[M] The Tooth Fairy

p. Clover

POSTED: Thu Jul 18, 2019 8:45 pm

WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.


12
all is rusted now and falling apart

She opened her eyes and she saw clouds.

Soft, wispy bodies floating gently on a summer breeze. It was beautiful, she felt warm, happy, and went to close her eyes again to keep sleeping.

But there were flies, why were there flies in her eyes? They were biting, buzzing, she reached up to swat them away.

That’s when the pain started, agonizing, pulsing pain, like someone was squeezing her skull close to cracking. Twelve groaned and tried to sit up, only to have her stomach lurch from the motion. The world around her spun, and she placed a hand on her throbbing head. Her hair was matted and wet, sticky, she pulled her paw away to only see that it was stained red with her own blood.

Then, she heard the sound of huffing, and looked up to see Wynona standing above her, looking down at her with doe like eyes. What the hell had happened? Wait… it was coming back to her.

Twelve had been training with Wynona in the ring, they had been progressing well, and she had felt it was time to test to see if the horse would allow her to mount. Twelve had been working through motions with her, placing her hands on the mare’s backside and then swinging a leg over, and then back down, over and over, to get the horse used to the idea of Twelve’s motion. After doing that for a good long time, Twelve finally attempted to pull herself up and Wynona bolted. Twelve had fallen off the wooden block she had been using, and… Wynona had kicked her.

Oh God… Twelve said, watching as blood dripped black into the dust in front of her, Oh… shit… she hissed, and realized there was blood also in her mouth, and something… hard. She spat, and out popped a bit of tooth.

A head injury was the last thing she needed right now, she had seen Luperci die from them, even after they had seemed to recover. A swelling of the brain she had been told. Whelp, this was most likely the end for her, how fitting, to be kicked in the head by a horse that had once belonged to wolves.

Slowly, she got to her feet, and immediately saw stars and had vertigo. She wobbled and then steadied herself against the nearest solid object, which just so happened to be Wynona. The mare took her weight, and even reached to nibble at Twelve’s shoulder, You didn’t mean it… you didn’t mean it. She said, knowing full well that the mare had just been frightened and had kicked her accidentally as she had fallen.

Twelve began to walk, her arm slung around the horse’s neck. She managed to open the paddock enough for the two of them to slip out. Wynona could easily run at this point, and escape the coyote woman, but she did not. The odd pair just walked slowly together into Charmington. They had to find help.

(+5) ooc goes here
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Luperci Gaucho Venerate savagery, Die savagely

POSTED: Sat Aug 03, 2019 10:21 am

She preferred the woods and wildlands to towns like this, which in their deteriorated state of cracked asphalt and rusted metal reminded her unpleasantly of the junkyard where she'd been born. But Charmingtown wasn't too bad; mostly overgrown with weeds, its buildings empty shells half-exposed to the elements, it didn't inspire the same claustrophobia or cringing as the Concrete Jungle. Her feet wandered on dusty paths, and she looked around at the buildings under primitive renovation, useless garbage and hazards like rusted objects piled outside to clear the way for living space. No, they were doing some good here.

Caught up in her exploration, Clover wasn't as alert as she should have been. She was peeking under a fallen metal awning when the plod of horse hooves turned her head, and then she saw the scarred grey coywolf braced against its shoulder. The dog pricked her ears, then spotted the dried blood matted into her hair. An instant connected this fresh injury to the mare and Twelve's wobble.

Oh shit, said Clover.

Her first thought: Twelve was a dead woman walking. Her second thought was a series of instructions, a memory from Harosheth's lecturing, and Clover walked forward with her hands raised and her expression tense.

Sit down. Hey, sit the fuck down, she woofed in case Twelve would protest. Don't move. Look at me. Can you hear me? Tell me what happened.

She could feel herself shaking, but she moved forward and crouched to eye level trying to remember everything her old mentor had taught her. Her eyes, she needed to check her eyes, though Clover couldn't remember what the fuck else to do. Was there a point in asking questions? She could see if she was getting worse, but if Twelve got worse than this...

Keep your head still.

Clover bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted iron. She made compresses and treated colds; she wasn't a head-stitcher.

Compress—something cold for the swelling. Pain—Twelve had to be in a lot. Her own eyes darting with thought, she took a breath. She had stuff for some of this, and it wasn't stored too far away, but first she needed to make sure Twelve was stable. Even if Clover couldn't do anything about it, she didn't want to leave her alone.

[WC: 385]

I can feel the thunder that's breaking in your heart
I can see through the scars inside you
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oderint dum metuant You have to love yourself a fire
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unconditional loyalty

POSTED: Wed Aug 14, 2019 11:42 am

12
all is rusted now and falling apart

As she walked, she tried to take mental note of if she had any other injuries beside her head, even though that in itself was making everything much more difficult. From time to time she had to spit blood from her mouth, and quickly her vision was blurred by blood running into one of her eyes; she must look quite a sight, clutching to a horse and blinded by her own viscera.

Suddenly it all seemed quite hilarious to her and she grinned and then laughed; well, if she went at least she’d go with a smile on her face.

Then, someone else was there, and Twelve’s mood swiftly changed from amusement to abhorrent fear, Help me, help me! She heard herself saying pitifully, and then realized it was Big Bitch here to be her savior.

Could she save her though? The sound of the dog’s voice did not give Twelve much confidence. Still, she did as she was told and sat into the dust, letting go of Wynona who walked a ways away but did not leave entirely. Now that her hands were free, she tried to clear her eyes of blood and move her matted fur out of her face. She tried her best to look up at Clover, but everything was blurry and she couldn’t tell if it was from the blood or from the injury, I can hear you. I fucked up and Wynona kicked me. Shit…. She said as her thin fingers touched her scalp tenderly; it was wet and swollen and hurt like a bitch. Clover ordered her to keep her head still, and she tried, but had the sudden urge to vomit, which she did. The bile mixed with blood stained the earth a horrid color, Fuuuuccck…. She hissed, trying to sit up again, I’m going to fucking die aren’t I? She seemed to be asking herself more than Clover.

(+2) ooc goes here
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Luperci Gaucho Venerate savagery, Die savagely

POSTED: Sun Sep 01, 2019 7:28 pm

Hearing the woman cry for help terrified Clover more than the blood streaming from her gashed head. She must have been through far worse; her scars hinted at so many terrible stories, and she didn't seem like the type to show her fear. No, this was serious, and even as Twelve settled in the dirt and answered her, Clover had the same thoughts as the coymutt: she was going to fucking die.

She clenched her teeth and tried to hold out for hope.

You're awake and your brain isn't leaking out, the dog said flatly, adopting her old mentor's bedside manner: not unduly harsh, but not overly gentle, either. I can stop the bleeding and swelling. Don't move, she repeated, wrinkling her nose at the scent of vomit, astringent and ominous.

She didn't know what to do. Her breath came on fast, but she tried to keep calm for Twelve's sake. She needed someone else; her bark was loud but brief as she rose again and turned to survey the city.

Someone answered her call, but not necessarily who she expected; she half thought that Briarblack or John would run out to her. Instead, she spotted a dark shape shambling from behind a pale cloth flapping in the wind, a blanket put up to dry. Resurrection – a former Infernian and familiar enough to Clover – stared at the scene then heaved a sigh that moved his narrow shoulders. When he came closer, he reached out, long sleeves falling back from his bony hands.

Can you keep her still for a minute? I gotta get my shit, Clover said.

I cannot physically restrain her, but I'll do my best, came the gentle, wry answer as the nearly-skeletal coyote stared at Twelve. He promptly sat down in front of her, pressing his muzzle to his sleeve to stifle a cough, then spoke quietly to the woman, his voice calm – perhaps the best man for the job, Clover thought. You'll be just fine, sister. Clover has helped me with ailments in the past.

Ailment and injury were not quite the same, but Clover couldn't afford to fret or give up. She rushed to where her herbs were stored, cursing at the amount of useless plants whose leaves had yet to dry. But she did have peat moss and an excess of yarrow, and a tightly-woven basket that might hold enough cold water for the trip back. Gathering her things, she prayed – though she didn't know who to, because she didn't believe in Resurrection and Cartier's god.

She could pray to real things, like flame. She prayed to the water not to drip, to the herbs in her hands, to the ash dusting her feet to grant her speed.

Terrified that she would find Twelve dead when she returned, she exhaled in relief to see that Res, still sitting cross-legged and prim beside her, was still talking: idly engaging her in conversation about the horse and how lovely Wynona was. He glanced up first when Clover approached.

I'm gonna wash your wound, Clover explained. I'll put a poultice on it. Yarrow helps heal, and the dried moss soaks stuff up better 'n a bandage.

She tipped the water out, watching blood and dirt and debris trail down Twelve's muzzle, glad for a lack of grey matter swirling with it.

[WC: 573]

I can feel the thunder that's breaking in your heart
I can see through the scars inside you
Del Cenere Gang
El Probado
User avatar
Raze
oderint dum metuant You have to love yourself a fire
cave canem
unconditional loyalty

POSTED: Mon Sep 02, 2019 5:58 pm

12
all is rusted now and falling apart

Clover assured her just enough to help her not just give up then and there. What a comfort it was to know one’s brain was not leaking from one’s skull, terrific. Twelve, despite this, felt tired and all she suddenly wanted to do was sleep. But she was awake, awake was good, she had to stay awake.

The next few moments were a blur, Big Bitch called out for help, and then was gone. In her stead, a skinny-ass figure appeared instead, dark as death and with no bedside manner. Twelve grinned at him, or at least, she thought she did; she was no longer aware of the shape her face made. It was Resurrection, if she recalled his name correctly; her half-lidded eyes found a familiar icon attached to his neck; a rosary. Ah, a man of the cloth. She said, and gently reached up to touch the crucifix, Tell me, will you pray for this sinner’s soul? And then she laughed, though it hurt too much to laugh, and she became silent.

He began to talk to her in his dry way, and she was only half-way listening as he spoke of the horse, and how beautiful she was, and how well Twelve was working with her. All fake-ass words, but meant to keep her conscious, and so she remained conscious. She didn’t want to die, she realized, not now. This was not what would end Twelve.

Suddenly Clover was back, and Twelve looked up at her though she didn’t really see, and listened though she really didn’t hear. Suddenly cold, horribly wet water was poured on her head; she made a terrible sound and lurched against Resurrections grip. Twelve bent forward and heaved again but nothing was procured; all she saw was blood mixing with dirt and water at her feet.

(+2) ooc goes here
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Luperci Gaucho Venerate savagery, Die savagely

POSTED: Fri Sep 06, 2019 9:59 am

Twelve lurched, and Resurrection – who'd been smiling at her, aware of her teasing but choosing to be earnest anyway; Of course I will pray for you, he'd said tenderly – lost his easygoing expression. His maroon eyes narrowed in focus, and he seemed very careful to keep his hands inside the long sleeves, and Clover thought a few years ago he might have vomited too.

But nothing came out when Twelve retched, only foamy spit, which promptly turned pink as it swirled with the water running off her skull. Clover made a low whine in her throat by apology, but she was already working on the poultice, chewing the yarrow to a paste and spreading out the dried moss.

Sorry, sorry. Okay. I'm gonna touch your head. She was amazed that her hands weren't shaking as she laid the dressing against the wound, which was smaller than it had seemed amid all the blood and dirt. Applying the poultice with ginger fingers, she occasionally glanced into Twelve's eyes – knowing she was far-off, dazed, but trying to tell whether she was getting worse.

The blood soaked into the sphagnum moss, more absorbant than any cloth Clover had worked with. It didn't need to be changed as often, though that was something they might not have the luxury to enjoy. If Twelve fell asleep and didn't wake back, up, well –

We'll rest here a minute, a'ight? Clover tried to smile, laying her hand gently on Twelve's forearm. Then I'll get you something for pain.

Softly: You still with me, Twelve?

[WC: 269]

I can feel the thunder that's breaking in your heart
I can see through the scars inside you
Del Cenere Gang
El Probado
User avatar
Raze
oderint dum metuant You have to love yourself a fire
cave canem
unconditional loyalty

POSTED: Sun Sep 15, 2019 6:07 pm

12
all is rusted now and falling apart

When Resurrection spoke, she suddenly became very sad. Twelve hadn’t had anyone pray for her as long as she could remember, at least in no earnest way. This must truly be the end, for if he called out to God for her soul, that meant the Heavenly Father might just put his eyes on her once again, and if he did, she was sure hell-fire would consume her right then and there.

After she threw-up a whole bunch of nothing Clover apologetically let her know she would be touching Twelve’s head. The scarred woman chose to just surrender to whatever happened to her from that point on, no use fighting, unless it was only to cling to life. Something was placed onto her wound, but everything was pulsating so much she could barely feel it. What she did feel, was a sudden chill.

Twelve wrapped her hands around her skinny arms, and shook, just as Clover suggested they rest, Yeah…. Twelve thought she said, but she wasn’t sure. Everything was swimming in her vision, everything was blurry and dark. All she wanted to do was just sleep. Or was she already asleep? She couldn’t tell the difference between reality and a dream… or a nightmare.

Clover’s soft voice barely made it into Twelves brain, Ungh… She tried to make some kind of sound to her pack-mate to let her know she was still alive, but Twelve was not sure she even was still alive. No, she had to fight, she had to keep awake.

She moved her jaw and bit the inside of her cheek; the pain caused her to come back to the present, I’m fucked up, Clover. She heard herself mumble.

(+2) ooc goes here
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Luperci Gaucho Venerate savagery, Die savagely

POSTED: Tue Sep 24, 2019 10:04 am

After the chaos, the urgent movement and the unsightly pain, things began to settle into something quiet and still – but for the tremble that passed through Twelve's skinny, scarred body. She merely grunted in response to Clover's question, which was fine enough, she thought. Injuries needed rest, but when could she be allowed to sleep?

Clover wished Harosheth were still here. She wish she had answers.

Doing a little more than wishing, Resurrection continued to pray in silence, utterly unmoving but for the rise and fall of his own narrow chest. He opened one wine-red eye to check on the women, but said nothing: it was not his place. He was doing all that he could right now, appealing to a greater power.

You're what? Clover woofed when the female mumbled, but her brain snapped back over the words, and she exhaled. She didn't notice that Twelve had said her name rather than one of her crass monikers. Yeah, we're all fucked up. I think that's the reason most of us are even here.

When Twelve didn't flinch at her arm being touched, she rubbed the fur there gently, reassuringly. Let's give it a few more minutes then we'll try walking. All she could think to do now was treat the pain; everything else was beyond her. She wanted to apologize for being a shitty healer, or ask if there was someone competent among the Ashen, but she didn't want to scare Twelve more.

[WC: 255]

I can feel the thunder that's breaking in your heart
I can see through the scars inside you
Del Cenere Gang
El Probado
User avatar
Raze
oderint dum metuant You have to love yourself a fire
cave canem
unconditional loyalty

POSTED: Mon Oct 07, 2019 5:44 pm

12
all is rusted now and falling apart

At Clover’s words about them all being fucked up, she managed a snort of a laugh, though it caused her a stab of pain behind her eye, Truth. Was all she managed to say.

The next few moments were strange for Twelve; she didn’t feel like she was going to pass out anymore which was a good thing, but her whole body felt… detached somehow, like her brain wasn’t with the rest of her. Still, she was acutely aware of the pain and the strange tingling sensation in her limbs.

Sitting there in the presence of Clover and Resurrection though had some kind of calming effect; she wasn’t alone, she wouldn’t be alone, if these were her final moments. But there was no sobbing, no wailing, not even a real sense of loss would be felt by the two if Twelve died, and that in itself was a comfort.

After a few moments, the thrumming in her brain lessened slightly, I think I’d like to try to stand now. She said, her voice sounding a little bit more normal. If she managed to stand, maybe Clover could help her somewhere safe were she could rest.

(+0) Feel free to close at your leisure
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Luperci Gaucho Venerate savagery, Die savagely

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