011 ~ [Voice/Action]

[distressedude]

[It's later in the evening when the Fon Master makes a reappearance in the village just outside the barracks. Somewhat dazed, Ion takes only a few steps before tripping and falling to his knees in the snow.]

[He brings a hand to his throat as he gasps, the numbing effects of the drugs quickly wearing away and bringing to attention a stinging pain running along his neck and chest. Numerous vertical cuts, some deep but none within rage of vital arteries, litter the front of his neck. And with only flimsy bandages to cover the wounds, the front of his robes had served to soak up much of the blood as a result.]

[Knowing he won't last long in the snow dressed as he is, with a shaky hand, Ion opens the journal and starts trying to speak to call for help... but no words come out. He tries to cough and clear his throat, but that only increases the pain in his neck tenfold. As such, a pained gasp is all that can be heard over the journal, the book unfortunately tilted towards the snowy sky.]

[And the Malnosso weren't even kind enough to leave him with a pen.]

Comments

Re: [Action]

[not-a-blueskid.livejournal.com]

[Sounds like a plan. Ploppin' you down on the bed now. 8^V

He looks quietly down at his fingers, takes note of the dried blood at his fingernails, and frowns—but he's not... But he helped a person, didn't he? That was...

A helpful person.

He reaches over and pulls the blankets over the mystery kid, being as gentle as possible.]

Someone's comin right now... okay?

[He hesitates, and then takes a few steps back.]

I—I gotta go. You get better, okay? Stay safe...

Then you can tell me your name.

[Action]

[distressedude]

[Ion practically sinks right into the bed, all of his muscles aching from the cold and his body crying for sleep. He doesn't dare turn his neck to look back at Wolfwood, but he can still look over from the corner of his eye.]

[Hopefully Wolfwood can read lips well enough to understand Ion when he mouths the words "Thank you".]

Re: [Action]

[not-a-blueskid.livejournal.com]

[There's just a ghostly trace of a smile on the boy's lips, before he turns and quietly walks out of the clinic, hand on his arm. Don't worry about the jacket—he's got another one back where he's staying.

He's thinking you probably need it more.]