i'm running low on serotonin ( july catchall, ota )

[skaikru]

Who: clarke griffin + you
When: all of july
Where: throughout the ship
Summary: fitness, reading trashy fiction, unfortunate lies & even less fortunate truths, murderboarding, angst, sigil shenanigans, and more!
Warnings: blood probably. perpetual cw: the 100. will update as necessary



i. early to mid-month out and abouts ( all over )

( this is to be the month of self growth. sure, clarke still inevitably hunches her shoulders to brace against whatever new curve ball may be thrown their way. she half expects the rain to turn from water to acid at a moments notice, or this to be the lead up to another monstrous storm sent their way from a god less reasonable than pirate jenny. she is constantly, perpetually waiting for all the food onboard the ship to disappear, or else the faucets to stop working. if the air circulating throughout the ship suddenly turned noxious and they all fell to their knees choking on their own blood, she wouldn't really be surprised. and if someone snapped and went on a killing rampage, well. that'd actually make the most sense, being most in line with the captain's insistence he needn't do much to worsen their circumstances — they'd inevitably do it for him.

but she can't just sit still in the bowels of her cabin, occasionally chat with ruby, and just wait. so, begrudgingly — because this feels a lot like accepting that this is her life now — she sets about a routine. all for the benefit of the fight, but still seemingly banal. from july 1st - 14th, you can find clarke a number of places.

up on the sports deck, running laps to the point of exhaustion in the pouring rain. also in any given stairwell, bolting between levels of the ship (and potentially eating shit on a descent, gravity and momentum don't mix well). otherwise, in the gym absolutely failing at pull-ups, but stubbornly reaching up to grasp the bar again and again and again until her hands blister. likewise, if you're anywhere around publicly practicing martial arts, hand to hand, or close quarter weapon combat, congrats, you've got an audience now. clarke will stop virtually whatever she's doing to very obviously stare for a few moments — curiosity mixing with some sort of envy, but then folding back in on itself to become dread. that was a skill she'd never learned, always relying on environmental factors to get a leg up, or guns. and the more time they spend on this ship, the more people who show up, the more trials they're put through, the more it feels like at some point she will have to learn.

at the same time but on the opposite end of fitness, catch her reading a bunch. self prescribed homework after they've caught on to the captain's unoriginality and reliance on old world books and movies. she'll be spending a lot of time in the library, tucked away at a table with a whole stack of random fiction genres in front of her, one book splayed open with her right hand in the crease, and a stack of paper and pens at her left hand to take notes on. most notably she's probably reading some science fiction, high fantasy, or a classic like an off-brand version of the box car children.

the library surroundings get a bit suffocating after a while, so she may curl up on a couch in the lobby to read the rough equivalent of flowers for algernon, or else laying on her belly across the stage of bellona theatre to deadeye at the disjointedly written, all too real apocalyptic horror of the road. and of course, no meal is complete without a cup of orange juice and flowers in the attic.

there really aren't words to describe how much she hates this portion of the research.

more towards the middle of the month, there may be an occasional sketch break — phone open to sneakily taken pictures, and painfully recreating the sigils she'd broken into ebalon's room to rifle through. this is more a secretive indulgence, clarke most likely posts up in tauva or else some back corner of playback thinking no one she knows incredibly well will come looking for her there. if stumbled upon, she's quick to slip the notebook closed. no poker for her, she's underaged, but this poker face though... at least n=in this venture she's probably so invested she's forgotten to eat or drink for two or more hours, and can lie of her own accord. )

ii. early to mid-month curse shenanigans ( wherever you want )

( there's a distinct lack of bloodshed and no sign up sheet for another expedition, but it's still apparent from pretty early on that something's wrong. it literally took one conversation where she'd let wanheda slip through her teeth to someone she'd really rather not have mentioned it to yet for clarke to try to guard her tongue. not that it does any good, she's not figured out the connection to water and, yanno, humans sorta need water to survive. sometimes in the depths of study, she might have forgotten to eat or drink for a while and thus speaks unimpeded, but working out in the rain is still a daily occurrence. freely accessible clean ("clean") drinking water along with the varieties of tea, soda, and juice the ship has to offer has been one of the few things clarke's enjoyed taking advantage of after coming from a resource bleak world. and showers — oh god, she's come to love showers — are novel and thoroughly enjoyed. so let's open up the lines to chaos and some unwilling truths or ridiculous lies falling from her lips before she ever realizes.

some ice breaker truth options:

a. you may ask "hey clarke, how you doing?" and be answered in turn with blunt honesty —) Awfully, actually.

( b. or cheerily greet her with "what's new?" ) I really miss my mom.

( or c. "hey, you doing okay?" ) No, I could really use a hug.

( and for d., lies — specify and hit up this prompt to get a specifically tailored fabrication. )

iii. mid- to late month ( mostly cabin 108, maybe skulking about )

( and as brute honesty usually does, it gets to be too much. overwhelming, leaving her feeling too vulnerable in the face of too many unknowns. going into each new conversation feels like rolling the dice as to if she's going to ruin a relationship without a filter to gentle her thoughts, or else a game of poker where each hand lost could lead to someone she'd really rather not knowing her weaknesses.

...the lies don't bother her nearly as much. they're just inconvenient, and occasionally embarrassing.

so for a few days between july 15th and 19th, she sequesters herself in her own room. maybe occasionally harassed by someone who cares to come check on her, usually trying to communicate in person with hand gestures and silent shakes of the head, but that tactic is eventually ruined with word vomit no matter how hard she tries. so there's a lot of social hedging here, a little clarke griffin leave of absence except for when she emerges to gather food, or occasionally run the circumference of the sports deck around four am.

but solitude isn't necessarily a bad thing. it's here that she makes the connection between water exposure and the curse enacting. can parse out that it's a coin flip if one was forced to give whole truths or compelled to lie regardless of how small the lie would be. and it's here that she wonders if it could be... weaponized. )

iv. late to end of month ( all over again )

( and thus the game becomes to avoid water while also confirming her hypothesis and testing the boundaries of this curse.

so, end of the month you'll find a rather rumpled, un-showered clarke griffin prowling around the ship again, spray bottle in hand and ready to piss a few people off in the name of answers. she had just been saying how convenient it would be to know everything about a person, the same way friday gets snippets and the captain seemingly knows all when he cares to remember. and, well. here's the chance, right? people are about to get misted in the face with tap water for the greater good.

it's a simple set up. anyone, regardless of if she knows them already or not, will get approached and asked — ) Hey, what's your name?

( and after receiving an answer, surprise squirt squirt to the face. congradulations, you're wet now and again being asked — ) What's your name? ( — so she can gauge if you're telling the truth or a lie. (this isn't an infallible plan; someone could lie the first time, get hit with the truth portion and give a completely different answer the second time, and she'd probably write them off as being cursed to lie. but the kinks can't be worked out in one day. it's still at least a start.)

liars are dismissed, usually without apology.

but those detected to be truthers... again, there's choose your own adventure style options.

a. ) What are you?

( b. ) What have you lived through?

( c. ) How many people have you killed?

( d. ) If you were told to kill people here, would you do it?

( near the end of the month, and i mean like the VERY end of the month, july 29th and onward, she'll figure out showering is still an option provided you wait an hour after. usually does it right before going to sleep so like, if you throw pudding at her, she's rocking that shit in her hair until the next day but is at least mostly clean.

but it's just more of the above, only this time she looks a little less a mess. she has new questions, though. )

( e. ) What's more important to you, immortality or morality?

( f. ) Have you ever been to war?

( g. ) What's the worst thing you've ever done?

v. i wildcard

( y'all know me, easy peasy lemon squeezy. hit me with something not listed here, tweak my starters a bit to suit your needs, or hit me up at inb4circlejerk to plot or ask questions. combine i & ii prompts at will. this post will also be used throughout the month to start closed threads, but all these prompts above are ota. )

Comments

july 11th-ish? ( closed )

[skaikru]

( eventually, a little while after murdering a man and peeling away from gal friday on their express trip to the morgue, the elevator at the end of the cabin hallway dings open. the button panel is a smear of drying tacky red and fresh, freely oozing black blood. and that snail trail of blood continues to track along the wallpaper as clarke limps out of the elevator and braces her left hand on the wall to make sure she stays upright. adrenaline has faded, every tiny movement feels like that steak knife was white hot and still embedded in her body. it feels so tempting to scream in pain with every step, but — she's not trying to draw attention. doesn't want to invite questions. just wants the cool and dark confines of her room and to break into the emergency stash of morphine and gauze she'd pilfered from the infirmary months earlier.

but it's slow going. cabin 108 seems distant, and the whole hallway seems to be twisting at an angle, elongating right before her eyes. )

Ow —

( okay, one tiny whimper makes it past tightly clenched teeth.

her lower abdomen is an impressionist painting of dark blood soaked across a cotton-spandex blend. gravity has dragged the black smear downwards too, like ink seeping from the waistband of her shorts down to the cuff, where it branches into rivers running down the length of her right leg before leeching into the white of her sock. blood is all clarke can really smell. blood and rain water, with the thin undertone of stale gore that'd rubbed off of pratt's jacket when they wrestled on the deck. the urge to sit down and rest for a minute is incredibly tempting, but feels like tempting fate. who knew when she'd manage to get up again, or how near impossible the blood loss would make that venture.

nope, gotta keep going. no matter how slow and painful a walk it is, she can do this. )

[neverleave]

[If Clarke's hoping for a quiet retreat, she failed to account for her vampire bestie and his hunter's nose. Natsuno is busy organizing his stash of knives and scalpels in empty boxes from the sundries shop. He still feels bad about digging into Jade's past and tries to clean up some of the mess as an awkward apology.

It all comes to a grinding halt when his nostrils flare at the sudden scent of blood - some unfamiliar, but mostly nightblood and a lot of it.

He's thrown back to the island - how Clarke screamed his name, how the air became heavy with blood, how it seeped mercilessly through his school uniform while she shivered to death in his arms. You're okay. You're going to be okay, please be okay Natsuno, I'm sorry...

He runs into the corridor, and there's a moment of wide eyed, pure terror, white noise in his head until he realizes her injuries aren't lethal this time. Natsuno exhales and hurries along - when he makes it to Clarke's side, he's shutting down in favor of calm efficiency. Help first, find out who did it later. He offers her an arm to lean on.]

What do you need?

[skaikru]

( she's not that far from her own front door when the one just beyond it bursts open and into the hallway barrels maybe... the only person she wanted so see. but also the last, because there's a twinge of guilt at essentially showing up bleeding at natsuno's feet once again. if at all possible, the deep set lines of pain across her face deepen.

non-fatal, but still incredibly bloody. some of the expulsion of ink like blood seems to have ebbed since the deck, but she's still dripping onto the carpeted hallway and incredibly woozy. natsuno's at her side in an instant, offering an arm, and clarke leans heavily on the support; one bloodied hand around his wrist like one would latch onto a life ring while drowning. what does she need? her mind is a cloudy sort of disjointed, but still runs through the list of doctoral procedures and lands first on stop the bleeding. )

A — a compress. Maybe a shower...

( because secondly: beneath the fresh blood is the underlying scent of gore that had been attached to pratt's jacket. that's the only reason this fatal interaction had begun, because she'd stopped to tell him he reeked of death in his bloodstained army fatigue jacket, and had then ended up wrestling in close quarters for her life.

pain rules most of clarke's life right now, overriding any sense for how the stink clung to her own clothes. )

I want to say a Tylenol, but this is more morphine territory.

[neverleave]

[From this close, the stench of stale blood is nauseating, like rotten food. Black blood stains his hand and his t-shirt - he tries not to think about it. Instead, Natsuno lets her lean as much weight as she needs and steers her gently toward cabin 109. Perhaps Clarke's own cabin would be better, but he was never granted invitation and the thought of asking for one now doesn't even cross his mind. Between his friend's painful gasps, unwanted memories from the island and invisible, hostile barriers all around, his own room is the only option he can think of.]

Jade has a first aid kit. And he's out right now.

[With how meticulous his roommate is, Natsuno is certain there's gauze, antiseptic and maybe even painkillers, though whether it's morphine or not remains to be seen.]

[skaikru]

( pratt's jacket had been nauseating even for a non-supernatural nose. clarke had been a few breaths short of physically gagging at the beginning of their interaction, but at the end — after they'd been flush together on the floor of the deck, once she'd rolled off him and felt the beginning seeps of regret down to her bones — it hadn't even been a noticeable factor. that stench had curled back around once in the elevator down to the cabin levels, but despite her complaining list, how much she reeks of stale, otherworldly death is not high on the list of priorities.

maybe not outright dying, but clarke's still in no mood or state to argue. 109 sounds great, and the absence of any pseudo-parent figure even more inviting. she doesn't want to inflict this gory bloodsoaked scene on her new roommate, and thus follows his lead. )

Good. He seems the type to lecture.

( stubborn as ever, though, clarke may take natsuno's arm but makes a staunch effort not to lean too heavily on him. at least for the first few steps towards his door. the last few though — over the threshold and onto whatever seat he deems fit to deposit her on — the world starts tilting as a side effect of blood loss again. the tips of her fingers dig into the skin on his arms, and she's starting to sag with gravity's enticing invitation to just melt into the floor. )

[neverleave]

[Good, snark is good. The relief is short lived, though, because Clarke's starting to sag once they cross the threshold. Natsuno's arm tightens around her as he shifts, carrying her weight easily across those last few steps before lowering her gently onto Jade's couch.]

Don't pass out.

[He goes to grab the first aid kit from the bathroom, trying to ignore the pang of stupid, irrational fear that she'll be dead or disappear during the mere seconds she's out of his sight. But of course Clarke's still there when he comes back to set the kit next to her.]

What happened?

[skaikru]

I'm not going to —

( whoosh. where has the ground under her feet suddenly gone? oh, that was just the motion of being deposited on the couch, and the abrupt shift when gravity finally takes over. she maybe loses a second between being shrugged off natsuno's fullbodied support and hitting the couch cushions, and may be immediately tempted to just keel over and take a nap. but ultimately just shakes her head in an effort to stay awake and resist temptation.

bites the inside of her cheek too, while he rustles for the first aid kit. then her tongue, whilst busying herself with peeling the fabric of her shirt up to bare the gnarled stab wound. serrated blades were messy. they did a lot of damage upon entry, and even more as they exited the human body. torn flesh, a slowed but unstoppered leak of blood with every beat of her heart, pain spreading unchecked through her nervous system. clarke thinks she just exhales around a heavily pained sigh, but the sound that actually escapes between her teeth is more akin to a whimper.

then natsuno's back at her side with a first aid kit, and he's so much easier to focus on than her own pain. he should know what she'd just walked away from, the man was a potential threat to everyone on board, she'd just had the unlucky, unregenerative luck of maybe being the first to stumble upon him.

reaching out a hand for gauze, clarke rattles off — )

There was a guy on the deck. Just, out and walking around, talking about culling the herd. He didn't seem right, he didn't sound right — ( pratt's throat had been hoarse and torn from too many past screams, run ragged from tortures she knew nothing about; and that hadn't mattered the moment he drew his knife. ) He said he was hunting, and I couldn't let him just keep doing that.

[neverleave]

[Once she grabs the gauze, Natsuno digs a bottle of painkillers out of the kit and sets it on the coffee table next to a juice carton, just to make sure she doesn't start spouting lies. Other than that, he lets Clarke patch herself up until she asks otherwise. Helpless rage at hearing his best friend whimper mixes with shiki senses telling him there's a vulnerable meal right there, and the contrast is even more sickening than the stale stench of someone else's blood.

Huting, culling the herd. Some people here don't even pretend to need an excuse.]

And now he's dead.

[A cold stating of facts. Between the story of an unhinged man and Clarke's injuries, it's obvious only one could've walked away alive. She's upset, but Natsuno will justify her actions without even thinking.]

Who is he?

[Who does he need to stalk. Who's gonna get cut down if he ever decides to "cull the herd" again - ]

[skaikru]

Very dead.

( the bruised and split knuckles, the indentation of her knife handle across her palm, the slight abrasion of rope burn on both hands, a few loose hairs stuck to drying red blood between her fingers... all a testament to how very dead the man had been when she'd left, nevermind the fact gal friday had been hauling him to the morgue. clarke will feel terrible about this entire encounter regardless of natsuno's attempt to reinforce the validity of self defense, but later — when the bloodshed is less sharp and fresh in her mind — logic will win out. the death will be deemed justified, she'll better acknowledge that the attempt to talk him down had been effort enough, and it likely wasn't her failure that brought them to blows. but for now, the fat years gathering in the corners of her eyes are only mostly because it hurts to wipe off her stab wounds, and even more to pull at the skin to try to gauge how deep it went. )

I don't know, he wouldn't tell me his name —

( except, now that she has some space from a near death experience, some of the small and insignificant details that hadn't mattered in the moment come swimming to the surface. she'd knelt at his side and dragged dead eyes closed with her fingertips, she'd looked at his jacket, she'd seen the name tag sewn in between the stains of human misery. )

J. Seed, I guess. That's what was on his coat. Your height, dark hair, sort of emaciated...

[neverleave]

Okay. [A name, description and the scent of his blood. When this "J. Seed" wakes up, Natsuno will find him and creep from the shadows (this is normal behavior). None of it matters until tomorrow morning, though, and there are more urgent matters to attend. The jagged wounds look bad and he can hear Clarke's heartbeat, pulsing with fresh swells of black blood.]

What can I do? Should I take you to the infirmary - or call someone?

[Isn't there at least one magical healer among all the freaks? Or a doctor, they have doctors, someone had to take care of Rita's hand - ]

[skaikru]

( it's a little funny, on the list that immediately comes to mind of people that could be called for something like this, her best results category would be headlined by ebalon. their first meeting she'd pressed a hand into the tip of one of those moonbeam spears they've both become begrudgingly familiar with, and after he'd set to healing magic there hadn't been a single trace of the wound left. but she'd honestly rather bleed out on the couch than even think about the bastard, so that's an immediate no-go.

next is john watson, who'd amputated rita's arm and done preliminary triage for darcy after both their run in's with the captain. but she doesn't know him all that well, and couldn't tell you his room number without consulting a list right now.

palamedes seems a viable option, he's been a bit of her go-to for basic medical assessments. if he wasn't spent from any other magical practices, maybe he could at least do one of those internal scans and tell her how damaged her insides were but... )

I don't think he hit my intestines. ( there'd be bile spilling out along with blood if he had, right? she'd probably already be dead, and pratt would have had his way skinning her corpse. ) Or any major organs, so long as the bleeding stops, I think I'll be fine.

( and since pressure isn't doing the trick alone, and getting up to walk again actually sounds like straight up torture — )

Do you have... Give me a scalpel and, and a lighter.

[neverleave]

[Natsuno does have a scalpel, freshly robbed from the infirmary, as well as a collection of lighters from the sundries shop, still visible on his bed since he stopped his re-organizing efforts so abruptly.

He's sure as hell not going to get them, though, staring at Clarke instead.]

You want to perform some - field surgery on yourself? Don't be an idiot. If it's that bad, I'm taking you to the infirmary and we'll find someone to help.

[He doesn't if she resists, he's not just going to give her a freaking lighter and watch her scream trying to fix herself - ]

troy walking into flaming room with pizza.gif

[fonomena]

[Really, cabin 109 has to eventually have at least one month where there isn't something either incredibly awkward or incredibly depressing happening, right? Right?? ...Not that it looks like it's going to happen this month either...

Jade, for his part, had been having a perfectly nice evening so far? As nice as they can be aboard this particular ship, anyway. He'd left Natsuno to his (oddly sudden, but unspokenly appreciated) reorganization efforts to eat some dinner, a mere couple hours earlier, and so he...you know. Fully expects to return to 109 and find it either empty or with Natsuno still whittling away at converting his decently large stash of miscellany into something a bit more organized. Because knives really don't belong underneath a mattress, but he's gone and collected so very many of them--

Usually Jade tends to be out for rather longer on these sorts of evenings, too--generally spending a few hours more preoccupying himself with other matters about the ship after eating--and so Natsuno can't be blamed for figuring he'll be away for awhile yet. Fortunately(?), however, there's a deviation in the pattern tonight! Natsuno's ended up eating through quite a few of the spare boxes they had left lying around in the room, after all, and so Jade ends up taking a detour to the sundries shop before heading back to 109...

Which leads to, well. This moment here and now, in which Natsuno's words are punctuated by a couple knocks on the door almost immediately afterwards. As is Jade's more normal custom, a courtesy sort of warning, before the door's also pushing open and he's stepping inside--a closed umbrella and a couple of small empty cardboard boxes under one elbow--absentmindedly noting the lights are still on in the room, and starting to speak even before properly registering what's happening inside.]

Well, I may have very discreetly upended some items to acquire them from sundries, but I've a few more containers for you to--

[--What's happening inside the room is now registering.

Jade doesn't even get around to properly shutting the door behind him at first, as the absolute mess currently unfolding in the middle of 109 sinks in and he draws to an abrupt halt in the doorway. Blinks once, twice, glance leaping from Clarke's prone form on the couch to Natsuno's beside her, the drawn expressions on their faces and the--what is that? A whole lot of black substance, positively everywhere...but the gash in Clarke's exposed abdomen sure does parse as a wound all the same, and Jade's expression is flattening from surprise to grim neutrality almost immediately.]

--Who did this?

[It is perhaps a testament, to how very strongly Natsuno and Clarke have been telegraphing their implicit friendship for the last couple of months--that Jade's first instinct isn't suspicion pointed at either of them, but instead a sharply wary glance back out the door over his shoulder. Regardless of the answer, the first order of business sure is to pull it shut now--finally noting the trail of black on the floor, trailing in from the hall.

Really. Really. HE LEAVES THIS ROOM FOR LIKE TWO HOURS, GUYS......]

[skaikru]

( pft, two hours. like two minutes wasn't enough time to kill someone and get grievously wounded? realistically it'd been more like ten minutes, wherein the world had narrowed down to a square foot section of the deck and time seemed to have slowed; some of that had been attempting to talk the mad man down, and more had been spent with a chord around his neck and her knee between his shoulders just to make sure...

obviously the stab wound can't be that immediately life threatening, given clarke's almost immediately ready to engage in another fight over a knife. natsuno balks at the idea of field surgery, calls her an idiot, and if she could lever herself off the couch to get to the array of blades on the bed right now, you best believe she would. instead clarke's left scowling, holding out a bloody hand with a perpetual air of demand — just hand over the scalpel. and she's arguing through clenched teeth. )

Cauterization is a perfectly respectable course of treatment, just — ( knock knock on the door, but she doesn't register the sound over the increasing volume of her own voice. ) — give me the damn scalpel, Natsuno, I —

( but somewhere part way into jade's opening sentence, she clocks the figure in the doorway and trails off with a choked gulping sound that might have been a groan. less pressing of an excretion than the blood from ribcage to foot, there are very fat tears brought on by pain that are welling in the corners of clarke's eyes as she rips her attention from squabbling with natsuno to staring at jade. blinkingly, maybe with an initial visible shift towards fear and alarm, panic left over from, yanno, fighting for her life. but recognition hits pretty immediately.

they've come a long way since she bloodied his nose right about here. full circle, almost, as now clarke's bleeding all over his bed. she's only vaguely aware of how awful and confusing a tableu this must be, and more focused on giving him a small wave with a hand practically painted ink-black — hi buddy — before quickly switching gears.

who did this? unimportant, he's dead, natsuno could fill him in if he saw fit. clarke's pointing aggressively at the bed, and the contents strewn across the pillowtop. )

Jade, please give me a knife.

[neverleave]

[Natsuno scowls right back. Clarke's insisting on doing something stupid again - she's at the angry demands stage, which means he can refuse her one more time before she moves to nasty personal insults. Well, this time he's not budging. In fact, he doesn't even bother with reply, just looks her over considering the best way to pick her up and carry her to the damn infirmary -

Wait, someone's here. Natsuno turns to stare at Jade right alongside Clarke, except instead of alarm there's something almost like... relief, in his eyes?]

J.Seed. He's dead now.

[In other words, really unimportant. Clarke keeps demanding a knife, because of course she does, and Natsuno raises his voice, cutting in before she's even done speaking:]

Don't give her a knife.

[Remember that awkward conversation earlier the month, when Natsuno said he trusts Jade? Well, now he's looking at him like he's appealing a responsible adult to step in and do something - ]

[fonomena]

[Two hours, two minutes, look--the fact of the matter is that cabin 109 is shaping up to have already seen more blood than it ostensibly has any right to! Are Jade and Natsuno both going to have to just get used to opening the door whilst expecting the possibility that a disaster may or may not be unfolding on the other side at any given moment, going forward? Is this just going to be a tradition, now??

--This all is rather full circle in the end, though, from the bloody nose of some time past. Jade will perhaps be reflecting upon the weird parallels of all this at some point later....but, well, the time to do that is certainly not now, is it?

J. Seed. Not a name that bears any familiarity. (A newer passenger on board?) Not a lot of context to work with in general here, either, though Natsuno's prompt report on the stranger's Very Not Alive status does settle at least one point of concern here--even if there are quite a few points of concern still remaining, all things considered. The box and umbrella alike are haphazardly set aside atop the desk, before Jade's crossing the room to draw up beside Natsuno and frown down critically at Clarke. --She immediately points at the knives strewn on the bed some feet away, and demands one at the exact same time Natsuno denies one, and Jade flicks a long look from Clarke, to Natsuno, and back to Clarke again.]

Well now, no need to try and end it all just yet until we assess the damage first, yes? [Granted, a brief flicker of extremely dry humor is perhaps not quite the most model Responsible Adult thing to be doing right now.....but at least Natsuno's trust isn't displaced just yet, if only in the sense that Jade didn't quite catch that bit about cauterization before opening the door earlier. Believe it or not, Jade is in fact not the sort of person to just happily hand an injured person a knife on demand without at least a little more context first, sorry Clarke!

No, instead, he's eventually sinking down into a kneel beside the couch, the better to properly assess the stab wound. Looks like it's already been somewhat cleaned, at least...did Clarke even get around to putting together a proper compress before now, though? If not, Jade's reaching for a couple of gauze pads from the first aid kit, because this injury sure is still bleeding...something out, and even if pressure alone might not be enough to stem it, applying pressure until a proper solution's narrowed down certainly couldn't hurt. ...Well, the more literally painful aspects of this whole ordeal aside, anyway...]

What was the weapon used, some form of knife? Doesn't appear to have stricken any organs... [To leap right to business here, as he takes up whatever compress ends up being available and presses it firmly over the gash without much further fanfare--] How long has it been since the altercation? --I do hope your blood normally looks like this, by the way, or you might be suffering an ailment I've surely never seen before. [A brief look is cast over in Natsuno's direction once more.] Is there a reason we're not calling in a proper medical doctor already?

[skaikru]

( sorry, who here was opening doors and not expecting to find bloodshed, existential horrors, and imminent danger behind each and every panel of wood? forget tradition, this feels more like a taste of the future reality gal friday and the captain promise, whenever the thin vestiges of community crumble beneath them and mass violence is no longer limited to outings.

frustration and blood loss don't mix all that well. natsuno ratchets up his own volume, effectively speaking over her, and the look clarke gives him is absolutely withering. but they're spared personal barbs traded back and forth today, she just hisses — ) Stop it. ( — and reaches to smack him on the arm. a glancing blow, pain blossoms in her stomach before there can be any real follow through, and she's leaning back on the couch in a slump. a fresh douse of pained sweat breaks out along her hairline, and hey, when did the room get so cold?

The Wither remains firmly etched on clarke's features as jade makes an alarmingly casual attempt at humor. it doesn't land properly, she'd smack him too if he were any closer. but by the time the man drops his armful of cardboard and kneels at her makeshift sickbed, the urge has dissipated along with the energy to. she's tracking his hands as gauze is gathered — the only previous compress had been her own palms, but she'd wiped a decent amount of blood off the immediate wound area already; it's a very stark abyss carved into the flesh, welling with continual slow but steady leaks of blood as dark as midnight. clarke's pretty sure pratt had scraped the bone of her hip, but any calcified white is obscured with blood — and instinctually fists her hands in the fabric of the couch. this is going to hurt. )

S — steak knife, from the dining area I'd guess. ( come to think of it, she'd picked it up before trailing after friday, so where had she dropped it? oh well, that train of thought immediately exits her brain as jade just, casually and conversationally, sticks a wad of gauze directly against her stab wound and presses to form a proper compress. there's an outright growl originating from her throat, but the tone shifts into a squeak at the end; an outright scream that's tempered by sheer force of will and the immovable stubbornness of teenagers. her eyes are wide, pupils pinpoint, and she's staring at jade like she'd really like to shout every obscenity she knows in his face in this exact second. just, fucking — ow??

thanks of course, but ow????!?!?

to at least one of his questions, chest heaving and teeth clenched, clarke tries to trace back the last chunk of her life in a linear fashion, but only lands on: ) F...orty five minutes, maybe? I don't know.

( her blood has been black long enough it's not alarming, that's not something she deigns to answer. natsuno can if he wants, but he's currently on the outskirts of clarke's vision and she's barely acknowledging her bestie. )

You were in the military. Didn't they cover triage, Colonel?

[neverleave]

[Did she just smack him? Natsuno gives her an incredulous glare, mostly annoyed but also kind of impressed with her commitment to being a stubborn bitch. Too bad it's not enough to make him feel relief - you'd think having the energy to smack and sass is a good sign, but Clarke Griffin can mostly definitely be rude as hell even with death literally at her feet.]

Black blood is normal.

[No further explanation - he just wants Jade to focus on the important stuff.]

I don't know who's a proper medical doctor here. [Clarke's scream makes his guts twist. It's not the awful sound she made when he tried to apply pressure to her bleeding stump of an arm, but still, still - ] How bad is it? Shouldn't we go to the infirmary?

[His tone and expression are stoic as usual, but this is rambling in Natsuno's standards. He lived an average, sheltered life before turning, never having to dealing with worse than a broken hand after falling off a bike. Then he gained a healing factor and stopped worrying at all.

This situation, though? He has no idea what to do and he's freaking out.]

[fonomena]

[Adrenaline sure can be a gateway to all kinds of impressive feats...like being able to sit up long enough to deliver a smack by sheer power of teen sass alone, even through a concerning amount of blood loss. No surprise Clarke would see fit to channel such a thing about now, really, though it's good that throwing such displeasure in Natsuno's general direction ends up sapping the last of her strength and returns her to a more prone position on the couch again before long. As far as Jade's concerned, this evening is already unfurling into quite enough of a hassle without him having to try wrestling Clarke Griffin into submission in 109 a second time around, even if it would probably be a lot easier this time...

At any rate, as Natsuno could probably attest from that promenade sign incident the time before, Jade isn't particularly given to leaving patients with much in the way of warnings before performing rather painful measures of assistance upon them--a philosophy of "ripping off the bandaid" taken to a logical extreme, so to speak. Actually, in general Natsuno may be finding some familiarity in Jade's overall demeanor about now--the utterly neutral set of his expression, and the meticulously measured calm of his movements as the gauze is arranged and pressure is applied, not so much as a flinch passing over his frame as a fairly expected amount of pained noise tears its way out of Clarke's throat. (All things considered, this isn't nearly as nasty as having to yank that sign out of Natsuno's gut the one time, and hopefully it stays that way in this particular case...) Her wide-eyed stare is impassively returned with Jade's own unnaturally red glance--a slight acknowledging nod, to her tenuous assessment of the time that's passed since the stabbing...followed by a slight arching of eyebrows, at the questions she goes on to push out in turn.]

Oh, no, I just enjoy pushing on stab wounds and listening to the agonized noises for the fun of it, actually. [With a flare of sarcastic cheer that's punctuated by Jade adjusting the angle of the gauze over the wound and then pressing down even more firmly--objectively to apply a more evenly-distributed pressure to the gash. The perfect timing is a bit incidental, but rolled with; really, Clarke, did you need to ask that question?] ...Which is to say. Yes, I'm familiar enough with field triage, though I'm not a seventh fonist--I don't have any healing capabilities of my own.

[With a flicker of a pang, of the internal sort, Jade very briefly wishes Tear or Natalia were here...before snuffing that thought out just as quickly, because--no, he doesn't want them here, not like this. (...And he's not looking at Natsuno yet at this point, anyway, but he quite hopes the boy's propensity for poker faces is holding just as consistent about now. Or that, at the very least, the tenseness of the current situation is enough to override any particularly distinct thoughts about the confrontation they'd had in this room at the beginning of the month--where Jade's past aspirations with the seventh fonon might have been concerned--) The pause following these words is imperceptible, before Jade's continuing on.]

...The infirmary's two decks below, that's quite a bit of transit. If she's been losing blood at this rate or worse for over half an hour already, moving her too much at this point may be unwise. [Assuming her blood and her body's tolerance for the loss of it still functions more or less the same as it does for a normal human--to base things off Clarke's lack of a response and Natsuno's simple claim that the inky blackness welling from her injury is, in fact, normal for her. A few scientific questions in this vein sure are brewing somewhere in the back of thought, but Jade ignores them--for a later time--in favor of properly looking over to Natsuno at length. The stream of words and line of questioning is rather harried by Natsuno standards, he's noticing...all the more reason to maintain a pensive calm of his own, as he mulls over the pieces of the situation set before them.] For future reference, John Watson is one qualified medical professional I know of on board presently. But we'd want to call him here, and I don't know whether he's in his cabin or somewhere else presently...while time is rather of the essence, about now. Hm, from a wound like this, the bleeding will likely not stem with applied pressure alone...but we've no implements for sutures in here presently...

[Which leaves...well. Jade returns his glance back down to Clarke, with a faint and humorless sort of smile.]

Ah, now I understand why you were demanding the knife. Well-read in field triage yourself, now aren't you? ...Yuuki, I see you have some scalpels on your bed there; bring one over. ...And a clean towel from the bathroom as well, I think.

[skaikru]

( no no no, natsuno. with death nipping at her toes is when she starts apologizing.

this is just... blood loss. a slower encroachment of death if it isn't stopped; her head is (threatening to dive in the deep end of a pool and desperately doggy paddle) swimming, heart is hammering out a strained beat and the tips of her fingers don't seem to want to work as she tries to grip at the sleek upholstery of the couch. she's cold, but not shivering so bad as to the point when her teeth start to chatter. the only immediately alarming sign that she's wobbling on the edge of succumbing to blood loss is the fact that jade's sarcasm actually hits as funny. downright hilarious, clarke almost barks out a laugh in the man's face. but he repositions the gauze, presses down even harder, and this time she screams proper.

a tangled mess of notes resonating from stiff vocal chords, garbled by spit and her own tongue. her entire body goes rigid, then the very human instinct to shy away from pain goes to war with her better judgement; she wants to curl towards the back cushions of the couch, bury her face in the blood smeared fabric, and cry. but instead hisses with every ounce of venom — ) Ungh, fuck you. ( — directly in jade's face.

simultaneously, a black painted hand wraps around his wrist. tight, to the point of bruising, like she's anchoring herself to life in the same gesture as anchoring jade's ministrations to her stab wound. vaguely, clarke pulls, like she wants him to press down harder, get your full bodyweight behind this jade. she doesn't want to die here, especially not in front of natsuno. expletives may have been easier to wheeze out, but the real sentiment here is thank you.

there's more words exchanged between the two uninjured parties here, but clarke only has the wherewithal to focus on a few phrases. john watson — yes, he would have been an option, but would that have played out any differently? infirmary — she still resolutely calls it the medbay in her own mind. sutures — an option, but not one she'd considered because tying off one's own blood vessels and sewing up wounds would take more effort than she had. meanwhile if natsuno's babbling more than usual, she's not going to truly digest that change in his speech pattern until later, when pain doesn't rule her life and practical action isn't at the forefront of her mind.

then it's like jade has a lightbulb moment. smiles at her with a flat sort of serenity, and clarke nods with as much vigorous gusto as she can manage. yes, i am. yes, that's what i want. yes, get a knife. and on the tail end of his room-specific shopping list given to natsuno, she sees fit to weakly tack on — )

And the lighter.

[neverleave]

[Jade's terrible bedside manner is fine. It means things aren't as bad as they can be, or else there would only be deliberate calm and no sarcasm. Natsuno doesn't remember snarky comments when Jade thought he was critically injured.

The mention of the seventh fonon triggers absolutely no reaction. Jade's past are exactly that and Natsuno will never mention it again, not to anyone.

He does react when Clarke scream, though, grimacing for a split second before he can put the stoic mask back in place. Losing his cool isn't going to help, actually helping is, which is why he brings the scalpel, towel - and yes, the lighter too - without a word.

He does make a point of giving it to Jade, though.]

[fonomena]

[True, things could certainly be worse--even if they happen to be skirting rather close to more critical territory, with the extent of Clarke's blood-loss up to this point considered. That news of the approximate forty minutes elapsed since the initial stabbing has tipped the scales in one sense, where priorities are now rather promptly shifting from 'getting hold of a truly qualified professional' to 'making the best of a pretty narrow timetable', which is the main reason Clarke and Jade now happen to actually be reaching an outright agreement about an unpleasant prospect for once. --But things are still quite salvageable, Jade thinks, so long as they work quickly and carefully in these next several minutes; definitely a better outlook than Natsuno seemingly fatally getting run through by a sign had been. Overall, Natsuno's quite correct to use Jade's levels of sarcasm as something of a situation barometer...

...Which goes on to be affirmed quite promptly, when Clarke curses him out with all the justified vehemence of any soldier under a great deal of painful duress, and Jade simply nods approvingly in response.] Yes, there you go, that's the spirit! [So the mildly sardonic cheer remains, in these small bursts, while Clarke's latching onto his wrist with a vice grip and Jade ups the pressure a bit more under the prompt of her tugging. Goodness, that probably is going to bruise a bit later--but he's not begrudging her this for the moment. Everyone has their own means of anchoring themselves.] May as well let it all out now; you're going to want to make room for later, I'm sure.

["Later" being more like "the extremely near future", now practically brought to the present as Natsuno moves to gather the requested items without further comment. Even if Jade doesn't quite manage to respond in time to Clarke's weakly tacked-on extra request, before Natsuno's returning with all three things; Jade does take the lighter off his hands, even as he takes the scalpel and towel as well, but...] The intention is sound, but I won't be needing a lighter for this; I actually find I have far more precision of applied heat to metal with the fifth fonon, myself. Honestly, it'll be a bit refreshing to administer burns that aren't a lethal sort for a change...

[Well, though the humor is swinging a bit more grim here; even Jade can't exactly overtly downplay how distinctly unpleasant the next several minutes are probably about to be. Still, there's now a mild issue of having one hand a bit aggressively accosted here, so that's going to need addressing first; setting the items down on the couch next to the first aid kit initially, Jade moves to gently place his free hand on Clarke's in turn, before shifting to tug slightly at the fingers in a death grip about his wrist.]

I'm going to need all fingers freed for this, of course--and I'd like to check if things have clotted any as well, before we begin. In the meantime, though... [Should Clarke eventually release his hand, Jade will be giving her something else to hold onto before long, in the form of the towel that he'll proceed to take up and press into her hands shortly after.] You'll probably want to get ready to bite down on this, if you'd rather not risk your tongue. ...We both understand there will be cauterizing, yes? I've some experience with this, so I'll try to keep it as efficient as can be--but I'm afraid it's a bit late for you to take any painkillers that will kick in fast enough to help right now, considering we unfortunately don't have any morphine in these quarters. I cannot say this will be painless...but this is still acceptable, to you?

[After Clarke's answer, Jade will be turning his attention back over to Natsuno as well, as he reaches for the scalpel next. He hasn't exactly been missing the wincing grimaces that cross Natsuno's features every time Clarke makes a particularly harrowing noise, brief as those expressions might have been--very understandable reactions. But all the same...]

This will probably be quite unpleasant to witness and hear as well, Yuuki. ...I won't fault you if you'd prefer to step outside, until we're done. But the choice is yours.

[skaikru]

( it's a weird sort of intimate familiarity, to cuss someone out directly in their face as a pain management technique, and be met with an easy, sardonic smile and unending encouragement. another moment in the books, for her and jade curtiss' weirdly physical proximity moments. and now he's undoubtedly got her blood smeared from fingertip to wrist.

a lot like trying to pry her from the barred siding of the deck railing, it will undoubtedly take jade a tug or two to completely disentangle clarke's grip from around his wrist. she's not outright unwilling to let him go, understands the priority of duty and the pressing need for medical attention but it's just like... she can't let go. for a second. it takes actual conscious effort on her end to slacken her grip, and more to focus on taking that proffered towel and twisting the end into a makeshift gag between shaking fingers.

she doesn't have the mental energy to try to parse out how fonons can be scientifically linked to the phonons and heat generated from vibrations as she knows it. literally could not care less in the moment, is busy focusing on the terrycloth between numb fingertips and bracing herself for a whole new world of hurt. wringing rough fabric, nodding when jade checks in on their course of action. morphine would have been nice, but the absence of a painkiller doesn't do much to dissuade clarke from nodding her head and pushing past another pained whimper. )

Uh-huh. It's fine, I've had worse.

( do it. not her first time burning, might not be her last. at least this time was going to be localized, and for the very important measure of keeping her alive. it takes jade's acknowledgement and invitation for natsuno to step outside for her to remember he's right at their side, hovering and fretting as much as his cool demeanor allows. right. this whole scenario sucks on the experiencing end, but can't possibly be anything less than traumatic to witness too. )

It's okay. You can go.

( he already knows what burning flesh smells like. there's no need for a refresher course, this up close and personal. even while bringing the twisted towel end to her lips, clarke's sparing a few seconds to crane her neck and look up at natsuno, nodding emphatically. it's okay. )

[neverleave]

[Jade takes control of the situation with calm efficiency, and still finds time for inappropriately blithe commentary. Natsuno is actually starting to feel a bit... better? Like the knot in his chest is somewhat loosening. Is this how it feels to have an actual helpful adult around? Like you don't have to do everything yourself?

Despite his best efforts, both Jade and Clarke notice his discomfort and gently suggest he leave. The fact that they're both concerned with his feelings when Clarke is the one suffering makes him even more uncomfortable, but he really doesn't want to see this. He doesn't want to hear his best friend cry while Jade burns her flesh with magic, doesn't want to smell it.

She'll be fine this time. It's not like he leaves her alone.]

Okay. I'll go get morphine.

[Better do something useful. Maybe it won't help right now, but it's good to have it in the cabin. And maybe more gauze and antiseptic and yeah, looting the infirmary real quick sounds like a plan, exit stage left.]

[fonomena]

[The fact that Natsuno's actually feeling reassured as he witnesses this utterly atrocious example of bedside manner truly is something of a testament to the kinds of adults he's had to work with up to this point, huh.......

As far as Jade's concerned, of course, all this is truly pretty much the bare minimum so far as action in the face of unexpected injury goes. It doesn't at all occur to him that his general conduct at the moment could actually parse as anything substantially comforting, by any stretch--and would honestly be very surprised, if he were ever informed as much?? But it's enough that nobody in this room is giving in to any particularly overt form of panic, and for once both Natsuno and Clarke are proving to be almost strangely cooperative. The bonding impetus of a good stabbing really is something else, it would seem....but, of course, this is no time for thinking particularly hard on all that.

No, here and now, Clarke's readily agreeing to an incoming session of exceptional pain, and Natsuno's...actually agreeing to step out for a bit, too. Under the admittedly thin guise of an infirmary raid, sure, but for once Jade's not at all inclined towards calling him out on the pretense at the moment. Instead he only blinks, and then nods in turn, expression still the neutral sort of calm he's been maintaining between bouts of sarcasm.]

A good idea; do pick up anything else that may seem beneficial. I'll send you a message, if I finish cauterizing this wound before you return. [Which, ostensibly, is code for "I'll let you know when it's safe to come back", much the same way "I'll go get morphine" happen to be code for "yes I actually really don't want to be here for seeing my friend suffer". This, too, a necessary sort of pretense.

And then Natsuno's out of the room, and the door's shutting behind him, and Jade's turning his full attention back to Clarke with soft and thoughtful sort of hum.]

...Hm, I wasn't actually certain he'd be willing to leave. Just as well, though. I expect he has not seen field triage on this sort of unpleasant level before--but there's necessary experience, and then there's unnecessary cruelty...

[--Well, but Jade may be half-talking to himself at this point, whether or not Clarke's already gotten around to gagging herself yet. Don't mind him; even as he's processing this particular musing aloud, Jade's adjusting his kneeling position beside the bed, and starting to arrange the necessary items on the coffee table in a position near prompt reach at his elbow--more gauze, antiseptic, the scalpel--before finally properly lifting the gauze pads from Clarke's stab wound, now that she's relinquished her grip on his wrist. Assuredly, both his hands are going to be thoroughly painted with her blood by the end of this, but at least it's hardly the first time he's had his hands soaked with blood either! (For far worse reasons than this, actually!) Even if the blackness is rather new. Goodness, it's even inkier than monster blood, really...an absent musing in the back of thought, as Jade studies the way it wells up from the gash once uncovered. Certainly bleeding out at a slower rate now, which means the earlier applied pressure did some good, but...]

...Yes, it seems there are vessels that still need closed. So far your blood appears to congeal at a roughly equivalent rate to normal...but the flow is still a bit too steady. Terribly messy things, serrated knives.

[He really is very curious to learn more about this J. Seed, at some point in the future. A description, at least, if nothing else...but, later.] One more round of sanitizing-- [Intoned in a neutrally even fashion rather weirdly reminiscent of a lab tech announcing the next step in an experiment for a recording--which actually isn't very far off the mark at all, admittedly--but the habit also serves as a half-second warning, for Clarke, before Jade's moving to carefully wash the wound one more time, antiseptic with gauze.] --there. Now I'll be heating the implement. Do get yourself as comfortable as you can, would you?

[A sure signal for Clarke to get herself fully acquainted with that towel, now, if she hasn't already. Measured and methodical as can be, Jade's taking the scalpel between his hands, fingertips deftly familiar around the handle as he takes a moment to angle the blade over a palm, and apply a second or two's worth of concentration. In the quiet of the room the sound that briefly localizes about the scalpel's knife-edge is audible: a softly humming sort of reverb, as fifth fonons are carefully drawn to the focal point of the blade, and then modulated to a point just shy of open flame appearing, or the metal starting to glow overtly red. Hot enough to burn, but not so hot as to be overly-damaging...about--there. Yes.

The sound fades, but the heat remains as real and persistent as it would have been with the application of a lighter, and Jade's focusing his attention upon the stab wound anew. A free hand is placed bracingly on Clarke's hip, another warning made alongside his second one aloud.]

Here we go.

[Heated metal presses upon flesh, and so Clarke Griffin has yet another new entry to add to her ledger of 'fun burning incidents'. (She's "had worse" burns than this in the past, has she? The notion doesn't surprise Jade, somehow, but he imagines the fact generally remains that even one burning incident is generally one highly unpleasant incident too many--)]