DREAMING — OPEN, MAJOR INJURY

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    [justify][fancypost borderwidth=0px]a little baby warning for the 3rd paragraph and after


    It was not uncommon for him to be seen wandering idly now, seeing as it had become a pastime for him. His responsibilities weighed on him, and only increased in pressure with his sudden boost in hierarchy. While he did not hold the many liabilities some others possessed, he had yet to actually face those duties. He had only just been promoted, after all. Being a Lieutenant filled him with pride, and it fueled his ego, if that was remotely possible any further. His thoughts often lead him to the outskirts of DarkClan's territory, but they never carried him beyond it. Perhaps he had been so caught up in his musings that he had yet to realize. His group's domain varied in regards to the one he found himself in. What appeared before him was thick foliage — large, sky-scraping trees, various types of shrubs, flowers and vines. The flora came in many, countless colors, all of which caught his eye. His pupils widened as he padded further into the forest, unaware of where exactly he was. The stench of it left him crinkling his nose in revulsion, yet he continued forward on his trek. He was conscious of the Exiles, and their influence on other groups. They were viewed as a disease, an adversary to all. What Scott knew was limited, but he was aware of enough to be cautious. However, he did not know that he was lingering in their territory, like a mouse nearly caught in a trap. The cat sneaked around somewhere nearby, and the mouse was ignorant to its presence. It seemed as though that was his situation.


    Montgomery trekked on regardless of where he was, too consumed by his thoughts and curiosity to truly care. A rustle in the brush nearby forced him to pause and come to a momentary halt. His ears pricked forward and his eyes suddenly narrowed upon the shrubbery. When nothing emerged from the foliage, he squinted before flickering his attention elsewhere and moving onward. There were multiple, somewhat questionable, noises to follow the initial incident. Every time, he was forced to hesitate. Nothing, or no one, ever appeared, however, so he was left wondering why he was becoming so guarded in the pretty scenery. It almost felt pointless. Scott eventually stopped altogether when he sensed another's presence, and he swallowed at the lump in his throat. He nearly towered over everything within his vicinity, aside from the trees. No one could truly be there.


    What did he have to fear?


    It all happened in one quick motion. One moment passed in complete silence, but the next was complete chaos. Someone had managed to creep up on him; Scotty was shocked at his foolishness. The other had been much larger than himself, and was therefore able to quickly take him down in one fell swoop. His breath had been knocked out of him, forcing him to choke on nothing and cough dryly. The Exiler snarled at him, yet it appeared to cause his lips to curl back in a malicious grin. His ears immediately flicked back against his skull, and he attempted to push his head back against the ground to avoid the breath and closeness of the one pinning him to the floor. He said nothing, and for a moment, all was still once more. Then everything happened in a quick flash. Montgomery had been fine aside from being trapped beneath the Exiler and out of breath. Now, however, excruciating agony erupted from his leg, or rather, where it had been. Somehow the male perched on top of him had ripped his left front limb from his body, leaving him with a bloodied, broken stump. The muscles and tissue were hanging from what was left behind, and bleeding profusely. Soon enough, his back felt sticky and warm despite the chilling air hitting him elsewhere. Scott forced himself to look down, to peer at the effect of the Exiler and his corrupted morals, and eventually choked out a sob of pain. There must have been adrenaline coursing through his body, for one minute he felt everything piling against him, but the next there was simply a dull ache. "I gotta...I gotta get out of here," Montgomery ended up repeating to himself under his breath, sounding much like a broken record. The Exiler merely sneered at him before lifting himself off the severely wounded Lieutenant. He kicked at him before plucking the disembodied limb from the ground and racing off with it, leaving Scotty on his own to suffer. "Gotta.." The canine mumbled, a bit hysterical in the moment, completely denying what had only happened minutes before. "Gotta go home. D-DarkClan." He couldn't bring himself to his paws, so he merely rolled over, ignoring the dust and dirt that pushed into his wound. It caused pain to shoot through the left side of his body, and he winced as he lowered his head, eyes shutting tight. When he reopened them, he began to pull himself forward with his right paw.


    It would take him long before he reached DarkClan's province. What he left behind was a trail of blood, already darkening over the snow-coated ground. He looked pitiful, and feeble, shaking and shivering in spite of himself. Mont loathed it, but he knew there was absolutely nothing that could be done. Regardless, he was still frenzied, eyes surveying the area in a rather frantic manner. Signals shot off in his mind, causing him to "see" images of the Exiler who had attacked him. The one who had left him for dead. That male was in for a big surprise. Scott released a harsh laugh, though the movement and noise caused him much suffering. It was when he could smell DarkClan over the scent of his blood that he finally halted and let his head drop to the ground. The muscles and tissues being displayed spasmed uncontrollably, and it occurred often in small intervals. He refused to call for help; it would only crush what little pride and dignity he had left. He was a goddamn Lieutenant, not a pansy apprentice with low self-esteem and high dependence on others. "I'm fuckin' Scott...for Christ's sake," his voice was inaudible, even to himself. The blood loss had been affecting him exponentially, causing him to hallucinate and feel light-headed. "Shit.." His ear twitched as the agony came crashing down on him as it had when it initially started. He released a choked sob as he pushed his face into the ground, utterly hopeless.


    word count: 1089


    ★★★ — updated 12/08

    [fancypost bgcolor= transparent; width: 450px; border: 0px;][justify][color=#d1cdca][font=baskerville]
    /why you hurt him like this
    sorry i couldn't match your muse :/


    THERE'S a hazardous quality to living here, or more accurately, to living in general. He's nearly met his death on several occasions, but he's noticed that in DarkClan, many of them are magnets for trouble. There are tired faces everywhere he looks, and they barely know each other, but he wants to help. He's never been any good at overlooking people in pain, other than his opponents in a fight. These are his fellows, though, and so he wants to make it easier on all of their young shoulders, but he's not sure how to do that. They're not the types to go after getting help, whether it's their pride or not wanting to "impose" that keep them from saying anything.
    Dignity's a factor too. Nobody likes vulnerability.
    What he finds on patrol isn't a simple vulnerability. The blood's copper crowds his senses, and his eyes widen. He's seen terrible things in his lifetime, but he's usually expected those, or caused them. This is out of the blue, and North crosses the remaining distance at a sprint, leg be damned. He'll bleed out if they're not fast enough, that stump from where his left limb used to be now a highway for his blood to drain from.
    "Jesus. Scott, hang in there kid." His voice is steady, because his focus is ingrained. That's the only reason, and North tampers with the flow of empathy, so he won't * this up getting shaky. The binding for his splint is going to have to hold until Ben or one of the others arrive; he doesn't waste time pulling it from its place. He attempts to wind the cord around what little of the stump there is, tightening it, praying it'll stem some of the blood.
    "I NEED A MEDIC STAT!" The serval bellows, before his attention's given to Scott again. North tries to cover the canine, to keep him warm. "Hold on, they'll be here soon."
    He hopes it's not a lie.
    [align=center][spoiler=INFO - 12/07][justify][color=#d1cdca][font=Baskerville]GENERAL:
    - Kostya (Konstantin) | Goes by North
    - 3 ½ years old
    - Member of DarkClan
    - Ex Mercenary
    - Twin brother to South (Mariya)
    - Bisexual, doesn't get attached easily
    - Based off of Agent North Dakota from RvB


    PHYSICAL:
    - Dark violet serval (dyed, not natural)
    - Very pale blue eyes
    - Mostly hidden knotted scar at base of neck
    - Small "South" branded into the inner forelimb of his right leg
    INJURIES
    - Broken right leg, deep neck bite wound


    PERSONALITY:
    - Tolerant, accepting, a team-player
    - Either a listener or a talker, depending on company's needs
    - Friendly though sometimes awkward
    - Passive-aggressive temper, can carry grudges for a while
    - Very calm and cool-headed
    - Tends to act like an older brother


    BATTLE:
    - Attack in [color=violet]bold violet
    - Difficulty varies
    - Cautious fighter but not unskilled

    Mothnose and Scott hadn't really got on that well, but... man, this was awful. Scott was limping along, somehow with three legs. Moth nearly vomited at the sight of the stump that was oozing blood, but ran over anyway. Scott probably wouldn't appreciate her help, but she'd try. She managed to arrive at the same time as North, who quickly began working away at a splint and keeping Scott warm. "Ben's gonna be here soon, you'll be fine, Ben's gonna patch you up," she repeated to the pinscher, frantically looking around for anything other than North that could keep Scott warm.

    [fancypost bgcolor= transparent; border: 0px; text-align: justify]Everyone was familiar with the Exiles. Kittens, apprentices, officers, everyone. They all knew to steer clear of the scent that clearly distinguished the group of misfits from everyone else, and if Jones had known that Scott had haphazardly waltzed into their territory, he probably would have sounded a lot like Ben lecture-wise. But he wasn't Ben, and he didn't know that Scott had trespassed (he didn't even know it was Scott), and North's cries for a medic heightened his curiosity, rather than his fears. There was nothing to give Jones a cause for severe panic, nothing to make him think that one of his friends was lying on their own border bleeding out of a hole where his leg had once been. Unfortunately, for Jones, he was wrong. The call for a medic caused the Akita to jog towards the direction of the cry, ears perked forward and eyes widened with interest. At first, he could only see the violet serval, but it didn't take long for the scent of blood to harass his sense of smell, and a quick once-over on North confirmed he was not the one who had been injured here. So, who was it? Dare he venture forward? He was not one of the requested medics, but this was one of his clanmates, and he was gradually growing more concerned. For reasons unbeknownst to Jones, though soon to be revealed, a bad feeling had begun to settle into his stomach, his heart was pounding in his chest, and he was nervous - scared - to get any closer, but he foolishly shrugged away his worries and brushed past North, not ready for the sight before him. It had taken a few seconds, but the second that he registered just who he was looking at, it was like everything around had stopped. He couldn't think, his breath was caught in his chest, his head felt cloudy. He could only focus on Scott. The Doberman was almost unrecognizable through all the blood, which probably explained why he had not picked up on Scott's scent beforehand. Move," Jones mumbled, the initially quiet command directed at North. "Move!" He growled, louder this time, though his voice cracked slightly, hopefully unnoticeably. He paced back and forth, his eyes never leaving Scott, his brows furrowing in concern and a grim frown had formed across his lips. "What the hell, Scott?" The canine muttered, though his tone held none of the coarseness that it had when he was speaking to North. Just sadness and worry. Scott and Lorraine were his two closest (in relative terms) in DarkClan, and now one of them had been attacked, mutilated. Without thinking, he laid down next to the weakened Doberman, ignoring the sticky blood that immediately stained his fur as he edged closer to his friend. "Who did it? Who was it? I'll kill them, Scott, I swear to fuckin' God I'll do it." Despite his attempts to calm himself, there was no denying the panic and the desperateness that had crept into his tone. Jones didn't expect Scott to answer him, especially given all the pain he was in, the officer just didn't know what the hell to do.


    "Where is Ben?" He yelled, only to remember the relationship between the two. They were best friends, more than that - they probably considered themselves brothers. The Akita's ears flattened as he thought of how the medic would react. The only emotions he'd seen fron Ben were tiredness and disappointment, and Jones found that he didn't want to see anything else exhibited from Ben. He hoped that the shock of seeing his best friend in his state wouldn't impair the wolf's ability to sufficiently do his job - Scott needed him. Now more than ever, probably. "Hey, buddy, you with me?" He asked, nudging the other dog gently, "Ben's comin' soon... he's gonna patch you right up.. okay, Scott? Everything's gonna be fine, you're gonna be fine." Jones had to believe that, and he wanted Scott to believe it too. Maybe not everything would be fine, but Scott wasn't going to fuckin' die here. Jones wouldn't let him. The longer he talked, the lower his voice got until he was practically just mumbling his shaky promises in Scott's ear, hoping to the high heavens that the newly-promoted Lieutenant really was going to recover from this. "We're gonna get the guy who did this," Jones sighed quietly, roughly biting the inside of his lip as he rested his head on the ground, casting concerned glances towards Scott every few seconds.


    /i started writing this at like 5 am so its probably kinda choppy but im tired as f*ck and weeping about scott also mobile rip & ninja'd kms


    TAGS — 11/26

    // sheesh moth and jones said exactly the same thing XD


    At Jones' command to move, Mothnose did. Although she was a higher rank than him, she didn't particularly feel like arguing. "Jones... he's your friend... but... he's in shock and this is not what he needs..." Moth said firmly, giving Jones a steely glare. She didn't care what had happened between them over Righthook, Scott was seriously injured right now, and did not need someone vowing to avenge him. Although it was nice, it wasn't a good idea.

    [fancypost bgcolor=transparent; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth: 500px][justify]/extremely rushed


    Lorraine wasn't a medic, plain and simple. She had knowledge of it, absolutely, but she was no medic. The female had been exploring the nearby area for- well, anything at all before everything started. She had managed to find a nice sheet, actually, torn but hanging off the cold ground out of the snow. It was folded nicely, and she carried it in her jaws.


    She wasn't expecting to use it today, but thank god she had it.


    Lorraine was immediately summoned to the scene from the panicked sounds, her heart beat beginning to pick up as she heard what sounded like panic. Jogging forward, it soon would all come into view. Jones seemed to be having a meltdown. It was at that point she saw Scott, bleeding out into the snow, blood pouring from a stump of what used to be his leg. Lorraine didn't even feel emotion in response yet. She... well, she needed to do something. Ben was nowhere to be seen yet. All she had was a torn sheet, but she was going to use it.


    "Jones, I need you to rip this sheet into strips." Lorraine said. At first, she didn't even know if she had been audible- she started anyways. "Leave enough blanket to cover him. He's going to go into-" she didn't know the English word for shock, so she stopped there. She ripped the blanket once into a makeshift bandage, hoping to use the cloth as a tourniquet. "Hello,Scott," She greeted, taking some steps further, briefly examining his condition. The leg seemed most important. "Here's what I'm going to do now- I'm going to tie this bandage around you tightly to get the bleeding to stop. You'll feel some tugging. Again, it's going to be tight." She didn't wait until her sentence ended for her to start; she began quickly, maneuvering the cloth into a tight knot right at the base of the stump where his leg once connected to his body."That wasn't so bad," she murmured, mainly to herself. "You're going to be alright. Jones, how are those bandages coming along?" there was rightful urgency in her voice. The binding North and she had created would keep him alive for at least the next few minutes, but they needed more.


    / again rushed!! Sorry if I missed anything. If you have a plot in mind, Nab, feel free to ignore the power playing in this post c:

    TAGS- *UPDATED 11/22

    [fancypost bgcolor= transparent; border: 0px;][justify]"I need a medic stat!"


    Someone was yelling, causing the wolf to stir from his place in a foxhole in the icy ground — eyes struggling to crack open and adjust to the light. Not too long ago, a DarkClanner had previously dug in to the soil, creating a shielded place to stay from the harsh wind that'd blown earlier in the night. Seeing as it'd been empty for a while, the surgeon general had found himself moving to sit in it. Ben had spent the dark hours staring up towards the lights that'd winked at him. He'd grown mesmerized by them, looking upwards with a slow blinking of his amber colored eyes. So stuck in that position (and for so long) that his eyes had glassed over in some sort of fake-sleep. His back pressing into the frozen ground behind him, medic equipment still pressed into the side... the skinny canine had eventually rocked his head back and unintentionally passed out. Now, again — he was trying to pull himself up, but the cold kept him down. The first voice calling for a medic sounded more as if it belonged to some sort of dream. His paws and face burned from the cold. Benjamin hadn't even realized that he'd fallen asleep out of sheer exhaustion, out where it was more than just freezing.


    "Where is Ben?" Another yell. Ben couldn't help but make some sort of strained sound of — not of protest, but of something else. Consciousness hit him like a truck, causing his head to come upright. Snow was frozen in clumps to his chocolate coat, and immediately the lupine began to shiver. The medic found himself looking towards his paws, which only appeared to be frosted over. Not frostbite, but close. "Sh-sh*t." As he begun to tilt his head around, trying to relieve whatever ache, someone else screamed. It wasn't for him. Lorraine? He'd been too slow to really understand what the calls were saying until now. It was as if his brain itself had frozen over then, and Ben was struggling to melt it all off. The heavy copper scent smacked into his senses next. Scotty's too. A few other clanmates. There was groaning off somewhere, not far from where he now stood. He could recognize it immediately, but Benjamin was f*cking in denial. It hurt to move, every push forwards ached — his paws felt momentarily numb before blood began to circulate within them again. He stumbled through the snow, fighting his way with all he could to move ag ain. Life found itself in his previously-glassed over eyes, himself kicking up snow in the process of running towards the sounds.


    Scotty. Scotty was the one lying on the ground. Blood splattering all over the goddamn snow. Red... it was everywhere. Ben found himself moving forwards, but he was falling back in his head. His best-friend. He struggled to do something, pushing his way forwards to stand besides Lorraine. He felt frozen again, but this time it was just his own head. He was scared. He lost his regular composure standing there with his shoulders hunched. The male was shaking his head, his eyes widened. A few of his clanmates were there, surrounding him and Lorraine. His gaze glanced over the leg. Pulled and ripped straight off. Someone already tied a cord around it. Lorraine had a piece of cloth in a knot. Don't just stand there, he needs you for f*ck's sake. "Give... give em' some room." His voice came in some sort of hoarse-demand. Lorraine was an exception. Going into shock, the French coyote had thought the right idea. He was fumbling then, trying not to think that it was the newly-promoted lieutenant there. The wolf was heaving in a heavy breath, trying to be careful with a small syrette of morphine. "You're goin' to be alright, Mont. Promise." Was he? Christ. Finally a forced steadier voice came from him. He was throwing off the cap of the small needle and soon plunging it into his friend's skin somewhere near the pain. "There's some morphine for that, you know what that does — right, lieutenant?" He was trying — the same way he'd tried to save Righthook's kids, his paws scrambling in the snow, head nodding towards Lorraine in thanks towards her effort. Ben was yanking out gauzes, white bandages — dropping some in the process. Not too much. With a thicker roll of it his his jaws the wolf was wrapping it around the stump continuously — applying pressure as he did so. A lot of it. Enough to where Ben was bent downwards and holding it there. "Just keep those eyes open. This... ain't that bad. Ain't that bad." He was lying. His throat felt as if it was closing up, watching the crimson color continuously seep through the layers of bandages he was continuing to press up against the male, eyes switching back between his own fear, concern, and the need to be present. Him and Scotty, they were just kids. Without his brother, what would happen to him? The male in front of him couldn't die. The young medic needed him. He needed that awful *-eating grin coming from the pinscher then. It hurt him to see him in pain. While Benjamin was 'his medic' to Montgomery, the male had so many titles just for the canine in front of him. The two of them had been friends since early childhood. The days when Ben hadn't been able to handle his training — as they tried to shape him into someone with hardly any emotion, Scotty had been there to greet him with some form of embrace at the end of the day — whether he was covered with blood or not. The dog hadn't even seemed to care about his appearance, and instead had just made sure that he'd been there for him. Scotty couldn't die. His head was titling towards Lorraine, giving shaky jerk of his head towards Scotty's upper body in a motion to his previous words. Keep him awake — was basically what Benjamin was trying to get across to the female.


    "Stay way with me here, Mont. You... ain't allowed to go anywhere."


    [hr]

    TAGS — updated 11/13

    [justify][fancypost borderwidth=0px]winks + its all good yall (8 + this is way longer than i meant it to be IM SO SORRY OMG


    The first to the scene was North, someone who had spotted him from afar and had nearly sprinted to his position. He hardly knew him, was barely acquainted with him, and yet he still raced toward him. The injury he endured, he assumed, were the cause of that, rather than acquaintanceship. It was what any DarkClanner would do for another one of their kind. He could also presume that what had really drawn him near was the overwhelming stench of blood, its copper tang staining the air around him. Scott buried his nose further into the frigid snow, attempting to mask the scent with the fresh smell of the untarnished flurry coating the ground. The cold helped to numb the pain he felt. Regardless, it left him quivering even more so than he had been previously. He did not acknowledge North's initial comment, which had been directed toward him. Scott instead turned his head so that the side of his muzzle was pressed against the snow. His eyes were focused outwards rather than at the male who had stepped within his vicinity. He didn't enjoy his presence, not at first at least. His initial reaction was to flinch and scoot away, but his strength had been sapped. It was when North began to approach him with the cord that a low growl sounded in the back of his throat. As soon as the cord had been wrapped around his stump, he groaned in pain, forcing back tears. Being injured with small cuts and scrapes was nothing in comparison to having a limb ripped from one's body. Once the action had ceased, his shoulder was pulsating. It was a constant reminder, rendering him whimpering in agony. The sound was low enough so that it was inaudible, fortunately, so he had little to worry about.


    'I NEED A MEDIC STAT!'


    His booming words caused him to flatten his ears against his head, and flinch somewhat, but otherwise, he remained absolutely still. "Don't touch me," the Pinscher uttered beneath his breath, honey visionaries darkening somewhat as he attempted to glance in North's direction. He instead settled his focus on what lay before him, cold. He felt chilled to the core, almost as if his insides were freezing. Scott was shocked that his wound hadn't gotten any worse, though he supposed he wouldn't know. The Lieutenant's knowledge on medicine was limited, barely going beyond the basics, if that far. The sound of another's pawsteps soon captured his attention, though he did not shift his head to peer at her. He listened to her as she spoke, though did not at all feel reassured. She spoke of Ben, said that he would be there. Yet, his medic wasn't there. Where was he? Mont's lips curled back in a harsh snarl, pain written on his facial features. Not only was Benjamin able to mend others physically, he was able to bring tranquility, at least to himself. Perhaps it was because of the countless months they had spent together. Their bond was unbreakable, after all. The longer he thought of his best friend, the more he longed to see him and simply have him there.


    Jones' approach to the scene had been an abrupt one, as well as one that was quite obvious and overly obnoxious. He hadn't expected the male to react in such a way, especially with their earlier interactions with one another. That time was one he did not wish to recall ever again, as it made him feel pathetic and feeble, though nowhere near as much as he did now. The drill of questions he received was unexpected, causing him to frown further than he had been before. He wanted to tell the other male to shut up, and then grin at him in a teasing manner, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead he simply stared at him, eyes wide and lips curled back in the same frown as before. Mont felt as though if he spoke, he would only cough up blood, or he would heave, or perhaps even lose it altogether and begin rambling on and on over nonsense. The hysterical phase he had undergone was completely over, put to a grinding halt. It was instead replaced with another cruel phase, one that left him groggy and exhausted. Scott had to force his eyes to stay open, even as he received constant inquiries from the male laying beside him. When he believed he had replied, all that came out was murmur that made little sense, if any at all. The reassurances he was given from Jones were a bit more assuring, seeing as how he was a friend rather than a...rival? He didn't consider Mothnose an enemy, though he didn't see her as a rival either: simply someone he didn't particularly enjoy being around. He glanced at her before shifting his attention back to Jones, somewhat grateful for his presence, even if it didn't show. Regardless, he was still awaiting the arrival of his medic, the one he truly needed in the circumstance.


    Instead, Lorraine was given to him. She seemed to be more adept in the medicinal division than any of the others gathered, which was fortunate for him. Immediately, her presence gained control of the situation, not quite barking orders, but making them sound polite. Her curt greeting got him to grin in her direction, though the look dissipated almost as quickly as it had appeared. As she explained what she was to do, Montgomery had been attempting to give his utmost attention to her, but as soon as she proceeded with her actions, he writhed in pain. His tries to remain still went poorly, but overall, he hadn't moved as much as he thought he had. Once the initial agony was over, it left a sting, much as it had when North tied the cord around his stump.


    Ben's arrival to the scene was what caused him to perk up, though it was slight and hardly noticeable, unless an individual was paying enough attention to his actions. "Benny.." Scott croaked in a gravelly tone, voice low, though audible enough for the wolf to hear. It seemed as though Lorraine's commentary regarding shock was true, though it had taken awhile for it to surface. The Lieutenant's features seemed to relax, but his eyes carried a somewhat glazed look to them. He remained completely still, even as Ben worked away at his limb, or lack of leg. The word 'morphine' made its way into his mind, causing him to briefly reminisce the first time he had become aware of what the drug actually did. It almost instantly numbed the pain, more so than the snow had. Mont released a cough as he became conscious of the reality of the world once again, honey visionaries blinking so that they could fully focus on his best friend. Still, he could not form words on his tongue, nor in his mind. It seemed anything he had learned or done was completely absent from him in that given moment. There wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop it either, not until he fully came back to the living. He hadn't realized his eyes had been closing until Benjamin mentioned it, and he blinked them rapidly before opening them wide once more. The cold air stung them, but not as badly as it stung his severe and deadly wound. All of his attention was alighted on his medic, honey visionaries widened, yet still somewhat glassy. Agony riddled his facial features, but he fought to keep it from the surface, however with little avail. What was he to do?


    ★★★ — updated 12/08

    [fancypost bgcolor=transparent; bordercolor=transparent; borderwidth: 500px][justify]Benjamin was next onto the scene. Although he brought much needed medical supplies and experience, the French femme did not feel calmed by him. Why? Well, Ben was... he was worried. It didn't take even a glance towards him for the girl to recognize that. She could feel the energy between them all at that point, the pounding hearts, the fear, the urgency of the entire situation. The calmest out of all of them, ironically, was Scott himself, who had it in him to grin at her when she first approached. How was he so relaxed? Was it the blood loss that made him feel groggy, lightheaded enough to no longer express the terror? Had he accepted the possibility of death now? Lorraine met eyes with Scott, and for a brief moment, she thought she'd- well, there wasn't time for thinking right now. All she knew was that she didn't know how much of the anxiety she could take- Jones and Benjamin were, by lack of better terms, on the brink of losing their sh*t. Lorraine understood why.


    Lorraine made space for Benjamin, allowing him to do his work and awaiting his orders. It wasn't too long of a break; she had to make sure that Scotty remained conscious. The female moved around to his other side, pressing a paw against the femoral artery in his back leg to check his pulse. While doing so, she looked over his face, making sure he remained with them. If there was a slightest tinge of doubt that he wasn't, Lorraine would do whatever she needed to do to keep him in a conscious state. Benny, she heard Mont murmur, her heart sinking as a result. "Yes, Benjamin will fix this. You're in good hands. Now, try not to speak, Scott- look up and count the clouds in the sky." she murmured in gentle assurance, her tone revealing that it was for his own good over everything else; she noticed the amount of effort it took for him to communicate.


    The bleeding wasn't stopping. The fact that they were out in the cold snow wasn't helping, either, but Lorraine did not at all believe that he was stable enough to be moved. Her front covered in blood, Lorraine looked to Benjamin. The situation was looking bleak at this point. There already seemed to be at least a liter of blood on the ground, and more was following. "Ben- Ben, if it doesn't stop, we-" she paused, moving around Scott's body to get closer to the medic. Fear shadowed her words. She didn't want either of them to hear what she had to say, especially Mont, but this was becoming dire. His injury was already life-or-death. "We- we're going to have to cauterize the artery." 'Cauterize' was certainly was a scary word with a scary meaning: they'd apply a heated metal to raise the skin temperature of the wound to the extremes and cause the blood to coagulate. Such was a common practice in the treatment of injuries like these, but Lorraine disliked it because of the infection risk. Essentially, the question was, would Scott die now? Or risk dying later? It wasn't going to be pretty, that was for damn sure, but it was Benjamin's call. Whatever he deemed was the right thing to do, she would do.


    TAGS- 12/9