(closed)

[asas]

who: shōyō hinata + palamedus sextus!
what: nerd finds jock hanging in a tree
when: during dorothea’s curse
where: woods

content warnings: descriptions of physical assault & violence, will add more if needed

[ shōyō has never, never been jumped on the streets, beach or even in the woods. the closest he’d ever been to physical blows were the times he’d have his spats with kageyama in high school, or when he’d get a high speed ball spiked to his face from time to time. it happens, an occupational hazard when you’re an athlete (that’s a joke). but the way he was now, trapped like a skinned animal and hanging by a rope from the thick branch of a tree, a damn trophy prize for the darkblood who put him there— it’s nothing he ever imagined for himself.

shōyō was suspended by his ankle for too long now; rope burned through skin and left raw abrasions from how much he’s already tried to move up and down. he couldn’t tell the time with how misty and dark it was under the murky canopies, and not only that— he’s frequently passed out, migrating in and out of a conscious state either by the blood pooling in his head and messing with his pressure, or . . . how many blows he’s taken there. the young man has been severely assaulted with every face of a baseball bat that one could imagine existed, sporting ugly hematomas, a broken nose, perhaps, split lips, chipped teeth and god knew how many more fractures that littered his swollen brows and purple eyelids, so bloated with inflammation that he could barely see through his right and nothing in his left.

it hurt to move, yet he kept swinging back and forth like a bursted pinhata in the winter breeze. if it weren’t for his blood, keeping him warm and serving as his blanket, he would’ve become a bloody frozen popsicle right now. it hurt to breathe, all his organs were squeezing his lungs, and expanding his chest would only pain his fissured ribs. picanha was supposed to bring something back. a knife, preferably.

through one of his more coherent awakenings, shōyō begins to sob into chokes, out of the aggravation his blood provided during dorothea’s curse— but fright came hand in hand, too. he was terrified. some dude just pounding him with a bat as if he were tenderizing meat. he’s terrified that someone else would show up and play around with him more, do worse, gut him up.

adrenaline skyrockets when he hears something snap. he doesn’t know if it’s a twig, a dry leaf, or the skip of a pebble. he just knows that it’s not the sound he’d grown used to: of his blood pelting the earth beneath him in a lazy drip. ]

Picanha!! Picanha, come back!! [ his omen is taking too long with the scouting; with the last of his strength, shōyō jounces the rope and forces his body to swing the chord madly, trying to bend his abdomen to relieve the pressure— but he cries out. he can’t fold the way he used to, and god damn it he’s facing away from the sound, he thinks. he’s too dizzy to tell. ] I know you’re there! Back the hell away from me!!

[ he has no weapon, no ability— nothing solid to truly back his warning, but he at least has spirit in him to talk back, anyway. ]

Comments

[megatheorem]

[A darkblood himself, Palamedes knows the odd prickling feeling pushing him into... the hunt. Frankly, it's quite annoying; it's there, it's present, but he's always considered himself quite good at compartmentalizing things of inconvenience until they overflow beyond his control, and so: he's ignoring it. It's working, for the most part. He followed Camilla around for a day pretending to "hunt" her to various corners of the Archives and bless her, she humored him, and that seems to have taken the edge off.

So it's without most of the darkblood problem swirling around in his brain that he takes to the woods. Maybe, he thinks, he can hunt some weird-ass animals out here; his own omen is some kind of cool rat, according to his friends, and maybe cool rats like to hunt.

(They do not. She has hunted, at best, some dry leaves. She is a sugar glider.)

But Palamedes is on the hunt for something to do, then, and credit him this — he isn't particularly excited to find someone hung from a tree and beaten. The twig that snaps is definitely from his omen skittering around in the nearby trees, Palamedes is nothing but bird bones in a gray robe, but oh — there's a person there, huh. At a glance he can survey a decent amount of the physical damage, that which shows on the surface, and he does not back the hell away at all, actually. No, he's still here, and coming closer.]

No offense, but what are you possibly going to do about me being here?

[Sorry if this is harsh? But c'mon dude. Palamedes doesn't shy away from injuries at the worst of times, though, and he can't exactly leave a guy hanging from a tree...

The tree, however, is a problem. Hm. He circles around this poor hanging guy in the meantime, hands held up placatingly while his gaze is turned up towards the rope in the tree itself. Hmm...]

I've never climbed a tree before, but I can get you down if you promise not to yell at me while I'm trying to concentrate. You'll pass out faster if you keep doing that, anyway. D'you think you can hold still for a couple minutes?

[asas]

[ another darkblood actually wanting to help him felt like a laughable feat. he won’t know how to really explain it later, when december comes to pass or if some paleblood calms him down a little— shōyō huffs, but ends up spitting a coagulated mouthful of blood to the trenchwood floors.

he just had to wait for his omen. that was all. he’s sure she’s coming back after the first call, so the shock of reality in not being able to do anything but flail made his volume level lower— but not ease up. shōyō still feels completely hostile as he feels threatened, with reason, and is sure to keep his arms close to his head with balled fists. ]

So you can gut me up and use me as zombie bear bait?

[ he’s had to run from a zombie bear, thanks! as long as palamedes keeps a safe distance from shōyō’s body and to the tree as he says, he won’t get a punch thrown at him. ]

[megatheorem]

[Okay. So it's going to go like this, huh. Palamedes sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose where his glasses have slipped down. Okay — he's being understanding, definitely. He completely grasps the need to be defensive.

But ooh, people who complain about free help. Guy.]

What the hell would I do with a zombie bear? Do I look like I can carry a bear carcass around, besides?

[He does not. Not at all. He sidles closer to the tree in the meantime.]

Don't answer either of those, by the way; you're just going to have to trust that I'm not trying to kill you. Here —

[He makes a gesture with his hands, folding his fingers together. The effect is not an instant relief of any kind, he can't exactly control gravity, but he can pinch closed a bleeding wound from a distance. The dripping stops.

Palamedes makes another gesture, this one as if to say, See?]

There! I'm not a trained medic, but it's the same concept as holding somebody still. Just on a smaller scale. As long as you don't distract me from getting up this tree, I can hold your worst lacerations shut for a while. It's simple work.

[Perhaps the real trap is having to listen to him ramble. There's something to be said for a captive audience, ha ha...]

[asas]

[ that’s . . . true . . . and some may blame the lack of rational thinking on being upside down for so long, but the truth is, shōyō really is that stupid. because this guy doesn’t need to haul bear carcass around. he can keep it as a pet for nefarious reasons . . . exactly.

through the slight surprise in shōyō’s blinking, he offers next a harsh squint as he tries to lift his head to ease the building pressure. no more bleeding. no more dripping.

can he really trust this guy—? it looks like one of the better ways out of this— and, since the threat in shōyō is temporarily stabilized, so is the return of picanha. on the same tree and landing on one of the lower branches with a flutter, the crow croaks. she’s holding a dazzling letter opener in her beak.

come on, it was supposed to be a knife. ]

I’ll sick my omen on you if you’re lying.

[ a bird holding a letter opener looks very intimidating indeed. caw! ]

[megatheorem]

[Palamedes, in trying to figure out how one climbs a tree, has made it to putting one hand and one foot up on said tree, and that's it. That's as far as he's gotten by the time the fancy letter opener with a bird attached comes back, which he spares - a glance.

Can't lose focus. It's tree time. His own omen pops out of the hood of his grey robe to get in on this action, skittering briefly down his arm and then back up it to cling more or less to the back of his neck and stare at the crow.

Palamedes hauls himself, with effort, high enough up to get a leg up over a branch, a feat mostly achieved by being already very tall. There's a lot of scuffing and huffing and puffing involved, anyway. He's a death wizard, not an athlete.]

Don't— don't waste that letter opener on me. If I lose my balance, the ground will take care of me for you. How's your head?

[asas]

. . . Feels like a water balloon.

[ the response is closer to a mumble here than any of the earlier yelling. cautious and suspicious as he was, watching him actually try to calm the tree, it made him positively antsy. not because he wanted to get free (well, that too—), but let’s be very real: he would’ve climbed that tree by now if it were him. palamedes and his sticks got nothing on him and it makes shōyō want to do it for him.

just, hah, can’t. you know. picanha gets the message, though, and being the clever girl she was, decided it best to threaten the man’s feet with her blunt weapon. well, tease. ]

Never climbed a tree when you were a kid?

[megatheorem]

[Palamedes, who has managed to wriggle himself onto sort of, like — flopped onto his stomach, on this branch, looks down at the feisty bird with a look that means to inquire, did he not just say? Not to waste the letter opener here? Did he not say that clearly?

God! Okay! He wiggles his foot - only a little, he's not going to kick a bird - and huffs, impatient and already over-exerted by this climb.]

I grew up in a Library, so no. [That's capital-L Library, please be aware, that part is important.] The first time I saw real wood I was thirteen, and it wasn't even still in a tree.

[—And also!! The bird!] You heard me when I mentioned having to focus. Would you kindly ask your associate to back off? I'm getting distracted.

[Not from the wound magic, technically, but having his feet swatted at by a bird with a letter opener isn't helping the climbing part.]

[asas]

[ a library? well, god damn, that’s the first he’s ever heard. if there were more room for it past the swollenness, shōyō would’ve for sure put his brows in a kink.

but, fine— shōyō clicks his tongue loudly (and probably spits in the progress; his cheeks are huge), and after picanha has given the man a taste of her mischief, she takes off to land on shōyō’s heel, all the way up. she desperately wants to get him down, hitting the blade of the letter opener uselessly against rope so thick. she tried her best. ]

Think she just wants you to go faster. [ they. they want him to go faster. it’s shōyō’s anxiety to get things done for yesterday that has her so agitated to begin with. after a stretch of silence in allowing the other a few more inches upwards (hopefully), shōyō considers what’s being done in full, and ends up lowering his guard by a couple of inches. if this guy was really trying to help him, which was what it looked like— he should play his part in being patient.

it’s hard, considering his blood is only hands away from boiling point. but he could manage— he knows meditation, and maybe he should put it to some use. ]

You never . . . [ another reason to keep talking, maybe; a surge of weight presses him down and makes his consciousness feel heavy. his mouth is dry. he feels just a touch sick again, but puts in effort to finish: ] went outside?

[megatheorem]

Well, my condolences to her, but this is as fast as I'm capable of going.

[Harumph, etc. If his cavalier were around she'd have handled this already with a well-placed swing of a blade, but Palamedes is out by his lonesome, and so this mediocre climbing is what they all have to deal with right now. He wriggles up onto the next branch and huffs, rubbing his hands for a moment; they're already sore. It is a shambles up here in this tree.]

And no, I didn't. If you can guard your head at all, now would be the time to do it.

[Which is a warning, but it's not so immediate as he makes it sound. He's within reach of the rope and he's got a... it's a scalpel, okay, he's got a little scalpel to saw through it with, but there's going to be about a minute's wait.

After that minute, though, is necromancer brand mercy: Palamedes holds a hand out palm down, and while nothing seems to happen, the drop from tree branch to ground is, well, not: instead it's a much shorter drop to the invisible ward he's placed horizontally some handful of feet off the ground. It's not soft, sorry about that, but it's not a drop headfirst all the way down to the dirt.

He surveys his patient from up in this tree... How did it go.....]

Well?

[asas]

[ okay, it’s time. time to focus, and shōyō knows how to do that when it’s needed. he does as he’s told, a little faster now, the news giving him one more little spark before he’d go limp in a few minutes. he gives breathing in deep the best shot he could, slow and not entirely up in full from the burn his ribs would give just at the try of expanding. he breathes in what he can, at least, and covers the back of his head with both arms.

the fall is a short one, and not one shōyō would complain about. he just got beaten to a pulp, he’s used to seal diving onto floors and much more.a short little fall for the price of freedom was little to pay. at last, shōyō falls with a thump and a grunt, gritting out the pain of his side that felt a good bulk of the impact.

oh, it didn’t matter. he was free. shōyō holds in the urge to shout because he’s too busy trying to swallow the hurt, but picanha does half the honors for him: she cries up a storm as the warmblood sits up halfway, throws his fists into the air and gives palamedus the longest, approving glare he could get.



that’s it, that’s his answer. ]

[megatheorem]

[Well.

Okay. That's a response. Palamedes looks at him in silence for a beat, distinctly surprised he can even manage this much movement in the state he's in, then — laughs, shaking his head. Okay!]

You're welcome. Can you hop down from there without breaking anything? I need to drop the ward.

[And get down from this tree, but priorities first. The ward is small and simple enough, but being unused to how this place mucks with necromancy, he doesn't want to burn all of his reserves on one little thing.

Also, he's starting to sweat blood? That's fine. Please get down from there, dude.]

For the sake of it, let's pretend the ward's a trap; that way I can call this a success and keep ignoring that old chestnut. Go ahead and escape.

[that's not how any of this works but hey, why not]

[asas]

[ now, to get his arms down without stinging . . . near impossible. that’s why he does it slowly and still has it hurting. with a grunt, shōyō drags the rest of him up and throws his feet onto the edge so he can finally stand on the floor again. it was a wobbly landing and he ends up stumbling onto his side— but that’s some small stuff to deal with. he’s free from it, thanks to this guy.

. . . “go ahead and escape”; though shōyō knew it was wise he get the hell out of here, he still pauses as he rights himself and cradles his ribs. well, was it a good idea to go alone? picanha was with him now— with a letter opener. ]

But— how do I find you?

[megatheorem]

[Palamedes, meanwhile, has begun the arduous process of getting himself down from this tree branch without a) getting his robe stuck, or b) totally slipping and knocking his head on every branch on the way down. Camilla would have a field day, so he's extra careful, a phrase here which means "incredibly slow and awkward about it," like, again, a guy who has never climbed a dang tree before.

So it's with his limbs in all kinds of places that he pauses, grunts uncomfortably, and looks over at his non-escaping buddy!! Does he not say things for reasons! Hngh--]

For — what purpose? Medical attention? I can't make you any more comfortable than I already have — damn it. [fuck!!!!] You'll start bleeding again if you get too far from me. Never mind; don't escape.

[Just let him - hobble out of this tree... just a second... a few more seconds... there. Harrowing. He rubs his hands together, frowning at the legitimate damage they've taken from tree climbing. Sigh.]

I'm trapping you all the way to the nearest clinic. Let's go.

[asas]

[ he’s even gone to one man + one crow to two guys, a bird and a squirrel (because aren’t those what sugar gliders are??? in shōyō’s head). shōyō isn’t about to object, since that deals with figuring out the identity of this chap (that shouldn’t be more important than escaping, but now it is). despite palamedus and his horrible climbing skills, he still climbed the damned thing, got clonked on the way down and set a warmblood free.

as much as shōyō was angry, maybe he’s too worn to feel anything rotten toward the guy, as dark as his blood was, who saved his skin. ]

Hey, [ he claps a heavy hand on the other’s shoulder— using him for balance, while he’s at it. ] thanks for getting me out of that.

[ his breathing is weird and raspy, and he can only see out of the squint his eyes are, but— ]

You’ve never seen a tree in your life and you still did all that, so— Do it. Trap me in a hospital.

[ in a “you’ve earned it” sort of tone. ah, maybe shōyō heard the tree part wrong. ]

[megatheorem]

[Oh — Palamedes makes a soft noise of surprise at the hand, lifting his own hand as a precautionary measure in case his new buddy just topples right over. It's mostly a hoverhand, given that Palamedes is not even robust enough to be a good cushion to fall on; if one of them goes down they're both hitting the ground at full force.

With his other hand he wiggles his sleeve down to wipe his face with; it comes away red, he ignores this. Instead he looks around before taking a slow step in the best guestimate direction of Lumenwood, for the hospital.]

I've seen trees. [you know, because,] I've been here nearly a month now, there are trees everywhere.

[But really, he's from an underground bunker library and didn't go outside, that part was all true.]

Still; you're welcome. We're not, and I am fully intending this pun, out of the woods yet. How many fingers am I holding up?

[(it's four)]

[asas]

[ puns are good. that was a good pun. what wasn’t good was shōyō’s vision at the very moment. was he squinting? trying to open his eyes? you can’t tell. both of them are swollen to a purple shine starting from the brow and eyelid. he may get this answer wrong, even if he wasn’t feeling dizzy.

(he was, now that he was on his feet, but that’s not the point)

considering it unfair, given the circumstance, shōyō lifts his hands to grab at the fingers being held at him, then counts each one by touch. ]

Umdoistres—Quatro. [ and a swollen stare of silence: ] And it’s not cheating.

[megatheorem]

[Oh, yep, that's - that's his hand? Palamedes makes a face like this is a little awkward, at best, but he patiently waits for his fingers to get counter. He doesn't even sneakily add another, he's very tolerant of this grabbing.]

Didn't say it was. It helps if you can get it by sight alone, but as long as you can count — and I'm pretty sure whatever you said was numbers in the right order, I'll give you the points for it.

[Now there are Points.]

Do you remember your name and where you are? I'm trying to establish a baseline of how bruised your melon got, not to put too fine a point on it. And I'll probably ask you to count something again soon, so don't be surprised.

[asas]

[ points . . . ! shoyo practically perks up at points and wants to ask how many? for the sake of being sporty (and competitive). his noggin, on the other hand, hurts a ton and he can get dizzy, but it might not be so bad— it looks worse than it is. he'd gotten plenty of cover from his poor arms and ribs. ]

My name's Shoyo, uh, in someplace, [ "someplace". not because he doesn't know, but he just readily forgot. ah, this is getting more and more alarming, isn't it? ]. . . But I don't remember yours. Crap—

[ he, in the limitations his brows are placed in to be expressive, seems that he's mildly distressed about forgetting his name. "forgetting", when he's never actually heard it in the first place.

(he thinks?) ]

[megatheorem]

[Hmm, yes, Palamedes has some concerns. Not knowing the name of the place is... definitely a concern? Unless, he supposes, this guy showed up maybe this morning, but it doesn't seem like new squid time. He'll circle back.]

Well, I'd be surprised if you did. [A beat. Relax, bud.] It's Palamedes.

[Is that... hard, he wonders, for the first time ever.]

'Warden' is fine, too, if you prefer.

[He holds up six fingers this time, three and three, a fun little private joke for himself in the midst of his own introduction.]

How many now?

[asas]

[ don’t worry pal, he just really did forget it was “trench” before the catch. now, what’s worse . . . his name. that shōyō starts and twists at, horridly: ]

Palamumuh. Pala— hm. Palameduhbruh. Pala . . . [ no, no, too difficult. and warden made him imagine someone huge and shadowy guarding a gate, so— ] Pal.

[ that’s better. shōyō will gladly limp along now, he looks for the finger and counts three each. three each. this is definitely a trick question and shōyō breathes out a hah, as if he saw right through a scheme (though not without coughing— ack, breathes too hard, ribs stung). ]

Three. Nice try.

[ what’s brain damage and what’s jock stupidity? palamedes will have a time figuring it out. ]

[megatheorem]

[... Pal, yes. That's fine. His brow furrows over a strained smile, like, in what world would this be a trick question—]

Alright. No, actually.

[How about this, then: four on one hand and two on the other. Please, there are no tricks, this is just a math problem. Not even.]

Why would you think that was three? Don't answer that — here, how many is this? Total. Both of them at the same time.

[asas]

A trick trick—?!

[ an exasperated sigh; that was a loss, and shōyō is quite the competitive little thing! ]

Four-two. Four and two, five . . . Sssssix. [ and, you know what? he is going to answer that list one! ] They were both three before so, like . . . Three.

[megatheorem]

[dude. buddy. homie.]

Why do you think three plus three is still three?

[He holds up the three-and-three fingers again, and very pointedly, just... touches his hands together in the middle. Does this. Change things. Now it's one megahand.]

It's a math problem. I'm trying to ascertain how likely it is you have brain damage, not fool you about how many apples I have if I give away five and take nine more. How many fingers is this?

[asas]

[ okay, now he’s feeling his stupid showing and it’s embarrassing him! he still has to pause every time the fingers come, gaping his mouth to say something before immediately sucking up air to count, ]

—Six, okay! They were separate before and totally the same number! I didn’t see, like, a plus sign in the middle, [ grumbling ] how should I know you wanted math!

[megatheorem]

I asked you how many there were; it was implied.

[Like. Why wouldn't it. You know, okay, never mind. He splays out all his fingers in a placating gesture, an okay, okay, then puts one hand on Shoyo's shoulder to steer him back towards the path to a clinic. Come on...]

Never mind; your brain is fine enough. Let's get you out of the cold; do you want a cocoa? I'll bring you one when we get to the clinic.

[asas]

[ cocoa? getting him warm and cleaned up and bandages and medicated? yes, but cocoa is the first things out of all of those he truly hears. ]

. . . Uh-huh.

[ he might snot-nosed cry all over the place as he limped about and hugged his ribs, but at least he’s silent about it. all of the event is. . . settling in, and such.this is the worst beat he’s ever taken, but it’s the best type of salvage, too.

pal is going to hear a lot of thank yous at the clinic. ]

[megatheorem]

[Oh boy, tears. Palamedes doesn't interrupt, merely offering a guiding hand on the shoulder to keep them going in the right direction. Who is he to deny a man his emotional weeping...

At the clinic he sticks around long enough to make sure somebody takes Shoyo somewhere to handle the worst of his injuries, and then he does dip, as promised, to find The Cocoa. It's in a styrofoam cup and has not a single marshmallow, but it's hot and it's sweet, so that's going to have to do for now. When he brings it back, he seems to have also acquired a sticker - a cartoon blood drop giving a thumbs up and a big smile, who knew - and stuck it to the side.

It's the little things. Now that he's, ah, trapped him in this clinic, haha... The compulsion doesn't really matter anymore; now he simply feels responsible for looking after the guy. It was the weeping.]

How are you doing?

[asas]

[ when palamedes returns, he’ll find shōyō with puffy red eyes, but mostly sound— staring into a nonspecific spot at the corner of one of the hallways. hence, not actually noticing the man until his nose caught the whiff and his eyes snapped to the first possible figure responsible.

hah. the mug. it’s cute. cute enough that shōyō’s lips quirk high despite the circumstance; to that, and to see that the one who’s still holding it is still actually around, and kept to his cocoa contract. ]

Hospitals mean you get benched, back home. And I’ve only ever gotten into a fight once— With my high school partner. [ and god, does he hate getting benched. but, that wasn’t the point! ever the talkative one and quietly grasping for socialization wherever he went, especially now. it was actually how he felt differently in this bed, cleaned, bandaged, wrapped and given stints where needed: lightly suspended ankle and his left arm, specifically. ] But it feels . . . Safer, here. M’doing better.

[ like he’d be okay, and for an indefinite time, it might be the best place for him to stay. getting benched from practice was not a priority, as much as it stung to think so. ]

Thanks, dude.