Marc Spector (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
knightlyperformance) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
revivalproject2022-12-12 12:34 am
knightlyperformance) wrote in revivalproject2022-12-12 12:34 am
In Restless Dreams I Walked Alone
WHO: Marc Spector/Steven Grant & you I guess
WHERE: Edge of Temba, let's say westsiiiide
WHAT: The Moon boys had a narrow escape. Someone help a guy out?
WHEN: Now
WARNINGS: Bloooood
"One more time... From the start..."
"We've gone over it several times already-"
"Again, Steven-" Marc said testily as he continued to trudge along through the snow. In his current state he was quite the picture of bedraggled; several long, bloody furrows clawed across his coat from his left shoulder down past his waist, the right leg of his pants in a similar state though not quite as deep. Blood was smeared across the side of his face, mostly the result of a bad attempt to wipe it from where it had earlier run down from a gash just beside his right temple. His right sleeve was nearly stained in it and practically shredded to boot, his hand practically wearing a glove of caked red although he was sure it wasn't completely all his. His fingers remained locked around an odd, slightly twisting spike of sorts that appeared to have been broken off of something. His other hand clutched an old pocket watch he'd found. Broken it was pretty much useless, but he'd managed to buff the casing to a shine that he could see his reflection, see Steven. He vaguely recalled they had a shovel when they'd left earlier, but hell if he knew where it was now.
On the pocket watch's faint surface, Steven's tongue darted nervously over his lips, his gaze dropping off to one side as his brow nearly pinched in slight frustration. Worry, however, was ever present in regards to Marc's current condition.
"The day started off with a disagreement - you decided it was time to try exploring the territory in this weather and I of course said 'no, we shouldn't go out on our own, we may need a travel buddy if we're going out like this' to which you replied 'No, we'll be fine, we got a plan, let's go' - which isn't much of a plan, mind you - and we went. But our little segue into the wilderness decidedly took a turn for the worse with that giant...feline...beast?" The memory was fresh, yet didn't stick around as long as he had hoped for in retreading their steps, which led him to glance back up at the man who shared his face. "Huge. Could've killed us. Look, mate, we really need to ring for help- "
"...almost...there..." Marc knew he was being stubborn, but at the same time he wasn't sure who all to contact. Most of those he'd spoken with were acquaintances at best, wary about him and reasonably so, he'd admit. He knew he was probably pretty bad off though. Steven was right. Whatever they'd run into could've gotten them killed, probably should have. And then he blacked out, and the next thing he knew they were alone, in a questionable however alive condition.
He knew Steven was still talking, but he'd long since forgotten to tune in. It was getting harder to see. Maybe a lot of that blood was his after all. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and rest for a moment. The pain was nothing new, in a way nostalgic, like an old friend. Or maybe the roommate you never wanted. Usually it faded away by now, but that was back when he still was attached to the hip of an Egyptian god.
The sudden cold briefly brought him to his senses. He squinted against the snow, both comforting and burning against his skin. He was lying face first in the snow and wasn't sure when he'd fallen, but it seemed his body had decided it had had enough. Barely managing to lift his head, he could see the outline of buildings. They'd made it. They were so close. But it was so cold that he wasn't sure if he was moving his arms to try pushing himself up or they just gave up on him. Slowly his eyes closed. Maybe he'd just rest a moment. Just a quick moment...
WHERE: Edge of Temba, let's say westsiiiide
WHAT: The Moon boys had a narrow escape. Someone help a guy out?
WHEN: Now
WARNINGS: Bloooood
"One more time... From the start..."
"We've gone over it several times already-"
"Again, Steven-" Marc said testily as he continued to trudge along through the snow. In his current state he was quite the picture of bedraggled; several long, bloody furrows clawed across his coat from his left shoulder down past his waist, the right leg of his pants in a similar state though not quite as deep. Blood was smeared across the side of his face, mostly the result of a bad attempt to wipe it from where it had earlier run down from a gash just beside his right temple. His right sleeve was nearly stained in it and practically shredded to boot, his hand practically wearing a glove of caked red although he was sure it wasn't completely all his. His fingers remained locked around an odd, slightly twisting spike of sorts that appeared to have been broken off of something. His other hand clutched an old pocket watch he'd found. Broken it was pretty much useless, but he'd managed to buff the casing to a shine that he could see his reflection, see Steven. He vaguely recalled they had a shovel when they'd left earlier, but hell if he knew where it was now.
On the pocket watch's faint surface, Steven's tongue darted nervously over his lips, his gaze dropping off to one side as his brow nearly pinched in slight frustration. Worry, however, was ever present in regards to Marc's current condition.
"The day started off with a disagreement - you decided it was time to try exploring the territory in this weather and I of course said 'no, we shouldn't go out on our own, we may need a travel buddy if we're going out like this' to which you replied 'No, we'll be fine, we got a plan, let's go' - which isn't much of a plan, mind you - and we went. But our little segue into the wilderness decidedly took a turn for the worse with that giant...feline...beast?" The memory was fresh, yet didn't stick around as long as he had hoped for in retreading their steps, which led him to glance back up at the man who shared his face. "Huge. Could've killed us. Look, mate, we really need to ring for help- "
"...almost...there..." Marc knew he was being stubborn, but at the same time he wasn't sure who all to contact. Most of those he'd spoken with were acquaintances at best, wary about him and reasonably so, he'd admit. He knew he was probably pretty bad off though. Steven was right. Whatever they'd run into could've gotten them killed, probably should have. And then he blacked out, and the next thing he knew they were alone, in a questionable however alive condition.
He knew Steven was still talking, but he'd long since forgotten to tune in. It was getting harder to see. Maybe a lot of that blood was his after all. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and rest for a moment. The pain was nothing new, in a way nostalgic, like an old friend. Or maybe the roommate you never wanted. Usually it faded away by now, but that was back when he still was attached to the hip of an Egyptian god.
The sudden cold briefly brought him to his senses. He squinted against the snow, both comforting and burning against his skin. He was lying face first in the snow and wasn't sure when he'd fallen, but it seemed his body had decided it had had enough. Barely managing to lift his head, he could see the outline of buildings. They'd made it. They were so close. But it was so cold that he wasn't sure if he was moving his arms to try pushing himself up or they just gave up on him. Slowly his eyes closed. Maybe he'd just rest a moment. Just a quick moment...
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He took out his communicator and tried to call for help. Would it work this time?
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"I really don't like to just leave you here while I go for help," he frowned. "At least I'll have to try to make some kind of a shelter and work on stopping the bleeding first."
He managed to make a quick lean-to. Stopping the bleeding was proving far more difficult. But he kept trying.
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Marc'sSteven's coat and sleeve was, peeling back the layers took some time. There was no use trying to save the clawed coat anyway, not when the gashes were deep. It also took time for Steven to finally loosen his knuckle-white grip on the spike and the pocket watch as well, leaving faint wet prints behind on both items while Radley worked.His eyes were closed now, but he was still breathing, mumbling to himself in and out of consciousness. "...yes I'm still mad at you...is what I'd say if you were awake..."
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"Okay, I'm going for help, or transportation or something," he said.
He wasn't able to find anyone else nearby, so he had to scrounge up some parts and cobble together some sort of sled that he could use to pull the poor guy along back to town. He returned as quickly as he could with that.
"This is the best I can do for now," he sighed as he tried to gently move Steven onto the sled.
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Time was strange, pushing forward without any warning. He wasn't aware when Radley left or when he returned, having a brief waking moment to see that he was being moved. A whine caught in the back of the man's throat before he stifled a groan, his back coming into contact with the hard surface of the sled. It wasn't much stifled, but the tension slowly disappeared after he sucked in a few harsh breaths.
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He straightened and started pulling the sled, going as gently as he could.
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He kept pulling until at last they made it to the hospital. He prayed help would be there....