[It's probably the first time...ever, really, that Adrian has been so incapacitated that he can't walk. Even when the mushrooms paralyzed him for a while at work, he eventually regained his senses enough to be able to move around on his own, even if it meant practically dragging himself everywhere. This, however, is different. Not only is he wounded and weak from blood loss, but having your energy drained is a feeling he's never experienced before. It's like he's so exhausted it's seeped into his very bones, leaving him limp and useless, but at the very least alive. He's damn lucky that Rosso is as strong as he is, capable of lifting him and carrying him up into a tree when most others would struggle just to sit him up.]
Mmhh....
[Even Adrian knows he's in no position to argue. He lets Rosso carry him, his big head resting on his shoulder, legs nearly dragging the ground, tail actually dragging behind them with a dull clunk, clunk, clunk every time his stinger hits one of the steps on the way.]
[It takes several minutes of struggling to get Adrian inside and laid down, on his non-injured side so that Rosso can actually find the antiseptics they keep around since both of them show up injured so much. He could have brought those outside, but his panic-brain was pretty sure Adrian would bleed out before then. Probably for the best that he closed that wound up when he did.
His arms and legs feel like jelly after that workout, but he forces himself to keep walking just a bit longer. Just enough so that he can get the med kit out and drag it back to bed. Ordinarily, he'd give Adrian a bath, but Rosso doesn't think he can lift the guy into the tub. This isn't like the last time Adrian was injured, where it was light enough to be romantically washed off in their stupid little tub. His boyfriend is fucking dying. Rosso doesn't know if he's stable or not.]
I'm gonna bandage you up.
[He'll talk while he's doing it. Tell Adrian what he's doing — "I'm lifting your arm" — just to give him something to focus on. It helps Rosso to focus, too, because he thinks he's four seconds from a mental breakdown.]
[It's the smarter decision overall. He can bathe at some point, but right now trying to submerge himself probably isn't a good idea when he's on the edge of his body trying to decide if the crisis is big enough to go into shock again or not. So far the answer is "no", mainly because it has kept him in that state for so many hours that if it were to resurface, he would die from exhaustion and not blood loss. Plus, having the relief of knowing that he's home, safe, with someone he trusts that can look after him is...a huge benefit. It means his body can finally let go of some of that fight-or-flight and actually focus on resting.
It's a wonder he never died out in the Badlands back home. He didn't often come home severely injured, but it did happen from time to time if he got on the wrong end of a bandit's knife...and he really just only had himself to fend for. It was tough, and it's a reminder that he can't take what he has right now for granted.
Who he has.
Adrian remains quiet as Rosso works, appreciative of the verbal confirmation of what's happening to him at all times. The futon is soft and warm, but Adrian is fighting to not just close his eyes and fall asleep right then and there. Instead, he focuses on the sound of Rosso's voice, the touch of his hands, the fact that he can feel him nearby even if his eyes aren't open. Every so often, he exhales on a low rumble, to let him know he's still awake. The antiseptic doesn't even burn, and the shifting of his body impacts him little. He feels nothing anymore but laden exhaustion.
After a while of this, though, Adrian does find the words to speak again...not for his benefit, but for Rosso's.]
[Rosso wants to lay on Adrian and also maybe smack him, but the instinct to smack is very, very much muffled by every other screaming emotion. Laying on him would be nice if he weren't so injured. Instead, he merely sits on the floor in front of their futon, then reaches out to card his claws through Adrian's mane, once he's done with bandaging the man up anyway. There are wraps of gauze around his chest, cotton pads underneath against his back... Rosso wonders if maybe they should head to a hospital, but he has no way to make sure Adrian doesn't ragdoll off the back of his bike, and monster hospitals aren't really heard of. A human hospital isn't gonna treat him...
[If Rosso were to suggest- or even demand- a hospital trip, Adrian would refuse it anyway. It's not that he's in the business of dying so much as he figures that if he was going to die, he would have in the woods hours ago. He'd be pissed off if he died now, after all of that. The Crowe Clinic would take care of him, but the only issue is that it's 1) in Bavan and 2) definitely far enough that he'd either fly off Rosso's bike on the way there or just die trying to get there. He'd rather just suffer in the relative comfort of his own home, thanks.
And so here he lays, truly the most pathetic he's ever been, as he focuses on the sensation of Rosso's fingers running through his hair. He's been packed tight with gauze and cotton, and the bleeding has stopped. Assuming he doesn't suffer an infection or just keel over in his sleep, he should be okay. Not entirely out of the woods, perhaps, but...it's good enough.
When Rosso asks that, it's enough to stoke the flames of anger over the indignation of it all that Adrian had felt earlier. Again, his lip curls. He pulls it back to bare his fangs, vicious and bitter.
He hisses out his name, spits it, even though he's not sure Rosso will know it.]
Vash.
[He still barely knows him. Had no quarrel with him. Had suspected he would probably frenzy on some poor human population because he's too soft-hearted. Never in his whole life did he think he'd get caught in the crossfire.
And if Adrian knew better, he wouldn't tell Rosso in more detail who it is. Because he knows...he knows Rosso better than anyone. He will hunt him down.
But right now, Adrian is so pissed off that he's not sure he cares. The guy's a fighter, he proved that much to him in how easily he took Adrian down. Maybe he could use a wake-up call, before he murders half the peninsula in an ongoing rampage.]
Blonde. Stupid...red jacket. [Adrian shifts briefly, as if he's trying to get up, but instead he flops back forward, the claws in his right hand extending and dragging deep furrows into the wood floor beside the futon.] Fucker frenzied on me.
Rosso has to remind himself to get a grip on his flames again before they cook Adrian alive. At this rate, he thinks they might burn so hot that they'll roast his boyfriend through the fire immunity. His fur was bad enough as it was. He breathes deep, a shuddering breath, and feels the fire within him condense into a tightly-wound ball.
In the end, the tips of his horns bloom with that bright crimson, but Rosso makes no move to try to put them out. There, they can't hurt anybody... so it's fine. It's fine if he burns a little.]
Oh, I know the fucker. I came to his rescue when he was trapped in the trick mansion up north.
["He frenzied" should be a sign, to Rosso. He didn't mean it, it wasn't out of malice. Ainen Rosso does not think in greys when it comes to Adrian; he thinks in black and white. Hurting Adrian is a pitch-black void, to him. There's no way to atone for it, not now, when Rosso's too enraged to see anything other than shades of red.
Red jacket. Should be easy to hunt down; Rosso isn't a werewolf right now, so he can't sniff the guy out... but he thinks he knows how he'll rout Vash out. There are methods he can utilize. None of them are good. They make Rosso the "black" that he so despises right now, but Rosso has always been of the opinion that war begets casualties. And oh, how this is a war now.]
[That gets Adrian to bark out an incredulous, tired sounding laugh. He wishes he hadn't afterwards, because it hurts. He's not sure if it's just a coincidence, or a cosmic joke...but in times like these, you almost have to laugh.]
Did you, now...
[And now...Vash's savior is going to kill him. Or, at the very least, make him regret making Adrian a target.
He doesn't know exactly what Rosso might do. He can only make an educated guess, judging by how brightly his horns burn. How very obvious it is he is holding his fire back, to prevent from engulfing them both in his rage. ...Adrian is actually proud of him for at least managing to hold it back, against all odds. He's not sure he would have been able to do it, before.
Adrian watches Rosso burn next to him, a barely contained inferno, and it prompts him to use what little strength he has to reach out his paw to rest overtop Rosso's hand. He doesn't particularly care if he gets burnt, but fortunately his immunity seems to be intact. He feels warmth, but no searing heat. It's what keeps him there, his fingers curving over Rosso's.]
Tch. Is that you telling me I'm good to go cut someone to ribbons? Save it. I'm gonna wait until I know you won't be dead when I come back.
["I'm still here", he says, but Rosso isn't so trusting. He needs to make sure Adrian actually gets to sleep, that his breathing isn't stuttered and wheezy, and that he won't choke on his spit or blood or anything of the sort. Rosso's vengeance can wait until he's sure, even if it has to be a few days.
He's fairly confident he can find Vash in that time. This isn't like Mary, who disappeared soon after killing the both of them, leaving no room for vengeance to be wrought — or attempted a second time, in Adrian's case. No, no, Rosso is relying on pure luck of the draw here, that and his wildly overconfident perspectives on his ability to slaughter people.
Then again, that arrogance is what got him killed in the first place, but he's not really considering that, nor is he weighing the pros and cons, nor is he doing anything other than stroking Adrian's fur lovingly while promising death and destruction at a later date.]
[But. He wasn't going to tell him NOT to, either. He just has to trust that Rosso knows better than to go out there and get himself killed. Vash...could still be frenzying, he has no idea. And if that's true...then Rosso could be in some real danger if he isn't careful.
Then again, Adrian knows that half of the reason Vash got him is because he was so reluctant to use his fire in the middle of the woods. If he were to really cut-loose, he could have set all of Lager on fire...and what if it spread to home? Beyond? Maybe one of the first times he's not been selfish in a moment like that, but there's always a first for everything. Then, as soon as he got his hands on his wing....
Well. He really, really doesn't want to think about that right now, so he won't. He'll let the nightmares do their thing all on their own.
But, right. Being alive. He can do that much, he thinks. His tail curves against Rosso's side, figners kneading against his skin a bit reflexively until his eyes fall closed again. He can feel a heavy blanket finally trying its level-best to settle over him, and he's worried it will if he doesn't keep talking.]
M....tired.
[He is so fucking tired. Having your energy drained leaves you feeling weak like no other, he really can't explain it. Like that whole-body exhaustion when you go swimming, but pretend he went swimming in pudding or quicksand instead.]
Get some rest then, aegiya. Nothing's going to get you while I'm here.
[If Vash somehow decided to turn up at the house... well, that would make Rosso's job a lot easier. He's not banking on it, though; he'd rather Vash have no idea where they live if he's acting how he's acting.
Rosso's going to sit here and stroke Adrian's mane until he falls asleep, and listen closely to his breathing. He has to make sure the guy isn't going to suffocate, that there's no blood in his lungs where it shouldn't be... not that he'd know how to get said blood out anyway. He can't expect Adrian to stay awake after all of that — he'll have to sleep some time — but Rosso hopes sleep won't yield death still.
Alisha, meanwhile, trots out of the knot-hole in the tree that she likes so much and curls up on the pillow nearby. She will watch over him.]
[It's like Adrian's body needed the confirmation to rest. The assurance that he wasn't going to just die, or be killed in his sleep, if he drifted off. He hardly manages another few minutes awake, passing out so hard that even a bomb dropping onto the treehouse likely wouldn't be enough to rouse him.
But he's alive. It's clear by the way his chest steadily rises and falls that he's still breathing, and the chance to properly rest will give him the chance to recover. It will take a while...a long while. But recover he will, eventually.]
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flammadecinis) wrote2022-05-15 03:26 pm
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Mmhh....
[Even Adrian knows he's in no position to argue. He lets Rosso carry him, his big head resting on his shoulder, legs nearly dragging the ground, tail actually dragging behind them with a dull clunk, clunk, clunk every time his stinger hits one of the steps on the way.]
no subject
His arms and legs feel like jelly after that workout, but he forces himself to keep walking just a bit longer. Just enough so that he can get the med kit out and drag it back to bed. Ordinarily, he'd give Adrian a bath, but Rosso doesn't think he can lift the guy into the tub. This isn't like the last time Adrian was injured, where it was light enough to be romantically washed off in their stupid little tub. His boyfriend is fucking dying. Rosso doesn't know if he's stable or not.]
I'm gonna bandage you up.
[He'll talk while he's doing it. Tell Adrian what he's doing — "I'm lifting your arm" — just to give him something to focus on. It helps Rosso to focus, too, because he thinks he's four seconds from a mental breakdown.]
no subject
It's a wonder he never died out in the Badlands back home. He didn't often come home severely injured, but it did happen from time to time if he got on the wrong end of a bandit's knife...and he really just only had himself to fend for. It was tough, and it's a reminder that he can't take what he has right now for granted.
Who he has.
Adrian remains quiet as Rosso works, appreciative of the verbal confirmation of what's happening to him at all times. The futon is soft and warm, but Adrian is fighting to not just close his eyes and fall asleep right then and there. Instead, he focuses on the sound of Rosso's voice, the touch of his hands, the fact that he can feel him nearby even if his eyes aren't open. Every so often, he exhales on a low rumble, to let him know he's still awake. The antiseptic doesn't even burn, and the shifting of his body impacts him little. He feels nothing anymore but laden exhaustion.
After a while of this, though, Adrian does find the words to speak again...not for his benefit, but for Rosso's.]
...sorry for scarin' you.
no subject
[Rosso wants to lay on Adrian and also maybe smack him, but the instinct to smack is very, very much muffled by every other screaming emotion. Laying on him would be nice if he weren't so injured. Instead, he merely sits on the floor in front of their futon, then reaches out to card his claws through Adrian's mane, once he's done with bandaging the man up anyway. There are wraps of gauze around his chest, cotton pads underneath against his back... Rosso wonders if maybe they should head to a hospital, but he has no way to make sure Adrian doesn't ragdoll off the back of his bike, and monster hospitals aren't really heard of. A human hospital isn't gonna treat him...
He glowers at the floor.]
You wanna tell me who or what got you?
no subject
And so here he lays, truly the most pathetic he's ever been, as he focuses on the sensation of Rosso's fingers running through his hair. He's been packed tight with gauze and cotton, and the bleeding has stopped. Assuming he doesn't suffer an infection or just keel over in his sleep, he should be okay. Not entirely out of the woods, perhaps, but...it's good enough.
When Rosso asks that, it's enough to stoke the flames of anger over the indignation of it all that Adrian had felt earlier. Again, his lip curls. He pulls it back to bare his fangs, vicious and bitter.
He hisses out his name, spits it, even though he's not sure Rosso will know it.]
Vash.
[He still barely knows him. Had no quarrel with him. Had suspected he would probably frenzy on some poor human population because he's too soft-hearted. Never in his whole life did he think he'd get caught in the crossfire.
And if Adrian knew better, he wouldn't tell Rosso in more detail who it is. Because he knows...he knows Rosso better than anyone. He will hunt him down.
But right now, Adrian is so pissed off that he's not sure he cares. The guy's a fighter, he proved that much to him in how easily he took Adrian down. Maybe he could use a wake-up call, before he murders half the peninsula in an ongoing rampage.]
Blonde. Stupid...red jacket. [Adrian shifts briefly, as if he's trying to get up, but instead he flops back forward, the claws in his right hand extending and dragging deep furrows into the wood floor beside the futon.] Fucker frenzied on me.
no subject
Rosso has to remind himself to get a grip on his flames again before they cook Adrian alive. At this rate, he thinks they might burn so hot that they'll roast his boyfriend through the fire immunity. His fur was bad enough as it was. He breathes deep, a shuddering breath, and feels the fire within him condense into a tightly-wound ball.
In the end, the tips of his horns bloom with that bright crimson, but Rosso makes no move to try to put them out. There, they can't hurt anybody... so it's fine. It's fine if he burns a little.]
Oh, I know the fucker. I came to his rescue when he was trapped in the trick mansion up north.
["He frenzied" should be a sign, to Rosso. He didn't mean it, it wasn't out of malice. Ainen Rosso does not think in greys when it comes to Adrian; he thinks in black and white. Hurting Adrian is a pitch-black void, to him. There's no way to atone for it, not now, when Rosso's too enraged to see anything other than shades of red.
Red jacket. Should be easy to hunt down; Rosso isn't a werewolf right now, so he can't sniff the guy out... but he thinks he knows how he'll rout Vash out. There are methods he can utilize. None of them are good. They make Rosso the "black" that he so despises right now, but Rosso has always been of the opinion that war begets casualties. And oh, how this is a war now.]
no subject
Did you, now...
[And now...Vash's savior is going to kill him. Or, at the very least, make him regret making Adrian a target.
He doesn't know exactly what Rosso might do. He can only make an educated guess, judging by how brightly his horns burn. How very obvious it is he is holding his fire back, to prevent from engulfing them both in his rage. ...Adrian is actually proud of him for at least managing to hold it back, against all odds. He's not sure he would have been able to do it, before.
Adrian watches Rosso burn next to him, a barely contained inferno, and it prompts him to use what little strength he has to reach out his paw to rest overtop Rosso's hand. He doesn't particularly care if he gets burnt, but fortunately his immunity seems to be intact. He feels warmth, but no searing heat. It's what keeps him there, his fingers curving over Rosso's.]
Jagi. I ain't goin' nowhere. M'still here.
[Barely. But he's here.]
no subject
["I'm still here", he says, but Rosso isn't so trusting. He needs to make sure Adrian actually gets to sleep, that his breathing isn't stuttered and wheezy, and that he won't choke on his spit or blood or anything of the sort. Rosso's vengeance can wait until he's sure, even if it has to be a few days.
He's fairly confident he can find Vash in that time. This isn't like Mary, who disappeared soon after killing the both of them, leaving no room for vengeance to be wrought — or attempted a second time, in Adrian's case. No, no, Rosso is relying on pure luck of the draw here, that and his wildly overconfident perspectives on his ability to slaughter people.
Then again, that arrogance is what got him killed in the first place, but he's not really considering that, nor is he weighing the pros and cons, nor is he doing anything other than stroking Adrian's fur lovingly while promising death and destruction at a later date.]
You focus on being alive first.
no subject
[But. He wasn't going to tell him NOT to, either. He just has to trust that Rosso knows better than to go out there and get himself killed. Vash...could still be frenzying, he has no idea. And if that's true...then Rosso could be in some real danger if he isn't careful.
Then again, Adrian knows that half of the reason Vash got him is because he was so reluctant to use his fire in the middle of the woods. If he were to really cut-loose, he could have set all of Lager on fire...and what if it spread to home? Beyond? Maybe one of the first times he's not been selfish in a moment like that, but there's always a first for everything. Then, as soon as he got his hands on his wing....
Well. He really, really doesn't want to think about that right now, so he won't. He'll let the nightmares do their thing all on their own.
But, right. Being alive. He can do that much, he thinks. His tail curves against Rosso's side, figners kneading against his skin a bit reflexively until his eyes fall closed again. He can feel a heavy blanket finally trying its level-best to settle over him, and he's worried it will if he doesn't keep talking.]
M....tired.
[He is so fucking tired. Having your energy drained leaves you feeling weak like no other, he really can't explain it. Like that whole-body exhaustion when you go swimming, but pretend he went swimming in pudding or quicksand instead.]
no subject
[If Vash somehow decided to turn up at the house... well, that would make Rosso's job a lot easier. He's not banking on it, though; he'd rather Vash have no idea where they live if he's acting how he's acting.
Rosso's going to sit here and stroke Adrian's mane until he falls asleep, and listen closely to his breathing. He has to make sure the guy isn't going to suffocate, that there's no blood in his lungs where it shouldn't be... not that he'd know how to get said blood out anyway. He can't expect Adrian to stay awake after all of that — he'll have to sleep some time — but Rosso hopes sleep won't yield death still.
Alisha, meanwhile, trots out of the knot-hole in the tree that she likes so much and curls up on the pillow nearby. She will watch over him.]
/wrap
But he's alive. It's clear by the way his chest steadily rises and falls that he's still breathing, and the chance to properly rest will give him the chance to recover. It will take a while...a long while. But recover he will, eventually.]