cape_kore | Day 109; Video 005

Entry tags:

Day 109; Video 005

[Her body slams into the ground and her communicator turns on without her knowledge. The sun is setting, and the picture is dim.

There's blood splashed over it, and dripping past it from the injuries on her arm. Harsh panting comes over the line. Another hand, the fingers snapping back into alignment without any help reaches out.

Static covers the screen, and then comes back, covered with red hair with forming bruises blossoming on the pale skin. Blood drips off her nose, a tear follows it.

Brigid is trying to move, trying to get up, but there's a creak and she whimpers. The wind blows her hair back - strands stick to her face, in the blood, and against the bruises.

Static covers the screen again, blocking out the horrific mess her face is, and the black blood she just puked up. When it comes back on, she's mid-sentence and weak.]

--eed help. Derek, pl --

[The feed cuts out and doesn't turn back on.]

[OOC: Derek will be picking her up and taking her back to the lighthouse, she's not at the fountain and isn't sure where she is... so, she can try to talk.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Out on a run across the beach, Derek slows as he takes note of the few seconds of feed before it cuts out completely to dead static, but even without it he would know that scent anywhere, and when he catches it on the breeze, he turns around and heads straight for her without a second thought.

The feed didn't allow him to see much, but he's seen enough to know the sooner he finds her, the better, and he's ready to rip someone's throat out for the state she's in.

In his beta form, running as fast as he can make his legs go, it doesn't take him long to reach the opposite end of the beach, finding her in a heap by the docks with the scent of blood thick in the air.

Slowing, he approaches carefully, holding his hands out as if to show he's not going to hurt her, even though his nails are extended with the thought of a threat nearby, he crouches by her, face tight with rage and concern. ] Brigid?

[She cracks open blood encrusted eyes. Her face is a mess, her clothing worse. Everything is bloody and slashed to shreds. Brigid swallows, flinching back for a moment.

His scent reaches her quickly and she tries to take a deep breath, but it hurts too much. She manages to roll her head and cough out... something. She doesn't even notice now.]

Derek? Alpha... I challenged.

[There's tears in her eyes, because she doesn't know what to do or say. She's been tossed out of her pack for a lot of reasons, and not the least of which is that she took on the Alpha.]

[ The black blood from her body trying to heal itself terrifies him with worry, because it's never a good sign, but he doesn't have access to anything here that can help heal a wound from an alpha more effectively.

As soon as the words are out, Derek is kneeling do by her side, his hands gingerly touching where he can't see bruises or blood, and there's instantly black veins creeping up his arms where he's absorbing what pain he can to help.

His voice is soft, a little broken from where he's trying to keep a strong front for her sake, and he wants to gather her into his arms and take her somewhere he knows is safe, but he also doesn't want to cause her more pain. ]

It's okay. You're safe. I'm here. [ Carefully drawing her hair back from her face, which comes away soaked in blood, he shifts out of the way behind her ears. ] Where's the worst of it?

[The loss of some of the pain drains some of the tension away. She takes a breath that isn't hitched with pain, or with blood. She never thought it would be this bad. She's fought with other wolves before - pack squabbles are normal - but she's never been so thoroughly trounced by anyone.]

He broke my leg, my ribs.

[Without some of the pain her voice is steadier.]

Rest is minor.

[ He growls at the mere thought of someone doing this to her, but he's already looking at the state of her leg, eyeing up her front as if he can see through her shirt. ]

I need to get you back to the lighthouse. [ He pushes himself up back into a crouch, arms wavering awkwardly as he tries to figure out the best, quickest way to be the most efficient at scooping her further. ] Are you okay to let me lift you?

[There's honestly not much shirt left. It's mostly claw marks and blood. She hadn't worn the bomber jacket because she hadn't wanted to risk it. The question makes her swallow hard.]

Just do it.

[She grips the messenger bag with her good hand because that is never leaving her.]

[ His gaze drops to the bag as she seems to cling onto it that much more firmly, and he frowns at it, but he doesn't ask; he can do that later, when he knows she's healing and he's got her cleaned up.

He does as she says, though, taking another moment to build up to it before he's gathering her in closer, an arm curling under her knees and the other wrapping around her.

He hoists her up and then he's running as fast as he dare without jostling her too much. ]

[The comforting warmth of not being alone any more is completely ruined by the light jostling. She clings to the bag and tries not to pass out from the pain. It hurts. She buries her face in his shirt and will apologize for the blood later.

She starts shivering as shock settles in and more and more pain registers in the recesses of her mind. Markus has done a number on her and she's terrified. Her fingers creak as the bones reset themselves almost violently while she uses them.

It hurts to breathe, but she doesn't make a sound when he puts her down in the lighthouse, leaving her eyes closed. The shivering gets worse, but she clutches the bag, not wanting to lose it.]

[ He barely notices the wet warmth seeping into the thin fabric of his shirt, but it's hardly his biggest concern as he glances down at her and suddenly speeds up; he's going to hurt her no matter what he does, but the quicker it's over, the better.

He barges into the lighthouse with a harsh kick to the door, rushing her up and through to the living room to deposit her onto the sofa. He grabs a blanket from the back and covers her with it. ]

Try not to move, okay? I'll get something to help clean you up.

[ He's put together what he can of a makeshift first aid kit since Stiles moved in, just in case, but he never thought he would need to use it on her. He disappears to the kitchen that's still in a bit of a state and gets hot water and a cloth as well. ]

[Stiles is already there, the pot of water boiling faintly, a wad of cloth that might have been a ripped up pillowcase piled on the cleanest surface in the room.]

Yeah, I know, I saw the feed.

[He's full of restless energy, chewing on a non-existent hangnail as he paces.]

She looks pretty bad. Like really bad. How bad is she?

[The bag falls to the floor because it hurts too much to hold on her abdomen. She keeps her hand on it though. Too desperate, too sore.

A cough bubbles up in her throat and she twists to hack over the side of the sofa onto the floor. Her body is not happy with all the healing necessary. She tries to huff in a breath but her wounds hurt too much.]

I can hear you, Stiles.

[She rolls back onto her back and grimaces. Everything is cut to shreds, including her dignity.]

[ He's rummaging around, trying to find anything that will help, but they're limited for supplies, so he doesn't expect miracles to happen.

He's frowning with worry when he looks over to check that she's okay, or as okay as she can be, and then looks to Stiles. ]

She challenged an alpha. The wounds take longer to heal. And I don't have what I need to make sure they heal all the way through.

[ He's glad Stiles is there, though, it helps to keep him calm, the anger at bay, even though he can't reach the alpha who did this to her trapped here. ]

Okay, we need something to sterilise the wounds. Hot water's good, but it's not gonna cut it.

[He looks over as well, sees the mess that her Alpha made of her and swallows. Hard.]

S- so we're gonna need alcohol. Strong. A-and... Jesus, are we gonna need to sew that up?

[Brigid shivers. No, she does not want stitches. They'd just pull anyway. And itch. She's seen what stitches can do to a wolf and doesn't want that. She tries to pull off the remains of her shirt and whimpers, biting her lip.

But there is a solution for alcohol.]

In the top shelf of the pantry all the way in the back.

[She stops and takes deep breaths, feeling her leg straightening out.]

Moonshine.

[Another cough and she tries to hold her middle together with an arm.]

[ Head turning sharply, he glares at Stiles and then rolls his eyes. ]

If it comes to it, you're going outside.

[ He goes straight to the pantry, the frowning coming back into places as he reaches up and digs out a bottle; he knew it was there, could smell it, but he didn't bother question it before. ]

I thought I told you to keep still.

[ Heading back to the living room, Derek turns back to Stiles. ] Get that water in here as soon as it's done.

It's ready to go now.

[He grabs the pan and the cloths and follows him out. It's already boiled, he's just been waiting for it to cool so she won't have to endure scalding on top of her injuries.

Moving to kneel next to her, he gives her a shaky little smile.]

You know, you're really putting a downer on the whole experience of seeing you shirtless.

[It's a bad joke, but it's better than the alternative, which would be him hardcore freaking out.]

Edited 2013-09-15 01:34 (UTC)

[She winces and closes her eyes. She almost wants to bare her throat for Derek, because he had told her to stay put, but she hadn't moved much except when coughing required it.]

Sorry.

[She whispers, because everything hurts and she's Omega now. Ticking off the Alpha in front of her isn't a good idea.

Stiles' comment makes her crack open an eye.]

Pig.

[But there's no heat to it. She just feels someone had to say it.]

[ The growl comes out aimed in Stiles' direction before he can think to stop it; he might not be the best alpha in the world, but he is protective, and jokes in poor taste that imply taking advantage aren't as funny as some people might think in stressful situations.

Still, seconds later, he's using a claw or two to help rid her of what's left of the shredded shirt so he can see the damage beneath. He soaks the cloth in water, ignoring the way it burns his hands, and wrings it out. ]

I didn't think you would come back. [ He's selfishly relieved that she did, though, even in this state. He's not the best at talking, but if it helps distract her while they clean her up then he'll give it a go. ] What happened?

[Stiles, miraculously, ignores the growl. He's been through far too much with Derek at this point to be intimidated by that.

Instead, he takes Brigid's hand in his, giving it a very gentle squeeze. This is gonna hurt.]

[Stiles may not whimper from the growl, but Brigid does. She's had a growl directed at her very recently and as the wounds show, it hadn't turned out well for her.

As the shirt comes away in pieces, some of her dignity is saved: Most of her sports bra is intact. Not that she'd care right now, but it's nice to know. Her skin quivers as he pulls cloth out of wounds.

Concentrating on not breaking Stiles' hand helps too.]

Two years ago, the Alpha killed my Da.

[She swallows as one long strip comes out of a deep gash on her stomach.]

I asked why, and when he didn't answer, I waited. Then, I challenged him. I lost.

[Obviously.]

[ At the lack of a reaction from Stiles and the one he gains from Brigid, Derek regrets it almost instantly, sighing heavily, and he offers a quiet apology.

It takes a few minutes to get as much of the debris from the wounds without ripping them open, freezing when she gasps, and then he's carefully wiping around them, cleaning up as much of the drying and wet blood as he can.

He shouldn't be surprised that it was her own alpha who did this to her, and he's glad he doesn't know more than his first name or he might hunt him down if he ever gets out of here and rip him limb from limb. He could be called a lot of things, but even he wouldn't do this to one of his own. ]

He could have killed you. [ He knows it could be much worse than it is, and his expression goes blank at the thought. ] And the bag?

[He stays quiet, surprisingly, and shuffles closer to lean against the sofa. He knows he can't do much without getting in the way, but he can offer quiet comfort while Derek's bathing her wounds.]

[Tears gather on her lashes. she knows Mark could have killed her. Probably would have been kinder too. She swallows down the tears, obedience being the one thing she learned before she could walk.]

I just wanted to know why my Da was killed.

[And now she never will. Because going back and challenging Mark again is suicide and she's still Catholic.

At the mention of the bag, her eyes immediately find it again.]

Da's bomber jacket, from the Marines. And the Chronicle.

[ That breaks something inside of him that he almost forgot was there, because she doesn't sound that different from Laura after the fire, the need to know what happened to their family, the who and the why, and the something must have triggered it. He would give anything not to know the answer, but here she is, ripped open and bleeding because she was desperate to find out. ]

Knowing isn't always better.

[ But he's not going to tell her she's stupid, that she shouldn't have done it, because it's not his place; he wishes she hadn't, though, not to be left like this. ]

The chronicle?

[She swallows. She knows her Da. He wouldn't have challenged the Alpha. Not for some random reason. There had to have been a purpose behind it. She'd just wanted to know why.]

It's... a bestiary, history, diary all in one. Most of it is in Latin, or Gaelic. I've been translating it.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Was told to skip Stiles this round.