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link PLEASE tell me they're hallucinating

[somehow nebulous time after he wakes up from being knocked out

no he cannot see properly and is typing with one eye open]

what

they're saying you attacked someone last night where are you?

laundry i think

i'm in laundry

[and currently extricating himself from a sheet and laundry lines]

[ squint ]

hiding?

wtf no

i got into a fight with some guys i just woke up

fuck
i think they broke some ribs. i gotta pop my shoulder back into place

okay i'll come over maybe we can get you to some doctor they can't just drag you to jail injured

yes they can no doctors gonna give a shit about me

i'm not gonna get dragged i'm gonna make sure they remember me the rest of their fuckin lives

well i give a shit about you and that's got to count for something

i know i know
you always have always will

i know what i need to fix myself up
grab bandages, alcohol, ice, whatever medieval shit they keep here

pills

coming over anyway

[ unless bella tells me no ]

we're not gonna be able to be with you for a while

couple weeks is nothin you haven't done before
you made it here without me til i found you

[if she's lucky she'll find him the second he's sat down on the edge of his bed, shirtless, the abrupt, discomforting sound of a bone being forced back into place to welcoming her in. his face is pretty messy‐blooming, purplish bruises and a swollen cheek, dried blood running from his nose nose, smeared over his cupid's bow and chin, trailing down his neck. every breath he takes is a hitched wheeze. the rest of his body is more of the same, chest and abdomen littered with attacks, some from fists others from a sharp object. his other arm is still bleeding from a deep wound from a large blade.

he is ruining the mattress with his own gore.

one eye darts to her, annoyed, tired, relieved. impossible to determine true expression. he spits on the floor, speckling wood with blood. looks like he may have gotten a bite out of whoever attacked him.]

Heya, Cellar.

[ Far from the last time she's seen him in such a state, the difference being that there's no way to siphon his healing off someone else, she walks in like she's home from a long day at work, or like she's ready to start an even longer day still, looking him over with concern she can't help holding in her heart. There's only so many hypotheses she can come up with, more suspects than she can count on both hands, and all she can truly wonder is - did Saber give as good as he got? ]

Hey. Tell me what you need.

[ She's already moving to grab a towel, rolled up and placed under a running tap. ]

[he ran himself ragged, killing two people back to back and having shanks jump him today. he's not used to the physical exhaustion that can't be slept away or killed for.]

I need, [he extends his leg with a wince, pointing with the toe of his shoe toward a chest of drawers out of reach.] what's in there. One more cigarette for the road.

[he swallows, grabs a needle and thread and begins working a stitch through an open gash.]

Not exactly a fair fight if you ask me, y'know. [his voice is nearly a whisper. not a lot a guy can do about irritating his throat when he's used to talking so much.] Three guys, three of 'em, came after me.

[ She follows his lead, takes out a pack, picks out a cigarette, picks up the lighter that's somewhere in there, too. Cellar watches Saber take care of the open gash, something unfeeling in her expression. She's seen worse. Saber has healed worse in her, too, at the cost of some random guy's life. ]

And here you are. [ She'll hand over the cigarette and light it whenever Saber gives the signal. ] You're stronger, even without your powers.

[ Worth admiring. But also terrifying. ]

[teeth catch the cigarette and he's inhaling, exhaling through his nose, talking through the corner of his mouth while his hands are busy.]

No shit I'm stronger. You don't get to be my age without– [his breath catches, head drooping to hide irritation (at himself), expert hands paused over the wound before a shaky sigh is released.] knowin' how to play dirty.

[his good eye locks on to the stitches he's done. an alright job, for the shape he's in, and he holds the remaining thread out to her.]

Can you bite this?

[ A nod, quietly, and she snaps it with her teeth. This is a contrast from the state she found him in not that long ago, when he was preparing himself to die by his own hand. He refused to do that this time. He fucking refused to die. Seeing every blow to his body, face deformed by bruises, she feels grateful that he's still here. ]

[he watches her lean down, the second's worth glean of her teeth used for such a gritty task making the corner of his mouth tug upward. he moves on to the next, every gash a little less worse than the one before. it's clear he started strong from where the gashes are and dodged the fatal attacks before tiring, body capitulating to assault.]

I'm not livin' like a cripple. If anything else happens to me, I dunno.

[a shrug. he pauses, abandoning his job to remove the cigarette from his lips.]

On a scale of one to ten how fucked up do I look?

Ten's the max?

[ A little sarcastic, but her concern is there. She crosses her arms once he's got nothing else to ask of her hands or her teeth. ]

Who were the guys? Did you know them?

No idea, I think they knew tiny.

[koby.]

Red hair, blond hair, black hair. Black hair didn't do as much as the other two. He tried to break the fight up. [he shimmies himself backwards until he's pressed up against the wall.] They ring any bells to you?

[ Cellar frowns, thinking. ]

Long red hair?

Not that long. I guess kinda longer than mine... [trailing off, his one good eye blinks as he tries to remember.] I think his name was Shanks. That's what one of them called him.

Edited 2025-11-04 04:09 (UTC)

Okay.

[ Shanks. She'll have to remember that name, watch out for him. Not that Saber's a stranger to fights - or to giving as good as he gets - but it has to be jarring to be this hurt and without the option of using his Raíz-given power to heal. ]

You wanna rest for a while? I can bring you food. Try to grab some painkillers while I'm at it.

Uh-huh. Get me the good stuff, will ya? Bet that crazy bitch Misty would have somethin' to knock me out.

[he slumps a bit lower, fingers tracing over a few stitches.]

If I'm dead before you get back, you know who to blame.

[ She's not above sneaking and stealing from Crazy Bitch Misty; there's no way in hell Cellar's properly asking her for anything. The more distance she has from that woman, the better. ]

Except you won't be dead before I'm back. You're not doing that anymore.

[ curbyourenthusiasm.mp3 ]

See you in a bit.

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