END GAME: THE COUNTDOWN STARTS

[sailmods]

[the prisoners wake up on cold, hard floors.

the lights are bright, glaring, a sterile cell with sterile bars facing a sterile hall. the prisoners with you, across from you, and no one else. no rocking of a ship in waves, nothing. just the prisoner and their prison.

time passes, one assumes. the rhythmic click of Friday’s heels down the hall. it’s almost like the ticking of a clock.]

Comments

[not_the_last]

She can almost feel the line go taut between them. Something they can both hold on to.

"Right," she breathes. "Yes. Let's get everyone together." Dedue, and Helena, and ... and as little as she likes the idea, the reminder that not everyone can see what's happening makes her realize that someone needs to see to Arthur Lester.

(And she hasn't yet given up on the idea that Erin might still be here, somewhere.)

[angrycrabnoises]

Nearby, Karkat scrambles out of his cell. He is tempted to immediately go looking for his friends, but he has spent long enough across from Phil while he picked at himself that Karkat can’t just leave him alone.

He gets close to where Phil and Cass are, but the blood smell gets worse, causing his nose to wrinkle. He covers his nose and mouth with a hand. “FUCK, FUCK. IS HE OKAY?” Karkat asks in a muffled tone.

[not_the_last]

Cassandra makes herself breathe.

"He's had a very bad time." Steady, sure. "He'll be all right. -- Karkat, isn't it?"

(Not Eridan, who's gone and never did make any gesture in the direction of reconciling, and not the girl who wears green and likes cats.)

[goodweather]

(“… That’s Karkat,” he nods. This kid is at least immediately recognizable to him; he’s heard the tone of his voice clear across two locked doors and a hallway for months now.

… He’s covering his mouth, which is odd, because Cassandra isn’t. And because even now, it’s second nature to Phil: “Hey, you okay? You look nauseous.”)

[angrycrabnoises]

“I CANNOT FUCKING BELIEVE YOU’RE ASKING ME THAT!” Karkat flails an arm, then turns to Cassandra.

“DO WE HAVE ANY KIND OF MEDIC AROUND? I KNOW EVERYONE’S POWERS ARE SHOT SO HEALING’S PROBABLY GONE.”

[not_the_last]

"No magical healing and none of our possessions," she says, "so we need to find one or the other. Or both. A medic without medicines won't be able to do much."

A pause, and she makes herself take a long closer look at Phil, to see if he's still actively bleeding from anywhere. If bandaging is called for, it's about the only thing they have the capacity to provide here.

[goodweather]

(Phil pulls away from Karkat as he yells and flails at him, frowning.

The big thing is a head wound, so it’s a lot of blood to discern. Most of it is dry, but there’s still a wet line or two trailing down his face; if Cassandra’s much good at parsing the appearance of wounds, it seems like it’s drying in two stages, or like it stopped before it opened again. There’s some blood on his hands too, but that’s all dried with no wounds, and there’s only a few old flecks between his feathers.)