soddersays | AUGUST 2019 TEST DRIVE MEME

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AUGUST 2019 TEST DRIVE MEME

Welcome to August's Test Drive Meme! This month's Test Drive's theme is: DYSTOPIAN HORROR.

All Test Drive Memes contain at least one clue to the Deerington's upcoming in-game events for the month! Keep your eyes peeled! But...not literally.

Characters may die during TDMs, but you do not need to count it towards a game-canonical death unless you want to. Consider it a freebie. All TDMs can be considered game canon as TDMs introduce minor aspects about the world of Deerington that can be revisited by characters later on in the game. You may also use TDMs for your application writing sample as well as AC.

CW: Physical violence, monster violence, creepy ogre-like monster in link, being hunted by a monster.
Don't forget to tag content whenever necessary. Have fun!

Prompt One
Prompt Two
Character Arrival
Master Navigation

BLOOD IN MY VEINS

With supplies low and food getting even more scarce, things in Deerington, Maine seem to be getting that much more tense. For those who pay attention to the habits of the townspeople, there’s something that might add to that feeling of stress; all of them seem to be involved in some kind of physical training, whether it’s archery, hand-to-hand combat, or fighting with firearms, they all seem like they’re getting ready for something and it definitely feels like it might be something big.

But no one wants to train against a townsperson - it’s highly likely they’re not going to fight fair with the way they’re all glaring at the Sleepers, as though they’re to blame for everything that’s been going on. Unless you’re sparring with people in your own backyard though, it seems like there isn’t any space to get your own training in.

The Betties are starting to pop up around town pretty regularly, waiting until they find Sleepers on their own, and quietly waving for them to come closer. “You need to prepare,” they’ll whisper to you in hushed urgency, before grabbing your hand to try and get you to follow them. If you fight, they’ll insist only once more, before leaving you alone. But there’s something inside of you urging you to comply and follow.

They’ll lead you down an alley, pushing aside a large dumpster, and revealing a trap door in the middle of the concrete. You’ve never noticed it before, even if you’ve been down this alley a hundred times. The Betty leading you leans down, pulling it open, and the ladder that goes into the tunnel is long and dimly lit. You could leave now, but the Betty will insist this is for the best.

“Knock twice. No more or less. Show them what you’re made of.”

Once you get to the bottom of the ladder, there’s an equally long hallway that leads towards a closed metal door. You knock twice and the door shakes before sliding open. The light that comes through is almost blinding with how bright it is compared to the dim tunnel, but as your eyes adjust, you can finally step in to a fully stocked training room.

There are instructors in basics for beginners, areas for intermediate, and most abundantly there are one-on-one sparring areas. The moment you come close enough, you’ll be immediately paired with another Sleeper, and the two of you will be locked in the room together to be observed. You could choose to not fight, of course, but you’ll be stuck there for a good long while if you do. It might be best to just get it over and done with.

So feel free to help others who seem to be struggling or show off your strength for everyone to see. It looks like everyone is going to need to be ready for some kind of fight.

I AM THE GREAT UNKNOWN

Maybe you got knocked out during a fight or maybe you fell asleep in your own bed - or maybe you don’t even remember closing your eyes at all, especially if you don’t usually have the ability to go unconscious for one reason or another. No matter the cause, everyone will wake up in the same place, surrounded by tall, thick hedges in the middle of a... maze?

It doesn’t take you long to realize you aren’t the only one waking up, too. Someone is next to you and it seems like you’re stuck finding your way out of here together. Literally. On each of your wrists is a metal cuff with a long chain connecting them. It can’t be broken, no matter how strong a person is or how powerful a weapon or spell they try to use against it. You’re in this together whether you want to be or not.

Once you can pick a direction to head in, it seems like this might almost be boring - that is until you start to hear the sounds of rustling leaves and breaking twigs. At first it seems like it might just be a trick to spook you, but the more you ignore it, the louder it gets, until finally you see it, charging down the row at you, scythe raised and ready to strike.

You can try to fight, of course, but it’s hard when you’re chained to one another. Learn to work together quickly and maybe you can make it work. It seems to go down with normal attacks, though it takes a long time to get the creature to fall unless you cut off the head. Ultimately your best interest might be set in running as fast as you can to get away. You can lose it in the maze if you’re quick about it. But then you might also be lost yourself.

If you do manage to lose the monster rather than killing it, stay quiet and you might not attract its attention again. It may take a while to find the end of the maze. The hedges feel like they stretch on forever and the sun is blaring down. You’d think there would be shade with all the height of the bushes, but there’s no relief from the heat. Hopefully you don’t burn easy.

When you get to the end of the maze, the two of you will come up on three doors. One door will lead out of the maze and back into the center of Deerington, cuff free. Another door will lead you right back to the beginning, forcing you to start again. And what’s behind door number three...?

The monster, of course.

Choose wisely.

Character Arrival

You can read how all characters arrive in Deerington here.

There is not a collective "all these characters showed up at the exact same moment" occurrence in Deerington. Since characters fall asleep, die, or pass out at various times throughout all their worlds, it wouldn't make too much sense if they arrived in game all at the exact same time. There should be some discrepancy between character arrival, whether by a couple minutes, hours, or even days up to a week.

The players are entirely in control of how/when they want to play their characters arriving in Deerington. For TDMs, you can play it like your character has just arrived and that can be maintained as your game canon, or you can wait until game events for that moment. Or you don't need to acknowledge it at all. The flexibility for character allows a bit more of an organic feel to the character arrival situation, so please play it to whatever feels right for you.

If you are interested in having an "arrival" introduction for one of your TDM prompts, you are more than welcome to explore that option.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(TMD Rnd 2)

[The feeling of grass prickling at the back of his neck is an unexpected sensation for a man who's fairly certain he closed his eyes on the wood-frame sofa in his cabin. The air feel damp and foggy when Logan’s eyes snap open and he’s definitely not where he left himself. But for better or worse, it looks like his friend is still here with him.]

Kurt? [The chain on his wrist has him lashed to his friend.] Wake up, bub. I got some bad news and some good news…

[His voice stays low and quiet as he shakes Kurt gently at the shoulder. Between the well manicured hedges stretching up around them and the low fog, hanging in the corridors of this garden path the visibility is so low that if Logan had hackles they'd already be rising. ]

[ To Kurt it feels as if barely a moment has passed since he closed his eyes, drifting into a dark dreamless place, when he feels the a sensation of being jostled and Logan's voice, soft and concerned --

It's cold, and there's grass under his palms as he blinks his eyes open. He sees tall hedges and drifting fog. For a moment, he barely takes it in, so unexpected is the view. Then he turns his head, and sits up a little on one elbow. ]

Was.. where are we? [ His look takes in Logan's face, the chain. ] What happened?

[It’s such a short length of chain Logan has between his hands that you can almost see the concern he hasn’t voiced. It’s dangerous to be this close to him on the best of occasions. He can’t imagine whatever’s forced them into this predicament has good intentions. ]

Beats me, Elf. Is this is even in Deerington, I’ve never seen it.

[When he goes still, he clutched those links in his hands to keep them silenced. Trying to make sense of that distance scraping sound. Something dragging maybe? He puts a finger to his lips.]

Shh. We’re not alone.

[ There are few things more alarming than the Wolverine going still. Kurt has become somewhat used to it over the years, but he can't suppress the fear that Logan's expression sparks in him.

He pulls himself up a little, shifting carefully into his habitual crouching position, trying his best to stop the chain from rattling. Glancing from Logan to the hedges, he blinks wide eyes. ]

Was ist das? Other people?

[That grinding sound gets nearer and nearer until the clarity of it makes him picture something like someone dragging a shovel. It seems to pass just on the other side of the wall around them, getting further again for a moment. It's circling, without a doubt. But there's no way to know if it's on the right path or finding it's way in this place by trial and error.

It's tempting to think it's another sleeper. Someone just like them, just as lost as they are. And then he gets the scent of it. A sharp, acrid smell that stings his nose like sick.

If they run, they could run right into it around the next corner. If his claws come out, Kurt gets cut.

The dragging noise halts and he closes his palm over Kurt's mouth, dragging them both into the cover of the hedges around them.]

[ The sound grows until it's loud enough for Kurt to hear it as well. He doesn't need to read the concern in Logan's face to understand that this thing is big and not something he particularly wants to meet.

He crouches beside Logan as it passes them, wide-eyed, the fur on the back of his neck prickling, his tail whisking the air.

Then, worse still than the noise of its passage -- it stops. Kurt is about to suggest they make an escape when Logan's hand closes over his mouth and he pulls them both back into the hedge. After a split second of confusion, Kurt lets him do it, relying on years of trusting the man's instincts.

The hedge is dense and uncomfortable, branches scratching as they pull back inside it. Kurt flattens himself back against Logan, heart pounding and breathing a little hard around his hand as they hide like rabbits waiting for a wolf to pass them by. ]

[Hiding is not exactly Logan’s modus operandi, but for the time being he hasn’t got a better plan if he cannot risk making himself the resident meat shield.

With Kurt’s back against his chest, he can only hope they’re quiet enough or that the thing rounding the corner out of the fog isn’t as good a hunter as he is. It smells like something decomposing and the scraping sound quickly becomes clear— the long scythe it carries is dragged by its gnarled handle. The battered blade of which scrapes and skips along the ground at its side.

It’s a long uncomfortable wait, tangled in each other and the brambles until it’s out of reach of them by both scent and sound.]

C’mon. Let’s put some distance between us while we figure out how the fuck to get out these cuffs.

[He whispers the words nearly flush against Kurt’s ear because it’s a hopeful idea at best when neither of them have any real understanding of just how recursive these paths are.]

[ Kurt sees a little of the monster through the leaves and branches of the hedge as it passes them by, a glimpse of gnarled skin and jagged claws. Even he can smell it as it gets closer, making him grateful for Logan's solid weight pressed against his back him and the heavy warmth of his arms. His tail twines around Logan's leg, instinctively seeking comfort in the other man's presence.

Finally, as the creature disappears into the fog, Logan seems to relax a little. Kurt nods slightly at his words, though he finds himself reluctant to want to leave the safety of the hedge -- and, he has to admit to himself, Logan's embrace. It takes a moment before he's able to pull himself away from him and step carefully out into the foggy corridor once more.

Some brave hero, he thinks to himself.

He glances back at his friend, eyes bright in the gloom. When he speaks his voice is a low whisper. ]

Logan, if we need to fight that thing, you must not stop just because I.. I might.. [ He can't bring himself to say it, but he saw Logan measuring the length of the chain; remembers the room and the cuts on his hands. ] I am willing to do whatever is needed.

They tread lightly as they can clamouring out of the living architecture that’s confines them here, but it’s staying perfect silent with a chain between them is no small feat. Comfortably on their feet, he lets Kurt ease out of his grasp as Logan’s attention turns to the still, damp air. It’s good for tracking if nothing else.

When Kurt speaks, Logan’s brow furrows. They both know full well what his best purpose and perhaps best shot at getting them out of this is. But if he can make some better use of himself for once, this seems like a worthwhile opportunity to try. He turns a glare on his friend that makes him look frustrated just to entertain what Kurt’s suggesting.]

I don’t care what you’re willing. There’s more than one way to skin a cat.
Or whatever the fuck that is.

[Tugging lightly on their attached arms, they head off making turns that take them farther from the source of that smell.]

C’mon. Let’s keep moving on scent. Put some distance between us while we look for an exit.

[ Kurt swallows his own frustration, knowing that it's useless to push Logan to try to agree with him. The man's pride is almost as hard as his bones.

Instead, Kurt walks beside him, realising after a little while that it's strangely uncomfortable to not be able to 'port ahead or scale the hedge to see what's going on. He's not used to feeling so.. tethered. His tail lashes the air, betraying his discomfort.

After a little while and a few turns through the hedges -- which all seem to look alike -- he glances sideways at Logan and offers a suggestion in a low voice. ]

Perhaps you could try to break the chain with your claws? I wouldn't mind the cuts, and it might be better if I could climb up and see what's going on.

[It’s strange to think they’re both right here, about as close as they could be, and neither one of them can be any real help to one another. This place has a way of wadding up one’s usefulness and making you choke on it.

The fog is still heavy and cool, but at least for a momentary trace of that creature stalking around is no small distance away. It’s something to relax about, but it also serves as an unpleasant reminder that he’s got no idea just how much area this maze stretches. The temptation to pop his claws and just rake a new path though these walls is only as strong as his desire to take it easy on the man joined to his wrist. If he’s been quiet all this time it’s only because he hasn’t stopped trying to think through an answer in the hopes one will present itself around the next corner.]

I could… [He mumbles noncommittally, none too thrilled with the idea that even to be helpful he’s going to cause his friend’s pain. How the hell can it be that it’s gotten somehow more dangerous just to be near him? And who the hell decided that, of all the people he knows, it’s Kurt who deserves to be the collateral damage in his life next?

Coming to a stop he double checks the sounds and the scents in the fog and heaves a heavy-hearted sigh. Patting down his pockets unravels a tattered red handkerchief and starts an easy tear from the frayed edge.]

Gimmie your hands. I don’t know which one’s gonna get cut. If it’s mirrored or exact… [With Kurt’s permission he ties each strip across his knuckles. It’s worthless, he thinks. But it’s all he can do to assuage a wound he’s about to cause.]

[Pulling on the chain until it’s taut between them. His claws come out with a swift snkit. Gentle was his first thought, but rather than prolong the pain he’d rather get this over with. The sound of adamantium on whatever metal that binds them is so coarse and grating that it’s hard to imagine it didn’t break their bonds. But even after two, three strikes there’s little more than scuff marks and Logan looks increasingly frantic. Surely they didn’t do this for no good reason at all.]

No… nonono. No! NO!

[ Kurt lets Logan bandage his hands, though he's fairly certain he can handle the cuts -- he's dealt with much worse on the battlefield and kept going. But Logan seems to need it, seems to want the ability to help, to do something besides create pain. Kurt can more than understand that; it's one of the things he loves most about him. So he puts his hands in Logan's gentle grip and watches the fabric bind his knuckles.

The makeshift bandage is tight as he raises his hand a little, pulling the chain so it's taut. Short, so short, compared to the distance Logan had walked in the little basement room. Kurt feels a tiny thrill of fear in his belly as Logan straightens his wrist, and that ever-familiar noise --

It doesn't hurt, at first, but as Logan strikes the chain it starts to build between Kurt's knuckles, burning, as Logan's flesh tries and fails to heal around the claws. He'd never noticed it before, hadn't had reason to, the way Logan's healing factor deals with the triple blades that jut from his hands. But he feels it now, and tries his best not to let it show.

The chain vibrates and jerks as Logan hacks at it. His expression goes from frustrated to outright panicked, a rare enough expression for him that the tiny flame of fear in Kurt's gut dials up a notch. Kurt reacts almost instinctively, reaching out, making the chain slack but unable to stop himself from putting a hand on Logan's shoulder, consoling. ]

Logan! Logan, please! It's not going to work, mein Freund.

[He knows that a man who’s literally been to heaven and back doesn’t need his trifling. Kurt’s endured as much as anyone and only comes out stronger for it. Those makeshift bandages do more more to protect Logan’s guilt than his friend’s hands.

It’s not the impossible strength of the chains that shocks him into some kind of tunnel vision. It’s his stubborn refusal to believe this was for naught, it’s the spilling of Kurt’s blood, it’s the fucking futility of this bearing down on him that suddenly makes him feel like an animal in a trap with no other option than to gnaw off his own limb. Which right now seems like the next worthwhile possibility.

He can’t cut through his own bones any more than the chain of course. But the idea that he could carve off enough of his own flesh that it might at least get his hand through the cuff comes upon him in all the time it takes to bring his fist down again, flaying his thumb with one of his claws just in time to feel Kurt’s hand on his shoulder.

As quickly as he got carried away Kurt’s voice brings him back to the reality he’s inflicting on both of them.]

FUCK! This is BULLSHIT!

[He barks like he’s completely given up on their previous stealthy and slowhanded approach.]

[ Kurt knows that look. He's seen it a thousand times, usually right before a giant robot gets gutted from the inside out or a pile of Hand ninja realise the painful way that they've messed with the wrong man. Baleful and full of anger. He knows Logan calls it the Berserker, and that's what it is. The haunted and broken part of Logan's soul finding release in blood.

His claws scythe through the air, catching the light along their gleaming edges as he cuts down -- then flinches away, yelling. ]

Logan -- [ It's all Kurt gets out before Logan's healing factor kicks in and the wound appears along Kurt's thumb, a red line through his blue fur drawn by a ghostly hand, bright and a brief flash of white bone. Kurt yelps, an animal sound, at the pain, clapping his palm over the injury as blood begins to run out between his fingers onto the grass. ]

[Unintentional as it is, Kurt’s recoiling pulls Logan’s own hand out of the path of another strike from his own claws. Instead they lodge into the ground and Logan is jarred out of his fury at the sound of his friend’s pain.]

Oh shit— Kurt!

[First aid is not his strong suit. He can distinctly remember making Hank cringing over some of his makeshift tourniquets and field dressings. Still, the blood seeping through Kurt’s fingers makes him desperate to do something, and worried that any effort to undo the mess he’s made will be just as quickly rebuffed. Why would anyone trust his hands now, after all?]

I’m sorry, I’m sorry… [His babbled apologies bring his voice back down to a whisper as he closes his hands tightly around Kurt’s forearm to quell the flow of blood to his hand.]

Keep pressure. We’ll tie it with something. I shouldn’t have… No, more of that. It’s not worth it. We’ll figure something else out.

[ Kurt's no stranger to pain. In the course of his career he's faced injuries of every sort, not to mention the small matter of surviving his own death (more or less). But he's never really become used to it, at least not in the way that some of his friends have.

He tries, though, for Logan's sake. His palm is hot and slippery with his own blood as he raises it, keeping it pressed hard on the wound, knowing enough of medicine to help staunch the flow of blood. The pain pulses in his hand in time with his heartbeat. He looks at Logan, his lambent eyes steady though his voice is strained. ]

It's OK, Logan. It's.. not your fault. It's this place, what it's done to your powers. [ He pants a little, then grins, hard and desperate. ] It is going to make watching you shave even more of an adventure, I can tell.

Edited 2019-08-05 01:16 (UTC)

Don’t. Don’t do that. [His muttering brushes off Kurt’s reassurances. The fear and loathing people harbour for him isn’t exactly unjustified. Not a day goes by here or anywhere else that he’s not reminded of that. But what might be worse than being told exactly what people think of you, is being placated about it. Just as a struck dog cowers from a firm hand, it’s leery of a gentle one.]

This place is a shitshow, but whatever it’s doin’ to us. We’re still making’ choices…

[Rending a strip of his plaid shirt, the words sound more like a conversation he’s having with himself than anything he suspect Kurt needs to know. He wraps Kurt’s hand tightly. Enough to replace the pressure of their grip. It’s little help for the discomfort but it’s enough to stop the bleeding and give Kurt back the use of his good hand as well. By the time he’s through, Kurt’s unwavering ability to make the worst into a joke makes him smile— however much he’s trying not to. When he lets go Kurt’s hand they’re almost nose to nose and Logan’s eyes narrow suspiciously.]

You sayin’ I suck at shaving or you just like watchin’ me do it?

[With the coppery scent of blood in the air it takes a long moment, longer than he’s happy about, to pick up that low, musty rot of that creature again. Whatever trace of a smile was on his face, it’s gone.]

It’s coming back… [He puts Kurt at his back, penning him into the corner in the hedges where he put himself between Kurt and anything that might step into the corridors stretching out on either side of them.] We can’t just keep running. We don’t even know how big his place is. We gotta kill it, Elf. We can kill it.

Edited 2019-08-06 03:59 (UTC)

[ Watching Logan bristle and retreat from any kind of comfort is as painful as the throbbing in Kurt's hand.

He frowns, his eyes fixed on his friend's face as Logan tears off a strip of his shirt and wraps his thumb, barely noticing the jostling of his ministrations. What had this place done to Logan, to make him so unhappy? Before his death he had been withdrawn and quiet; Kurt and the others had given him his space to deal with his mortality in his own way, as he always had. But this was different, a kind of surrender that makes Kurt's chest ache with concern.

Even his smile is strained, and although Kurt is happy to meet it, he can't quite find the strength of heart to quip back at him.

Then Logan's head comes up again, and he's pushing Kurt back behind him. Kurt bares his teeth a little at that, not liking to feel protected when he can still fend for himself, but he cradles his injured hand and doesn't put up a fight. Logan has a point. ]

I can 'port us in. [ He offers it in a low voice, understanding that Logan won't like it but not giving him an opportunity to argue. Years of battlefield experience training for situations very much like this one rise to the fore of his mind. They are X-Men still; they won't go down quietly. ] Above it and behind, we go in quick, surprise it. It may look like a verdammt demon, but few things can survive without a head, and I'll wager this thing isn't among them.

[ He reaches out with his uninjured hand to touch Logan's shoulder with his fingertips. ] Let me do this, mein Freund. I don't want to die on my knees.

Don’t you dare. [He snarls over his shoulder. It’s a knee jerk reaction if ever there was one and few people can talk him out of a temperamental response like Kurt can. He knows, perhaps better than most, that Kurt can handle himself. He’s seen his this man through more trials than most ever expect someone as unwaveringly positive as Kurt could have ever lived. But in some ways, thats all the more reason to hold on more tightly now. He wasn’t there when Bastion took him from everyone. Hell, was barely there to welcome him home before they were pulled their separate ways again. Deerington doesn’t grant many wishes. But having Kurt here feels like a gift. One he intends not to squander for once.]

[He looks truly worried when his gaze falls to that hand on his shoulder, but the touch lowers his hackles some.]

You’d rather die halfway between here and another dimension?

[If there was time for a heart to heart about it, they might reach a less prickly understanding, but it’s undeniable Kurt’s gifts are tailor made for this one. Hell, for all they know he can port himself right out of their chains. It’s not quiet a concession, but it’s the closest anyone can hope to get from a stubborn Wolverine.]

Just… don’t go so far I can’t reach you.

Edited 2019-08-06 20:29 (UTC)

[ Kurt can tell he's trying. If they had been anywhere else, he might have backed down, allowed Logan a little room to take control and do things his way. But as it is, they have no choice.

He slides his uninjured hand down Logan's arm takes his hand. Squeezes it briefly, trying to put as much warmth in his touch as his voice. ]

Never again, mein Freund.

[ As if summoned, the monster picks that moment to reappear around the turn in the hedges nearby, stumbling and terrible. It roars, an inhuman sound, dragging its scythe up to bear on them.

Kurt draws in a breath to steady himself, readying his body for the pain he knows will come. He steps in close behind Logan, settling one hand on each of his shoulders, his tail wrapping around Logan's ankle. It's his turn to murmur in Logan's ear. ]

Get ready, Liebchen.

[ Setting his jaw, he runs a series of quick mental calculations picks a point a little above and behind where the monster will be with its next lurching step, and leans on that instinctive internal switch --

BAMF

They come out already falling, dropping onto the back of the monster. Kurt's world immediately washes red with pain as something in his insides seizes. He tries to twist his body to take advantage of their momentum but his muscles are cramped, agonised, and he ends up tumbling into both Logan and the creature, hoping desperately that Logan has been able to kill it, that he's done a good job, that something has worked, as he hits the grass and rolls, senseless, his vision going dark. ]

Edited 2019-08-06 21:15 (UTC)

[That tail lashes around his leg and it’s a moment too late for Logan warn him to hold on. To say; don’t let go even after they land. Instead, his next breath is a lungful of smoke and brimstone and there’s no time to ensure they stick the landing.

Teleportation is never not disorientating. Moving like this in pairs is clumsy enough when they’re not bound together, but circumstances can forgive a less than graceful effort if it works in the long run.

So when the world comes rushing back to them, the gnarled shoulders of their hunter right at arms reach, he doesn’t hesitate to take the shot Kurt injured himself to give them. With a sudden SNIKT form both hands he lets the claws of his right dig in for grip while his comes in swinging. Raking the monster’s neck until the hideous noises fall silent and whatever vital fluids it’s gushing emit a sharp, foul smell.

The hand he’s impaled it with is hauled free by the dead weight of Kurt’s body and by either foolishness or confidence he doesn’t stop to check if it’s dead before falling to his knees at Kurt’s side.]

Elf? Kurt!

[With covered claws he hangs over his friend. Patting his cheek for a response and pressing his ear to the younger man’s chest when he gets nothing.]

C’mon. Cmonnn. You did it, Kurt. C’mon. You did it. We’re gonna get out here. Don’t make me carry you, Goddamnit!

[ Kurt drifts -- for a moment, or maybe more than a moment -- in soft warm darkness, then pain and a voice jolts him out of it, like a fish-hook under his ribs. Grass under his hands. The smell of fog and something rotten. Logan leaning over him.

Logan? But --

It takes a second for his brain to catch up as he blinks up at his friend. Blood coats the back of his tongue. He coughs, droplets of it dark on his lips; grimaces as pain cramps in his guts, his chest. His hand throbs, bright new sparks between his knuckles.

Still, he offers Logan a weak smile. ]

Didn't stick the landing.

[There have been too many moments like this one for Logan to count. And every moment like this, every time he’s ever found himself looking down hopefully at Kurt’s injured form, he’s struct with that same feeling like there’s a hole where his stomach should be.

And then his friend speaks and bit by bit, as if one vital organ at a time, Logan feels whole again. Perhaps even more reassuring than Kurt’s voice itself is the fact that he’s making jokes as soon as Logan can see the light in his eyes again.]

You kiddin’ me?
You got it just right, Elf.

[He’d rather be any place than here and has to assume Kurt’s feeling the same way, but without that thing hunting them, there’s no reason to rush and risk making the damage the younger man is doing to himself any worse. Squeezing Kurt’s hand he sits back on his heels, tension easing from his posture.]

Take it easy. We’ll find the way out when you think you can walk… If you think you can walk…

[ Kurt nods weakly at Logan's words. He doesn't like the idea of staying in this place, but he can't disguise the fact that getting up feels approximately as easy as lifting the ground from beneath his feet. At least the pain seems to be easing a little faster now -- perhaps his body is getting used to it, or maybe it's becoming easier to ignore it.

He turns his head a little, trying to see the monster nearby. ]

It's definitely dead?

Don’t rush.

[He grazes Kurt’s cheek with his knuckle, swiping away a dribble of blood. Seeing Kurt so battered never gets easier, but there’s something to be said for being here with him at least. He can hardly recall the last time they spend more than passing moments together in the wake of everything that’s happened these last few years. When relief fills his lungs its hard to decide if he should use that breath to catch up on all that they’ve missed, or just enjoy the silent closeness of a man who never asked much more of his company.]

I can check it’s pulse if it’ll make you feel better, but I’m pretty sure it’s not putting it’s head back on.

AUGUST 2019 TEST DRIVE MEME

AUGUST 2019 TEST DRIVE MEME

BLOOD IN MY VEINS

I AM THE GREAT UNKNOWN

Character Arrival

I Am The Great Unknown // cw: for gore probably.

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cw: blood/gore

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