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FIFTY ✖ VOICE
[Charles clicks on the audio feed, and it should be pretty apparent to anyone listening that something is wrong, but he's doing his level best not to act like it is. His breathing is a little labored, and he definitely sounds like he's in pain, but his voice is more or less level and controlled, focused on telling people what happened and not passing out or dying before help shows up.
All in all, he sounds way too calm for someone who just got stabbed.]
I found Senji. He's been tortured, probably at least for a few days, by his inmate. He's currently unconscious and in serious need of medical attention. [Which was sort of an understatement, really, not to mention Charles had no idea how they'd even go about treating him, if he was going to be lashing out and trying to cut anyone who came near him with weapons he could apparently create from his own blood, of all things.
Speaking of which.]
... Actually, Merlin, if you're not too busy, I could probably do with some, too. [He almost sounds more sheepish than anything else, although it still hurts and he's definitely maybe a little scared, because he's been hurt, but he's never actually died before.] We're on the second floor, in room twelve. It's sort of a mess. [Really, meaning, there's an awful lot of blood on the walls and everywhere else in the roomand maybe coming out of me nbd. :|
It occurs to him vaguely that this probably isn't something he should be telling just anyone - he has no idea where Toto is, or what the hell he was really planning on doing here - but he's pretty confident he can knock out almost anyone trying to come into the room before Merlin or Erik or someone got here, so instead of bothering to retroactively filter it or do much of anything other than keep pressure on the wound, he just drops the comm back into his lap and waits.]
All in all, he sounds way too calm for someone who just got stabbed.]
I found Senji. He's been tortured, probably at least for a few days, by his inmate. He's currently unconscious and in serious need of medical attention. [Which was sort of an understatement, really, not to mention Charles had no idea how they'd even go about treating him, if he was going to be lashing out and trying to cut anyone who came near him with weapons he could apparently create from his own blood, of all things.
Speaking of which.]
... Actually, Merlin, if you're not too busy, I could probably do with some, too. [He almost sounds more sheepish than anything else, although it still hurts and he's definitely maybe a little scared, because he's been hurt, but he's never actually died before.] We're on the second floor, in room twelve. It's sort of a mess. [Really, meaning, there's an awful lot of blood on the walls and everywhere else in the room
It occurs to him vaguely that this probably isn't something he should be telling just anyone - he has no idea where Toto is, or what the hell he was really planning on doing here - but he's pretty confident he can knock out almost anyone trying to come into the room before Merlin or Erik or someone got here, so instead of bothering to retroactively filter it or do much of anything other than keep pressure on the wound, he just drops the comm back into his lap and waits.]
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Charles is more or less where he had been standing when Senji lashed out, except now he's on the ground with his legs stretched out in front of him. There's a deep, pretty nasty gash in his side and a lot of blood on his sweater and the hand currently trying to keep pressure on the injury, and while he looks pretty pale, he's still mostly alert and manages to call out to Alex when he senses his approach.]
Glad to know you're alright. I would have checked in sooner, but I had to untangle a few Time Lords and it took a bit longer than I expected.
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What happened? [The stab wound first, then the Time Lords please :|]
spam, anne pls
Stop apologizing.
[Yeah, he's mad, that makes sense. Being mad doesn't stop him from ripping a decent strip of his sweatshirt off and knocking Charles's hands aside to press the cloth to the wound.]
Are you allergic to calling for backup? [He'll shut up now and defer to Erik's questions, but seriously. Charles. Are you?]
spam, anne is amazing
He takes a deep breath, grimacing, trying to stay calm and just tell them what happened and continue this whole avoiding passing out or dying thing he's been managing for a couple minutes now, although he'd be lying if he said he wasn't feeling a little faint or sick or something at this point.]
Senji panicked when I took the restraints off him. Apparently, he can use his blood to create physical weapons which are, in fact, quite sharp. I knocked him unconscious and thought I'd let people know what happened. [Which, actually, speaking of which.] Have you seen his inmate anywhere?
spam, AGREED
Glancing toward the bed - trying not to take int he blood covered walls, it was really quite horrifying (not to mention the smell) - he saw Senji still mostly tied down, but out cold. He wasn't remotely a priority, though, and soon Erik's attention was back on Charles.]
The green haired one? No.
[He's already restless, anxious, where is Merlin, Alex's sweatshirt is slowly turning red against the wound, when he realizes - blood contains iron. Frowning vaguely, Erik lifts a hand, palm aimed vaguely at the wound. It's difficult to sense, but he thinks - he thinks - he can feel it, and wonders if he can help stop the bleeding. It's not something he's ever considered before.]
spam, v///v
[He's wired on adrenaline, so he notices Erik moving his hand. To his credit, he doesn't flinch or frown or move in any way to try to shield Charles, as if he could. Instead, he looks up at Erik for a second, considering him.]
[Then he nods very, very slightly, and goes back to holding pressure.]
Me either.
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He's pleasantly surprised when Alex just accepts that Erik's there and he's not going anywhere, but just as quickly as that thought had formed, Erik's movement distracts him. He almost cocks his head slightly, curious, tendrils of thought gently brushing against both their minds without him really meaning to. His control's definitely slipping.]
What are you doing?
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Pursing his lips slightly, Erik pushes that away, and tries to concentrate.]
There's iron in your blood, [he points out, and turns his hand, palm up and fingers curling slightly. The gestures aren't really necessary, he's fairly positive of that - but they help him focus. He thought it was only big things that were difficult, but it's the miniscule, too; he doesn't know how to control so much at that size, but it's worth trying, if it means keeping the blood from flowing.
He flicks a glance at Alex, look clear: keep him talking, because right now, he can't spare much for conversation.]
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[He catches Erik's eye, though, because some things are instinctive. You learn to read each other in a combat situation. If you don't, you die. So he turns to Charles and starts yelling at him, because that's the first thing he can think of to do.]
Which he's going to use to keep you from bleeding to death like an idiot.
[Look, he's honest. And broadcasting. Pay attention to me. Look at me. He knows Erik can handle this, and Charles would know it too if he wasn't delirious from blood loss. Don't ask questions. Look at me.]
You didn't answer my question.
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You don't have to shout, Alex. [But he doesn't actually sound reproachful at all, really. It's better to focus on him and not on the pain, or anything else about what's happening, really, and again, he almost unconsciously flexes his toes, just because he can. That's something, at least. He might be bleeding a lot, but at least he's not paralyzed.
He's still a little distracted though, when he tries to remember what the question actually was.]
Which question?
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Really, Charles. This is really 'probably' needing medical attention?
They're halfway through a conversation but he doesn't particularly care, he just drops to his knees as close as he can get and reaches out. This close he can feel something else, some other power stemming the flow of blood.]
Ic the thurhhæle thinu licsar.
[He can't see the wound closing but he can feel it, the magic working under his hands. He exhales heavily and sits back on his heels.]
...bit more urgency might've been called for, Charles.
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Which kind of has him in a good mood, especially now that Charles is healed. He nods his thanks to Merlin, then glances at Alex before telling Charles, ruefully,]
He wanted to know if you're allergic to backup.
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[He snorts a little at Merlin's comment - because yeah, it might've been - and leans back against the wall, giving Charles space and letting the bloody cloth drop to the floor. Haha, it is just covered in blood. Ha.]
[He glances at Erik, too, lips quirking slightly. He's kind of impressed.]
Which obviously you are, since you have so much available.
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He holds still and manages a sort of sheepish smile for Merlin when he finishes, but he can't really help the smirk that forms at the comment, because, well.] Evidently, I'm not, otherwise I'd be having a terrible reaction to the three of you being here.
[He carefully peels back the fabric from where the injury had been to check Merlin's handywork and sees the wound had closed, leaving a scar, but not much else, besides the blood all over him. It still hurts, but more like a bad bruise than a openly bleeding stab wound, and he's definitely still feeling pretty weak, but he's fine, just like he'd more or less known he would be.
So he lets his head clunk back against the mattress and sighs, suddenly feeling the exhaustion hit him like a freight train, quasi intentionally projecting appreciation and gratitude and concern and something like guilt to them.]
Thanks. Sorry to worry you.
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[Which is a speech he's now made twice this week. Precisely two times too many. That thought holds him still for a moment before he exhales heavily and gets to his feet.]
I'll see to Senji.
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Merlin's pause attracts his attention, though, and he settles a vaguely quizzical look on him before dismissing it. No doubt Merlin's been healing people left and right, he's likely just tired.]
Make sure he doesn't wake up, [he says dryly, and settles a hand on Charles' shoulder.] All right?
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[He smiles, looks at Charles.] Yeah, we should probably get out of here.
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Thanks to some timely intervention by three people I've come to truly trust, appreciate and respect, yes. Although I think I'm gravely in need of a shower and a change of clothes. [He apparently can be wordy and articulate when drunk and when suffering from the effects of severe bloodloss! Who knew!]
Give me a hand up? [Although, really, he'd probably need to use at least one of them as a human crutch, considering he wasn't entirely sure his legs would support his weight. He wouldn't exactly protest being carried, but he still had a few hang ups surrounding appreciating functional legs, and he'd rather walk to wherever they're going than not. B(]
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Instead, he stretches out his hand, rising for leverage to pull Charles up.]
Only you would be verbose after being stabbed, [he mutters dryly.]
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[Making light of the situation doesn't keep him from glancing at Erik as he takes Charles's hand. He has to let that happen, though, it seems fair, and he's not about to argue with Charles when he's in this state.]
[He does hover a little bit, though. Maybe a lot.]
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[But that's all he's saying on the matter as he takes Erik's hand and lets him pull him up, mostly because his vision is definitely going a little spotty, which means he is both holding onto Erik's hand pretty tightly and listing a little towards his friend as he blinked and tried to get his bearings back.]
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momCharles. He doesn't nod to him, or gesture him in (not like he gestured Moira forward on the beach); he knows what it's like, to be desperate to help and be unable to. So he makes sure Alex is able to.]Have I mentioned lately that you're very lucky, Charles?
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[He swallows, doesn't say anything, and steps to the other side, nudging Charles's arm up over his shoulder. Charles is going to be safe, and Erik's going to be . . . he doesn't know what, but something different, if things keep going like this. Better not to talk at all right now.]
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Probably. I'm sure you'd enjoy mentioning it a couple hundred more times, though.
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Shaw isn't a threat anymore, and there are pieces to pick up. Friends to support, kids to guide. He has a job, a duty to do by Alex, by Sean and Hank and Raven and Angel and everyone like them. Erik hadn't had a place to belong when he was a boy. But he could supply it for others who needed it.]
I would, actually. I'm sure you won't mind.