher]

Oh, gee? Really? Color me enlightened.

[You are such a boy, Seth. Poking your fingers at proverbial bears.]

What'd it do, anyway?

[sonofthestorm]

[He grunts in reply.]

Not in the mood, Makenna.

[Pause. Seth hisses again.]

Half my fucking hand-- Gone.

[atrophysoul]

[Blood. There was blood on the floor. She could see it. She could smell it.

There was a slice missing from her right arm, a nice souvenir for having been too close to a rip in reality in the middle of the casino. Already it's dried and discoloured with necrosis. She'll need to feed to heal it.

And there's blood on the floor.

It's almost too easy. Some poor injured soul is waiting, weakened for her.

Of course, "poor" and "weakened" are not words she associates with the Australian. So she's surprised to look up and see him at the end of her blood trail.]

... Do you need some help?

[sonofthestorm]

[He feels sick, dizzy. Were he on Earth, Green Mother would be aiding him, guiding him in her own way to somewhere or something that could help him. Here, he has no one, nothing.

Seth turns to the voice and presses the rag a little tighter to his hand.]

You. [Breathe.] It's fine. I just need...

[He trails off, barely able to think straight. It's been a while since his hand got eaten.]

[atrophysoul]

[She sidles closer. The blood-stained rag could not be more obvious. And yet curiously enough she finds herself in two minds over whether to help him or hinder him.

She needs to eat, and he's already dying. It might take a while, but she can see it in the colour of his face. Still...]

Give that to me.

[She holds out a hand for the blood-soaked rag.]

[sonofthestorm]

Aoife, don't.

[He shakes his head, voice a low rumble and takes a step back.]

Bloody hand is gone. Mostly.

[Another step. Seth's determined to keep walking.]

Bleeding too much.