[openish]

[sorrycharles]

CHARACTERS: Erik Lehnsherr, Iezabel Sadonna, Charles Xavier, Rikku, others pending.
LOCATION: Debris Trail, Base Camp, Etc.
WARNINGS: Gore
SUMMARY: Erik meets the 15 mile tether via beating himself nearly to death with it and is dragged back to camp by a good kind noble samaritan.
NOTES: Catch all, currently with closed starters. PM or hit me up elsewhere if you've got something you'd like to do and I can grind a starter out or you can. Believe in your dreams.


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Comments

Iezabel Sadonna >> Debris Trail

[sorrycharles]

[ There’s something so specifically, viscerally rich and red about the blood of earth creatures. It calls out to the eye when it’s smeared and spattered over the vivid greens of jungle undergrowth -- begs a closer look, when glimpsed at a distance.

This particular trail has had time to thicken and cool. The drops are medium sized and evenly spaced, dripped down through the foliage from head high. Broad, finger-painted strokes of red on black mark trunks where the source braced for balance in passing.

It’s easy to follow.

Eventually, there’s a nest of stirred leaf litter and earth muddy with blood where it looks like someone might’ve taken an unscheduled nap. The trail picks up again a few paces on, and on

and on

until the trees thin out entirely and the jungle opens into a trench scarred into the earth for miles, littered with stripped, splintered logs and blackened debris.

For an eye who knows what it’s looking for ahead, a body is visible at a distance: a living lump of filthy, blood-stained canvas, skin and scruff breathing thin in the shadow of a felled tree. For one that doesn’t, the blood trail weaves on out into the clear, staining dirt and bits of rock on its way to the same shadow of the same felled tree. A man is passed out in a slouch against the base, chin to chest. The parts of him that aren’t tarry with blood are the same dirt brown as the rest of the debris field; his jumpsuit is stiff with dust. Exposed steel plate glints through the fabric at his shoulder in time with his breath.

A stalactite clot of blood and snot stirs and glistens in the breeze. The wind picks up, and it drops from his nose to his knee with a quiet plap. ]

Rikku >> Chateau Xavier

[sorrycharles]

The combined, cooperative influences of a blood transfusion, a saline drip and space benzos have allowed for Erik’s reintroduction to the wild in recent days. Sightings during daylight hours have been sparse, but it isn’t much of a stretch to suppose he’s sheltering with friends.

It isn’t as if he has to keep a low profile. No one knows what happened, and no one bothers him.

But for someone who is looking, after nightfall, a fire built up near the entrance to Charles Xavier’s tent is the place to start. Erik cuts a distinct figure at a distance, with a patch over his eye and his bandaged right arm, more of a scruffy mess than Rikku remembers. He’s seated on a stool hewn together from canvas and scrap, shaping the blade of a knife from a bar of steel by the firelight.