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No one asked for this shit
[Based off of this trainwreck]
It's some sort of poison, he thinks, as he pauses by the river to peel off his shirt and look at the blood soaked bits of Signless' cloak they'd used to wrap around his side.
Fucking stupid of him, honestly, and a breath rattles out between his fangs as he lightly touches the makeshift bandages. Still wet, and his gray fingers come away putrid yellow. It hasn't stopped bleeding even a little bit. No clotting, no closing up of the wound. Stupid fucking plants with their leaves like razors. Of course they would have brought Alternian flora here, and he curses himself for not being more careful. How long had he been traveling on his home planet? He should have been more prepared for this.
His body won't stop shaking as he sets himself down by the river, wondering if it's even worth it to clean the wound. Would more blood just pour out, a flood impossible to hide?
He needs supplies. Needs medicine, something to seal up the wound or force the blood to clot or stop whatever weird poison bullshit was on that stupid piece of shit plant. But first aid wasn't what he managed to grab when they were all released like wild animals. Does he know anyone else who does...?
Lyn. Lyn does, and for one low moment he thinks of hunting the kid down. It's gone in a second, and he rubs at his face. "Calm the fuck down, you tremendouth athole," he hisses to himself, voice unsteady. What the hell is he thinking? Lyn, scrawny and wide eyed and jumpier than a nutbeast, trooping with him through the shitty fucking forest and rambling to him about one of his dumb favorite movies like that could hide how he was ten seconds away from flipping his shit. He needed all he could get. He wasn't going to be the one to fuck him over.
For a moment, all he can do is space out, staring at his hand and noting blankly how its lost what meager color it used to have. "Tho what now?" he finds himself murmuring to thin air.
There's no way he can move himself to go and search for supplies himself. His body can't stand it- he's pushing it just moving as he is now. A long trip... Yeah, good fucking luck.
So.... This is it. The realization settles something in him, and he's not sure if the sudden onset of calm is because he's lost too much blood or if because... Well, he was always hoping for death one way or another, right? The calm carries him through, lets him pull his shirt back over his head again and he tiredly makes his way back to where he and Signless have made camp for the day. The other troll looks up to him, rattled and wild eyed- sleep hasn't come to him sweetly for ages. It's been rough for all of them, but his best beloved has had it hardest.
Detached and hurting for all the pity and love he has for this broken down troll, Psii gives him a smile like nothing's wrong. "Hey, relax- I came back, didn't I?" It hurts to breath, but he can hide it as he settles down besides him and wraps his arms tight around him. "C'mon... let'sh take a break. Jutht retht, okay, Eth?" He gives a snigger. "Fuck thith diurnal bullthit. I'll watch out for you, alright?"
When Signless finally falls asleep besides him, brow furrowed from all the daymares that wrap around his pan like thorns, Psii brushes his fingers along his jawline.
Who's going to look out for him when he's gone? Who's going to help him through this fucktacular shitshow, make him eat, keep him going?
Who's going to look out for Lyn? Little shit is good at surviving, he'll give him that, but there's some fucked up assholes around here he won't handle in a fight- he thinks of those creepy fuckers with the harnesses, of the asshole sharing his sign and horns, of Schuldig...
Ha. He actually gives a snort at that, fingers jerking somewhere near Signless' ear, and his side gives a dull throb of pain. Schuldig. What a piece of shit. He feels his heart give one weak throb, pitch right down to its core against all goddamn semblances of sense. The memory of that night, when a bunch of them huddled together to share a fire either because strength in numbers or just to keep an eye on the others, flashes through his mind. He'd looked like so much trash, a mess from not enough food and not enough caffeine, fingers jerking and eyes bloodshot. Psii had felt a surge of protective hatred as their shoulders had bumped near the fire, digging untrimmed claws into the back of his hand and hissing into his ear, "Don't fall apart yet, fucker".
Someone has to take care of the rotten bastard.
He guesses... it's just not going to be him.
Everything seems dim and colorless. God, he's so tired...
But there are worst ways to die, and worst places too, he thinks as he stares at Signless' face.
The Psiioniic lets himself go to sleep with a tired smile.
He doesn't wake up.
It's some sort of poison, he thinks, as he pauses by the river to peel off his shirt and look at the blood soaked bits of Signless' cloak they'd used to wrap around his side.
Fucking stupid of him, honestly, and a breath rattles out between his fangs as he lightly touches the makeshift bandages. Still wet, and his gray fingers come away putrid yellow. It hasn't stopped bleeding even a little bit. No clotting, no closing up of the wound. Stupid fucking plants with their leaves like razors. Of course they would have brought Alternian flora here, and he curses himself for not being more careful. How long had he been traveling on his home planet? He should have been more prepared for this.
His body won't stop shaking as he sets himself down by the river, wondering if it's even worth it to clean the wound. Would more blood just pour out, a flood impossible to hide?
He needs supplies. Needs medicine, something to seal up the wound or force the blood to clot or stop whatever weird poison bullshit was on that stupid piece of shit plant. But first aid wasn't what he managed to grab when they were all released like wild animals. Does he know anyone else who does...?
Lyn. Lyn does, and for one low moment he thinks of hunting the kid down. It's gone in a second, and he rubs at his face. "Calm the fuck down, you tremendouth athole," he hisses to himself, voice unsteady. What the hell is he thinking? Lyn, scrawny and wide eyed and jumpier than a nutbeast, trooping with him through the shitty fucking forest and rambling to him about one of his dumb favorite movies like that could hide how he was ten seconds away from flipping his shit. He needed all he could get. He wasn't going to be the one to fuck him over.
For a moment, all he can do is space out, staring at his hand and noting blankly how its lost what meager color it used to have. "Tho what now?" he finds himself murmuring to thin air.
There's no way he can move himself to go and search for supplies himself. His body can't stand it- he's pushing it just moving as he is now. A long trip... Yeah, good fucking luck.
So.... This is it. The realization settles something in him, and he's not sure if the sudden onset of calm is because he's lost too much blood or if because... Well, he was always hoping for death one way or another, right? The calm carries him through, lets him pull his shirt back over his head again and he tiredly makes his way back to where he and Signless have made camp for the day. The other troll looks up to him, rattled and wild eyed- sleep hasn't come to him sweetly for ages. It's been rough for all of them, but his best beloved has had it hardest.
Detached and hurting for all the pity and love he has for this broken down troll, Psii gives him a smile like nothing's wrong. "Hey, relax- I came back, didn't I?" It hurts to breath, but he can hide it as he settles down besides him and wraps his arms tight around him. "C'mon... let'sh take a break. Jutht retht, okay, Eth?" He gives a snigger. "Fuck thith diurnal bullthit. I'll watch out for you, alright?"
When Signless finally falls asleep besides him, brow furrowed from all the daymares that wrap around his pan like thorns, Psii brushes his fingers along his jawline.
Who's going to look out for him when he's gone? Who's going to help him through this fucktacular shitshow, make him eat, keep him going?
Who's going to look out for Lyn? Little shit is good at surviving, he'll give him that, but there's some fucked up assholes around here he won't handle in a fight- he thinks of those creepy fuckers with the harnesses, of the asshole sharing his sign and horns, of Schuldig...
Ha. He actually gives a snort at that, fingers jerking somewhere near Signless' ear, and his side gives a dull throb of pain. Schuldig. What a piece of shit. He feels his heart give one weak throb, pitch right down to its core against all goddamn semblances of sense. The memory of that night, when a bunch of them huddled together to share a fire either because strength in numbers or just to keep an eye on the others, flashes through his mind. He'd looked like so much trash, a mess from not enough food and not enough caffeine, fingers jerking and eyes bloodshot. Psii had felt a surge of protective hatred as their shoulders had bumped near the fire, digging untrimmed claws into the back of his hand and hissing into his ear, "Don't fall apart yet, fucker".
Someone has to take care of the rotten bastard.
He guesses... it's just not going to be him.
Everything seems dim and colorless. God, he's so tired...
But there are worst ways to die, and worst places too, he thinks as he stares at Signless' face.
The Psiioniic lets himself go to sleep with a tired smile.
He doesn't wake up.