#THREADS.

[mwrjorie]

starter fechado com @elecnora

emoji: ⛈️

a guarda acreditava que encontrar algumas respostas deixaria sua mente tão controlável quanto antes, mas o efeito que surtiu foi exatamente o contrário. apesar do clima não ter mudado com eleonora, suas questões se multiplicaram e seus pensamentos inadequados também. sentia cada vez mais dificuldade em disfarçá-los ou aprisioná-los no fundo de sua cabeça, precisando de mais trabalho para fugir disso. a sugestão de saírem do castelo veio da própria marjorie, uma visita na cidade. um tanto arriscado, mas já havia conversado com outros guardas para acompanharem-nas e aumentar a segurança. só esqueceu de conferir a previsão do tempo, o próprio céu dando a notícia de que seria impossível sair dali. "por deus..." murmurou ao parar na frente da janela, notando o céu cinza escuro, anunciando a chuva que cairia a qualquer momento. "nora... acredito que seja melhor cancelarmos nossos planos."

[xluciifer]

ＰＬＯＴＴＥＤ ＴＨＲＥＡＤＳ

[ organized by urls ; check reblogs for reply. ]

Note: After a month without a reply back, I drop the thread; however, plots important to Lucifer's lore and story will remain regardless. Can always check for your URL on my blog for any old threads if you want to pick it back up again! I just do this to not overwhelm myself.

-> @arachnaemboss ;; speaking in tongues. || × need to reply.

-> @bloodczar ;; unnamed. || × need to reply.

-> @cardedsoul ;; flashing lights and radio nights. || ✓ replied.

-> @chthonicrage ;; stasis bound worry. || ✓ replied.

-> @crimsiin ;; hidden dealings. || ✓ replied.

-> @cxncrie ;; Satan's son's pet. || × need to reply.

-> @deadcmd ;; angelic security: chastity. || ✓ replied.

-> @fizzarollitm ;; familiar jester. || ✓ replied.

-> @gethellbcnt ;; just a drink. || ✓ replied.

-> @hclluvahctel ;; a rigged hand. || ✓ replied.

-> @hellsbroadcaster ;; a once peaceful night. || ✓ replied.

-> @holoharbinger ;; a tempting offer. || ✓ replied.

-> @hazb1nh0tels ;; first successful creation. || ✓ replied.

-> @jizzlords ;; more than meets the eye. || ✓ replied.

-> @k1ttyb0t ;; the start of something. || ✓ replied.

-> @killercmd ;; angelic security: temperance. || ✓ replied.

-> @lilitophidian ;; toxic leash of love. || × need to reply.

// // Lilith ;; a bloody 7 year wait. || ✓ replied.

-> @pompedia ;; an estranged relationship. || ✓ replied.

-> @pridefell ;; the past's a heavy burden. || × need to reply.

-> @psyclots ;; sold my soul to the devil. || ✓ replied.

-> @r-adio ;; the devil's clothes. || ✓ replied.

// // Alastor ;; second time's a charm. || ✓ replied.

-> @radioiaci ;; an overlord's secrets. || ✓ replied.

-> @rejec ;; innocent teasing. || × need to reply.

-> @rockange ;; made in His image. || ✓ replied.

-> @sainticidal ;; brothers of God. || ✓ replied.

-> @spiderslvts ;; caught in a spider's web. || ✓ replied.

-> @therealricksanchezpleasestandup ;; another excounter. || ✓ replied.

-> @televanghell ;; should've thought twice. || ✓ replied.

-> @unholi ;; a personal bodyguard. || ✓ replied.

-> @veneror ;; the lamb and the serpent. || ✓ replied.

-> @videoaux ;; look in a mirror. || ✓ replied.

-> @voxistem ;; hell's tank. || ✓ replied.

\\ \\ Vox ;; talk of the town. || ✓ replied.

\\ \\ Vox ;; craved temptations of his holy grace. || ✓ replied.

-> @voxxisms ;; unnamed. || ✓ replied.

-> @waywardsculs ;; wrong number who dis. || × need to reply.

-> @wonderful-balan ;; the greatest showman. || × need to reply.

* . * . *

-> @infernal-feminae / @arachnaemboss ;; event: a star is reborn. || Zestial's turn.

* . * . *

ＮＯＮ-ＰＬＯＴＴＥＤ ＴＨＲＥＡＤＳ

[ NEXT. -> ]

* . * . *

ＦＩＮＩＳＨＥＤ ＴＨＲＥＡＤＳ

Rick ;; Intergalactic Secrets.

[ THREAD COUNT] - 58

Updated -> 04.26.2024

[giselle-clarke]

booze cruise 🚢

closed starter: @limalatina & @wmu-giselle date: march 23rd, 2024

Giselle hadn't woken up with plans for her final full day in paradise, but she knew she'd wanted to explore a little bit more, maybe snap a few more pictures, and at least try to be sober for half of the day at most. She'd barely ventured too far from the bungalows when she bumped right into her ex, and although slightly awkward at first, they'd agreed that the chance encounter was the perfect time for them to go and thank Mariana for the painting. By the grace of lesbian Jesus, they managed to put all of their drama aside for the time being and the trip to visit Mariana turned out to be enjoyable. All of Mariana's paintings were beautiful, and she'd even ended up purchasing two more to go along with the one Santana had gotten her. She'd found herself attempting to decipher what Santana and Mariana were saying as they spoke, picking up on a few words here and there but not quite piecing together what exactly they were talking about. Giselle made a mental note to ask Santana about it later, though she was positive the Latina wasn't going to tell her or would make something up, but she'd try it anyways.

The rest of the day went just as smoothly, for some odd reason. Since they hadn't spent any time together the entire trip, they had mutually agreed to keep up the momentum. It was a plus for her since Santana could translate everything, so she let the brunette lead the way as they did some sightseeing on Isla Holbox, grabbed lunch, and even did some more shopping before they'd headed back to the hut. Soon after arriving back, Giselle had been instructed to get appropriately dressed for dinner and to grab a sweater, and while she had an abundance of questions, she decided not to fight it as she quickly freshened up and changed into the thin strapped, low cut, little black dress that she'd packed in case of a certain emergency, and this fit the bill. She'd made time to touch up her make up and her hair before she was slipping on a pair of red heels and following Santana out. As usual, she asked a plethora of questions as she was led to whatever her ex had planned, and her jaw dropped once they arrived at a boat, which was apparently where they'd be having dinner for the night.

"After what you said the other day, I wouldn't have expected you to do all this just for me." Giselle stated once they were settled on the boat. After their little run in days ago, she'd spent the time since processing all of her feelings, attempting to get her head and her heart on the same page, and although she felt like she was there, it didn't settle her nerves much. But she couldn't keep putting it off, that much she was aware of, so she figured they should at least try to get...further than they were now. "Before I start drinking, I do want you to know that I did actually listen to everything you said then too. I have been pushing you away, but not because I don't love you or want to be with you. While you were in therapy working on yourself, I spent the past three years detaching from everything about us, and you, because it hurt less that way. Reopening that door scares the hell out of me, and I've been fighting it since I got back to Lima, but I know that's not fair to you. I also know that we're not going to fix all of our issues in one night, but we can start tonight, if you want to."

[greengideon]

starter: open @aurorabaystarter location: seaside hotel, new year's eve

"I can't say that I have the most fancy palette, but I'm really on board with what they're serving here. Only problem is is that you gotta snag a whole tray to even halfway satisfy your hunger," Gideon observes, offering his tiny cocktail plate to the other.

"You tried these stuffed mushroom caps yet?"

[princesaginny]

onde: tanto faz.... com: você!

"gente..." as palavras não foram direcionadas para ninguém em específico, era mais como se ela estivesse colocando um pensamento aleatório em palavras. "se vocês não tem celular aqui, o que vocês fazem quando tão com a autoestima meio abalada e querem validação da sua aparência dada por feios que você jamais daria bola nenhuma?" fanziu as sobrancelhas pensando em uma noite até relativamente comum de um sábado onde ela não estava com força de vontade o suficiente para sair de casa e olhar pessoas ao mesmo tempo que queria uma validação vazia e fútil que conseguiria facilmente no tinder. "ás vezes eu não quero me arrumar, sair e me encontrar com pessoas feias presencialmente, sabe? cansa."

[wyldache]

@honortodth : ❝ touch me. ❞

before feanor even speaks, the only thing zhenya can think about is what it might be like to reach out, break the distance between them and drag her mouth across his. ❝ you want me to touch you. ❞ she murmurs, the golden rings in her hair clinking together as she moves closer so that her scent of cedar and incense clouds the air between them.

she could joke that she already is, a hand pressed to the cloth bound against his stitched-up wound. but she won't.

❝ where do you want me to touch you? ❞ zhenya's breath ghosts up against his cheek. all he'd have to do is turn his head. all it would take is the purposeful tilt of his chin for their mouths to meet. the idea robs her of all her breath, holds her fast by a fierce longing. her palms burn, aching to take his face into her hands and pull him against her. ❝ here? ❞ a hand presses to his thigh, wraps around the firm muscle there. ❝ or here, perhaps? ❞ her nose against his ear, her heart in her throat as she exhales. ❝ or... maybe here? ❞ that hand on his thigh travels up, travels high. settles between feanor's legs, so close but not close enough.

she almost smiles. would, if her heart wasn't racing. ❝ is that what you meant? ❞

SMUTTY DIALOGUE : always accepting.

[wyrdhearth]

@honortodth : plotted starter.

the moon is full, the wind is sweet and salted, and the city is alive, and still the air between them is quiet. an amicable, gentle silence, but silence nonetheless. zhenya reclines against the rough trunk of a nearby thick-barked tree and sets her eyes upon feanor. like many of the other gravetenders she's met in her travels, he's quiet; reflective. rumor had it the cleric had taken a vow of silence for a year; she isn't sure if this is true, but looking at him now, she believes it.

❝ back home, ❞ she murmurs in her husky, heavy accent, so different from the regal tones of the gate's elite. ❝ we used to tell stories and feast after a funeral. to remember the deceased in more ways than their last days. I am... not so used to the melancholy here. ❞ zhenya understands, of course. death wears different cloaks for different people. ❝ will you break bread with me? to remember those that are gone? ❞

[heyymikki]

WHO: @nikodimopoulos LOCATION: Gold Dust Diner

In all honesty, Mikayla hadn't expected her late-night text to receive a response, let alone for it to result in Niko agreeing to grab food with her. After all, he'd said it was to be used for emergencies only, but he didn't seem to push back against her bucking the rules too hard, which only served to amuse her and make her want to see how far she could go with it. Still clad in her pajamas, she'd met him outside of her house, and they drove the few minutes to downtown, arriving at the diner shortly after.

"You can take a seat over there. I've got to talk to them real quick," she said, motioning towards her usual booth, then made her way to the counter to speak with the waitress on shift to request a fresh pot of coffee be made. It was the least she could do for him considering he'd gone out of his way to pick her up. She slid into the booth across from him and let out a sigh as she picked up one of the menus. "Will you actually eat while we're here or should I keep my recommendations to myself?"

[peterbasara]

open starter @aurorabaystarter location: outside of oasis nightclub

Peter took a hit from his vape before posing a question, obnoxiously exhaling the smoke of it into the air between them.

"Okay so what's the absolute worst song to play in a club? What could make everyone stop dancing immediately and send them home in the worst mood-killer? An anti-banger, if you will."

[hienaquatro]

onde: ??? quando: pós plot drop, quando quiser. com: você!

"caras!" chamou como se estivesse sentindo uma lâmpada ascender em cima de sua cabeça junto do pensamento, não parando para notar se alguém realmente estava prestando atenção em suas palavras. "se nós estamos na vida após a morte, purgatório, good place, sei lá como você prefere chamar..." gesticulava de forma eufórica a medida que articulava o que era dito. "isso quer dizer que o que quer que tenha acontecido lá em pride lands foi tipo o começo de uma guerra? uma vibe assim matrix?" falou o primeiro filme que veio a sua cabeça, balançando a mesma por um momento antes de continuar. "... não sei se essa analogia foi boa, tenho que trabalhar nela..."

[bernwrd]

starter fechado com @elecnora

lugar: sala de costura

se meses atrás alguém dissesse que aprenderia com uma princesa estrangeira como tricotar, teria dado uma gargalhada ou reconheceria a criatividade da pessoa. mas, a oportunidade surgiu da maneira mais inusitada possível e mesmo sem entender muito bem o que eleonora viu nele, não questionou. era uma boa oportunidade de aprender algo e descobrir mais sobre o brasil. quem sabe fosse seu novo lar? se estivesse em um bom momento ou ao menos mais estável do que a frança, não pouparia esforços. "olá, alteza." a cumprimentou na entrada da sala, chegando até acenar com a mão, um tanto desajeitado. acabou se arrependendo do gesto, enfiando as mãos nos bolsos enquanto caminhava até uma das poltronas vazias e próximas dela, sentando-se. "sei que estou de uniforme, mas esse é meu horário livre." garantiu com um curto sorriso. "e... bom, eu não tenho agulhas, nem sabia qual delas pegar, então... achei melhor não me arriscar em comprar alguma."

[mwrjorie]

starter fechado com: @elecnora

evento: festa de ano novo

era a primeira vez que marjorie se importava em estar perto de alguém na virada do ano. embora vivesse um conflito constante entre o que deveria fazer e o que queria, era fácil esquecer do primeiro quando eleonora a olhava daquele jeito. combinaram que se afastariam dos demais antes da contagem e, após encontrar o cantinho perfeito, a beijaria exatamente meia-noite. uvas ficariam para outro momento; uma desculpa para terem sumido. no entanto, mesmo com tanto cuidado e planejamento, esqueceram de algo importante: ela era a princesa do brasil. pouco antes da contagem, antes mesmo que a guarda pudesse sinalizar, a viu ser abordada por alguém importante. não sabia se interrompia ou não, tudo parecia ser suspeito demais. então, a contagem veio. não tirou os olhos dela, a pressa substituída gradualmente pela aceitação da derrota. meia-noite; feliz ano novo. todos se cumprimentavam, mas os olhos de fontes continuavam focados no mesmo alvo. seu olhar calmo, com um sorriso um tanto desapontado, mas não totalmente incômodo. discreto também, como de costume. como não conseguiria atravessar o local considerando toda a movimentação, pegou seu celular para mandar mensagens.

📲: feliz ano novo, micaela! :)

📲: creio que teremos que esperar o próximo ano para realizar essa tradição...

[malizio]

startercall ! tap the heart. make sure to state if you want a certain version of him, wander, harbinger ect.

[giselle-clarke]

spilling tea over coffee // f2f ⬌ danselle

To say that Giselle was already stressed out over her studies would be an understatement. She was still failing at learning when to take a break to do absolutely anything that would get her out of her dorm room, which was why she'd been holed up in here since getting out of her last class of the day. Luckily an opportunity presented itself when Dani offered to buy her coffee, which she was in desperate need of at the moment anyways, so it only took a minute or so for her to say screw studying and agree to it. Though, there was an incentive here: the other woman was going to reveal who she thought was the best looking person on campus, and she was all for getting it out of her.

With this being a quick trip over to the Lima Bean, she'd chosen not to change out of her leggings and sweatshirt but she did take the time to run a comb through her hair at least. God forbid I be caught on campus looking a complete mess. She thought to herself as she made sure she looked decent enough at least. Once she was sure her hair was fine, and then her make up, she slipped her feet into a pair of Nikes before heading out.

Giselle had only been to the Lima Bean one other time since arriving on campus and while it hadn't been her personal favorite, it would do for tonight. It didn't take long for her to make it there, and she managed to spot Dani almost instantly. "Hey, cutie." She teased, smiling as she approached her. "Ready to get this coffee and tell me your secret?" @daniwmu

[ashesrebirthed]

It was just another average day at Angel Investigations. That was, if you counted 'average' as Cordelia coming back from her nice, paid vacation away from the psycho slayer that knocked her out and kidnapped Wesley on some homicidal trip-out, only to discover that said psycho slayer was not only still hanging around, but living with her boss. In their office's basement! And then, to add insult to injury, being left behind while Angel and Wes were off playing hero to babysit her. Alone.

Not that she'd been very around to do much babysitting of. The sun was beyond high in the sky already, and there hadn't been a peep from Faith all day. Honestly, Cordelia wouldn't have minded if she'd just stayed holed away down there until Angel got back. At least then she'd be left to read her magazines in peace - which, practically a continuation of her paid vacation, couldn't complain about that part - but eventually the sound of footsteps did come, and, well. Nothing good ever did last forever, did it?

"Well, look who finally rises from Angel’s crypt.” Flipping to another page of her magazine, Cordelia didn't even bother to glance up. She might trust Faith about as far as she could throw her - which was to say, not at all - but she also knew she wasn't stupid enough to hurt her in plain sight. Not again, anyway. “Not really much with the shining, though, are you? If you're trying to beat out my boss for biggest creature of the night, I hate to break it to you, but that guy pretty much has it down to an art form already.” // @wickedlehane + plotted starter!

[ohwynne]

TIMING: Current. PARTIES: Elias @eliaskahtri & Wynne @ohwynne LOCATION: Saol eile SUMMARY: Wynne finds Elias and attempts to help him. WARNINGS: Animal death, medical blood

The last thing Elias remembered was crying about how he was going to die, the dread that pooled in him as he slipped from consciousness. His life had flashed before his eyes, key moments with friends he considered closest dancing in visions around him as he watched himself walk away from the pit, dragged by Regan. But in the end, he couldn’t hold on. His life slipping away like sand through his fingers. Completely unaware of their surroundings, Regan had left Elias out of the way and let out a scream, hoping it would attract someone to help. 

Elias was bleeding, stab wounds to his left shoulder, his upper left arm, and three stabs to his lower abdomen, all bleeding. The man looked pale and grey, as if he had nothing left in him. Despite all of it, he still drew breath. Despite everything, the barely-there pulse and shallow breathing was still there. Elias Kahtri wasn’t dead, not yet. But he would be if he wasn’t treated soon. And fast.

_____

They couldn’t manage it, hiding in the clinic attic and waiting for the evening to come. It couldn’t come quick enough, this moment of escape that seemed more far away the closer it came. Until then Wynne tried to practice patience. They played some Animal Crossing (which was sweet, but made them think of the small town they lived in and how they missed ‘their’ villagers) and abandoned the attic. As it got closer and closer to the end of the day and Elias remained absent, though, they grew worried. They were supposed to be all together — but the clinic remained empty and quiet. No Elias, no Regan, no Nora. No notifications on their phone. They felt something harden in their stomach as they looked at their and Elias’ belongings and figured it was time to go look for their friends and inform them it was time.

So they ventured out. The aos sí was covered in a heavy cloak of what Wynne could only describe as grief. The wailing women paid little attention to them as they all moved around in dark clothes, some faces hidden behind dark veils. They weren’t sure what Worm Remembrance Day entailed, but they had expected it to be a more happy occasion as remembering worms seemed like a good thing. The banshees seemed to be in a state of mourning, though. They could not help but take it as a bad omen as they continued slipping through cobbled streets and alleyways.

But even though they had thought the atmosphere of grief a bad omen, they hadn’t expected to find Elias like this. Near that pit of no-good tar, covered in his own blood and injuries, a pale shadow of himself. When their eyes fell on the image straight out of a horror movie they’d never watch, they let out a strangled noise. They were supposed to leave tonight. Safely and all in one piece, but here Elias was, looking more dead alive. Wynne looked over their shoulder and rushed over, crouching at their friend’s side. “Elias? Elias — hey, can you – can you stand? We should —” Eyes flicked to the tar pit in the distance. Someone was screaming and they felt their ears buzz with the sound. “Elias can you hear me?”

_____

Elias’s shirt had been removed and pressed against the wound on his lower abdomen, but he was no longer conscious. He was pale and almost gray from the blood loss, face confronted in pain. This was it, wasn’t it? This was where he died. Overseas in Ireland without a way to contact his family one last time. No, he couldn’t. His eyelids fluttered as he heard a familiar voice calling his name. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but it was too much effort to do so. He was being asked if he could walk. He couldn’t even speak, let alone move his body. He’d been through so much, but the words that Marcus had told him echoed in his mind. “Even if you’re at death's door, don’t break your resolve.” He had to keep going. He thought of his sister, how she’d be devastated to lose him, even if she was in London. He thought of his parents, who called every other day to check on him, and how he’d had to continue to lie to them about where he was, what he was doing. 

He had to remember that giving up wasn’t going to just affect him, but the people around him that mattered to him. So with that in mind, he let out a cry of pain as he forced himself onto his knees, wavering as he wanted so desperately to just curl up and sleep. He needed rest, but he couldn’t. There was no safe place here. Instead, Elias held out a hand to Wynne for help. He couldn’t do this alone. He was too weak. 

_____

Wynne had seen blood before. They had slit a rooster’s throat and watched it bleed out. There had been the lambs and other animals laid on the altar to bleed, red mixing with fur or bristles. There had been Jac, laid down and bled out as the ultimate sacrifice. There was Iwan, bleeding out in their dreams. There was all that blood back in the barn. They had seen blood before, but they’d never get used to the sight of it in large quantities. 

Their hands trembled as they took stock of the situation. A trail of blood leading up to the tar pit, a mush of shirt pressed against what seemed like another wound. The scream continued, in that tar pit, and they were afraid it would come closer — but it seemed it wasn’t. That was good. They watched with wide eyes as Elias was trying to get up and their hands trembled, not sure where to support him.

He extended a hand and they took it, placing their other hand under his armpit. They used all their strength (which was not totally insignificant) to pull Elias to his feet and then turned 180 degrees so they were aligned with him. They draped his hand over their shoulder and held onto it, then took hold of his side. His tallness had been a thing of awe before, but now it was quite a bother. “Okay, we should go, to the … to the clinic.” There were things to help him there. They swallowed thickly and tried one step. “Can you … can you manage?”

_____

Every step was like stepping on knives. Every step felt as if he were trying to make his way through hardening concrete. His vision was tunneling again, and Elias knew that he didn’t have long before he’d be completely useless to Wynne. “Trying.” He forced out, voice hoarse and mangled. He couldn’t talk, he had to conserve what little energy he had to make it to the clinic. It felt like years, the walk to the clinic. It felt like a great trek, like he was walking up mount doom to throw the ring into the volcano. This was his Mordor. And dammit, if Frodo could do it, then so could he. 

Finally, they’d made it to the clinic, and everything Elias was using to get himself there with Wynne’s aid left of him. The second he’d reached inside, his body collapsed as he went unconscious once again, the pain too great for him to keep holding on. The blood loss and the pain culminated into a hellish existence, and all Elias wanted to do was sleep. He had to sleep.

_____

They made it. Eventually they made it to the clinic, that so-called safe haven where Regan had offered them shelter. Wynne grew winded but it was nothing compared to what they imagined Elias to be feeling and so they powered through. Teeth grit, eyes forward, breaths inhaled and exhaled with a steady rhythm. Wasn’t it always easiest for them to exist when they were being relied on, anyway? When there was someone look at them for a purpose. Now they had a purpose and it was to get Elias away from the banshees roaming around.

They made it and Elias fell down, eyes fluttering up but not seeing anything. They let out a mangled sound and looked outside, hoping the sound of the large man falling down hadn’t alerted any of the banshees. They spent a good minute barring the door and then rushed over to Elias, turning him on his back and taking a closer look at what had been done to him. Done to him. Someone had done this to him and left him there and Wynne had no idea how to solve this.

Their hands trembled again and they scrambled for the fallen t-shirt, pressing it against the gushing wound again. In their mind it was Padrig who reminded them to be calm. To be calm is essential. And it was. It was. They breathed in and out and got up, eyes scanning around the room. This was a clinic. There were bandages. There were things to clean wounds, there had to be. Dr Kavanagh was a good doctor. She had made Cass better when she’d been hurt, so she would have the stuff. She had to have the stuff.

There were books with things like First Aid: what to do in emergencies! on them, but also books titled First Aid: how to preserve bones in case of fracture and Worm First Aid, which made them worry maybe they weren’t reliable. So they pulled out their phone and Googled ‘what to do with stab wounds’.

Wikihow gave a to do list. That was good. Wynne tried to read it while gathering supplies. One: Survey the area. They had done that already, so that was good. Two: Call for emergency help immediately. That was not an option. They did not know the Irish number to 911 and there was no way they would be able to get here on time and also they would probably also be stabbed. Three: Lay the person down or get them to sit. Okay! That was also done. Wynne scrolled a little further, past the picture of someone on their back with blood everywhere. Elias looked like that, so it was definitely a stab wound.

They hit the section about ‘Attending the stab wound’, which was where they had to be. Wynne searched for disposable gloves because those were needed. Regan definitely had those and soon enough they found them, blue gloves peeled over their fingers. They then went over what WikiHow called ‘ABC’s’, rushing over to Elias to check if he was breathing and also pumping blood. He definitely was. There was a pool of blood spreading onto the ground below him. WikiHow told them to take off the clothes (already done) and to take out the knife (already done) and to stop the bleeding (definitely not done).

They speed-read through some of the article, gathering the supplies it told them they needed. Clean towels and bandages, something to disinfect the wounds, dressings and something called a ‘suture kit’. They wobbled back to Elias with their tower of supplies, changed their gloves once again because they were afraid they had gathered some kind of banshee dirt and knelt down.

There was a short moment where the air froze, where they looked at everything in front of them and wanted to do nothing but burst into tears. But there was Regan’s voice, too, telling them to demand better. They demanded better than Elias succumbing to wounds in a banshee clinic. And so Wynne got to work. They wrapped one towel tightly around Elias’ arm and then another around his shoulder, trying to give more pressure as they focused on the main problem. His gut. They peeled away the shirt, blood clinging and stringing away from it and they tried not to worry about all the blood he was losing. They tried to be single minded. To remember their purpose. Wynne was a person with a purpose. Once they were destined to die to save their community and today they had to try and save Elias by walking through the surgical fire.

So they tried. They cleaned the wound and kept their tears in their eyes. They Googled how to pack a wound because they didn’t understood what it meant and then did that, lips trembling but their eyes still dry. Calm, as not only Padrig demanded them to be, but the situation did too. They put down a dressing that fit once the wound was packed, taping it extra because they weren’t sure it was good enough. They breathed in. Out. In. And moved onto the arm. Then the shoulder.

And as they breathed Elias breathed too and as long as he did, Wynne would not tip over the edge. Even if blood covered their knees and hands and face, even if they wanted nothing but to howl and cry. When they spoke to him again after what felt like an eternity their voice was a whisper. “I’m sorry.” For what, they weren’t sure. Perhaps for not being better at this. For this being all there was. For having given in to this idea, to this journey to Ireland. For not having stopped whatever this was. “Please.” In that case, they were sure what they were begging for. A miracle.

_____

After Wynne had attended to Elias’s wounds, time passed. He still drew breath, but that was the extent of it. He was pale and unmoving with a contorted expression of pain on his face. While his body pleaded for death, for release from the pain. But it never came. Instead, the pain continued in the dreamless, fitful rest. Seconds turned to minutes turned to hours. When Elias’s eyes fought to open, it was dark. He couldn’t get himself to open his eyes. He was so groggy that it felt as if he were in a fog. Then, he finally opened his eyes. The pain was excruciating, but he was alive. He’d made it. “Wynne?” He croaked out, noticing them sitting nearby. 

“I should be dead.” He decided aloud, brows pinching together in confusion. They already felt a need to close their eyes again, lids heavy. “Regan…” he tried to say, the words becoming more and more hard to get out. “Grandmother. Tortured.” he couldn’t continue speaking. Instead, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to go back to the land of sleep. A dreamless, fitful slumber to repair the damage that had been done. “‘M sorry.” He forced out, eyes still closed. 

_____

Once they thought they’d done everything they good they peeled off their gloves, disposed of them in a tiny, bloody heap on the floor and pulled their knees up to their chin. Wynne rocked back and forth, a tear breaking through a smudge of blood on their face as they stared at Elias. This should be when they texted Teddy or Emilio, to tell them that they had to come, no matter the cost — or that maybe they should forget about them. This should be where they ran out and grabbed Nora and ran to the edge of this place and on and on and on and fulfilled their promise to Emilio.

But they remained rocking back and forth, staring at Elias and willing him to open his eyes. They had a duty and a purpose and this time they would not leave before it was fulfilled. When he finally did stir a sound of relief (that sounded a lot like a sob) was pushed from their throat. “Elias,” they said, moving over on all fours. He said Regan’s name and their stomach sank — was she hurt too? Was she bleeding out elsewhere? But then he tacked on the word grandmother, and it made a little more sense. “Tell me later, okay? You can tell me some other day. You can – when you feel better.” When, not if. “It’s okay. Just stay — just stay with me, okay?” They pulled back the blanket they had put over him, seeing that the dressings still looked considerably white and pulled it back to his chin. “Don’t be sorry.”

_____

Forcing a tight smile, Elias looked up at Wynne. “Make a good nurse,” he mumbled through waves of sleep. He was grateful that Wynne had been there, that Wynne had saved his life. He didn’t know how they did it, but they did. “Thanks.” He forced out, giving a pained half smile before closing his eyes again, sleep threatening to take him once more. He was just so tired. Everything was exhausting right now. 

He was relieved when Wynne bid him not to talk about it, and he nodded his head once, then winced at the pull of the muscles around his shoulders. He never really paid attention to how much pain he could cause from such a simple motion. “‘M not going anywhere.” He reassured Wynne, cracking open an eye to give a wry smile. “‘M a stubborn motherfucker.” The swear came easier from his lips, something he was hesitant with in the past.

Everything felt like it was in slow motion, as if time wasn’t moving correctly. What should have been a minute felt like an hour to him. He wanted to find Regan, he wanted to help. But if he tried to do anything, he’d be a burden and nothing more. “Gonna rest now.” He decided, eye closing once more as he let sleep claim him once again.

_____

Protherians weren’t healers. They never had to be with the demon’s blessing. It was not up to doctors or surgeons to keep someone in good health, but their community and the unknown they revered. So they didn’t know much about these things. But they’d seen the nurses and doctors at the hospital, had seen how they washed their hands before touching Wynne’s injury, how they had patched it up.

They didn’t really know if they did a good job, though. In the hospital they’d gotten blood transfusions but they couldn’t do that here. All they had was their amateur hands and their desperate determination to not see someone die. Elias called them a good nurse. They didn’t answer his compliment by pointing out they were not good enough. They just looked at him. “I am glad you are stubborn.” For once they were. Everyone’s stubbornness had made them feel lost and angry these past days but they felt grateful now. 

He seemed out of it, though. As if he was tethered to another place as well as this plane of existence. Maybe with his blood some of him had gone. “Okay. Okay. I’ll stay here. No one’s coming. Just rest — and next time —” They inhaled. “Next time you see me you’re drinking water.” Hydration was always good. Wynne rested their forehead against their knees as Elias dozed off once more. 

Wynne did not sleep that night. In stead, they got one of the cots from upstairs down with an amount of noise that made their stomach sound. They got Elias on there in a way they’d prefer not to retell to him once he was properly conscious again. They scrubbed the floors with soapy water that turned an ugly shade of pink, then scrubbed their hands and nails until the blood was mostly gone. They gave Elias water. They checked his dressings. They kept him warm. They took their clothes off, balled them up and threw them away and changed into something not stained with the blood of their friend. They waited for something, anything. For Nora, for Regan, for the courage to reach out to someone back at home. They pulled their knees up to their chin, leaned against the cot and fell asleep after sunrise to the rhythm of Elias’ continued breathing.