civilobedience: (pic#4837097)
The Militia. ([personal profile] civilobedience) wrote in [community profile] multiversallogs2012-10-01 08:45 pm

The Arena Riots ( open, gamewide )

Who: The Militia, the city, and you.
What: The Arena Riots.
Where: The Arena, Griss Twist.
When: Newdi, Eliaderen 1. (Monday Oct 1st)
Notes: Companion post for questions and plotting is here.
Warnings: Violence, police brutality, disturbing content and imagery, graphic death.

It's apparent even before dawn that something out of the ordinary is happening. Canton sheriffs are roused from their sleep or pulled away from their work to be told that on no uncertain terms, today will be a day that they do not leave their neat lines on the map. That their individual offices will be responsible for all crime and unrest within their jurisdictions, with no help; the powers that be offer no details, but the creeping feeling in their presence suggests no questions would be tolerated anyway – the implication that they'll all be watched is a strong one. In Mog Hill, Sheriff Norrington proceeds as he always does under such orders. In Mafaton, leadership is stoic but one deputy laughs, sharp and bitter, while the Emissary of the Council merely checks his watch, unseen underground. Sir Hellsing is pulled away from her dinner in the Guild Hall, a Sobek Croix deputy anxiously relaying the news. The sound of shattered glass disturbs the pre-dawn silence in Flyside, a brick hurled by some faceless figure into the front window of Thames – and nothing else.

From the Spire, hooded Militiamen move quietly and uniformly south, to Griss Twist. They are followed by wagons, full of prisoners.
amberdrake: (come on lets show them your love)

[personal profile] amberdrake 2012-10-07 11:14 pm (UTC)(link)
It's dark by the time Drake catches wind of this particular safehouse and works his way to it, carefully avoiding the militia as he goes. He's been out doing his thing in the street, again, and his latest change of scrubs are now as bloodied as his first ones of the evening.

Things are starting to seriously take their toll, now. He's not walking all that straight at this point and his eyes keep trying to go out of focus. But he's worked himself past the point of being able to see at all, in the past, and he intends to wring the Gift for all he can get out of it, tonight. Why else was he born with it, and went through all that misery because of its existence, if he isn't going to use it?

The tap-tap-tap he gives the safe house door is not the authoritative knocking of a militia member, although it's loud enough to not be an accident.
obscuredvision: (wary)

[personal profile] obscuredvision 2012-10-08 03:46 am (UTC)(link)
It's a long moment before the door opens; the young woman now regarding Drake thoughtfully through the small opening she's allowed took a moment to grab a rolling pin from the kitchen, hiding it behind her back.

One can never be too careful.

But he's not part of the Militia-- and, oh God, is he injured, is that blood? Ava steps back, opening the door wider.

"Please, come inside. Tell me what I can do to help."
amberdrake: (I follow the stars to my abode)

[personal profile] amberdrake 2012-10-08 03:57 am (UTC)(link)
Indeed, although Drake has chosen dark-colored scrubs that hide blood better than the alternatives, he's still been bled on an awful lot by a lot of people. It's part of the job, especially when you go out feeling for the worst of the injured. And especially when one often needs to move said injured before working on them.

"None of it is mine," Amberdrake steps in, although he's quick to add: "I am a Healer."

No need to make her think he's been out shedding that blood himself, although with his palor and the way he sways slightly in place, the assumption that its his is quite reasonable.

"I heard you may have need of one. Are there any injured here?"
obscuredvision: (thoughful fingers)

[personal profile] obscuredvision 2012-10-08 06:51 pm (UTC)(link)
The relief on her face is evident, though the concern doesn't quite leave; he seems pale, unsteady on his feet.

"We do have need of a healer," she says, "please, follow me. They're all downstairs in the cellar, the entrance is in the back yard."

She leads him away, explaining as they walk. "There's no one with life-threatening injury down there, but there are two people who I think have broken bones--a leg and an arm. One more young lady may have a concussion, she took a blow to the head. The rest of the injured have cuts, bruises, things like that."
amberdrake: (rip out the wings of a butterfly)

[personal profile] amberdrake 2012-10-08 09:23 pm (UTC)(link)
Even in the best of times, Drake hates broken bones. He can't simply brute-force Heal them and be done with it, not without running the very real risk of making them ridiculously fragile.

Bones require a lot of energy and a lot of recovery time. And they are the most common semi-severe thing he's seen today.

"I can handle the concussion and the bones," Amberdrake follows after her, if not in quite the arrow-straight line he would have managed a few hours ago. "Cuts and bruises, unless they involve things like stab wounds and internal trauma, I will have to leave as-is under the circumstances."

But he'd check them all over to make sure. It didn't take much energy to just look.
obscuredvision: (ava)

[personal profile] obscuredvision 2012-10-08 10:30 pm (UTC)(link)
"Thank you so much. I appreciate your help and I know the people downstairs will as well. I'm Ava, by the way," she adds, as they step out the back door.

They reach the doors to the cellar, and she holds up a hand, indicating he should wait a moment. "Hello, everyone," she calls out as she opens a door. "It's me, Ava. A healer has come by to help, I'm bringing him down now."

And then, before they start down, softly: "...I didn't want to alarm them by suddenly opening the door or heading down with a stranger. It's been a crazy day, people's emotions are on edge."
amberdrake: (if you need to crash then crash & burn)

[personal profile] amberdrake 2012-10-09 03:33 am (UTC)(link)
"No, no, I understand," Amberdrake smiles wanly, "I've been a refugee myself, in the past." More than once, and for longer than one night. "It's a good plan."

He peers down the stairs, bracing himself for a moment. Drake's really not very steady on his feet anymore, and it would be incredibly stupid of him to fall and break his fool head. Or any other part, for that matter -- his own Healing Gift doesn't work on him!

"Ah, my name is Amberdrake," he adds a bit belatedly, starting down said stairs. If she's in his cohort, she may have seen his post when he arrived, offering his services as a Healer.

Drake remains careful, all the way down the stairs. He's used to having to adjust for his exhaustion, and knows it would only take one good stumble! It's like following an old man.
Edited 2012-10-09 03:34 (UTC)
obscuredvision: (moving forward)

[personal profile] obscuredvision 2012-10-09 04:25 am (UTC)(link)
"Amberdrake. What a lovely name."

Her concern only grows as they descend the stairs; he doesn't seem entirely steady but she doesn't want to call him out in front of the people taking refuge here, doesn't want them to be afraid or worried.

"Tell me what I can do to help," she says, and of course she means with the people who need healing, but her gaze is a bit pointed, too, as she makes the offer. "I'll give you whatever support you need."
amberdrake: (I'm home again I won the war)

[personal profile] amberdrake 2012-10-09 04:38 am (UTC)(link)
Drake can feel that concern bouncing off his shields, of course. As well as all the panic and fear and worry of everyone here. But kestra'chern are nothing if not performers, so he simply straightens his spine a bit more as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, and affixes a pleasant smile on his face.

"Not to worry," he says in general, "it has simply been a very long, tiring time." To put it lightly. His energy is not infinite, and since the Gift uses his body's natural resources, he's feeling like he's been running a marathon all day long. Not to mention what his Empathy has been doing to him with all the horrible crap going down all around him.

"Now," he says to the room at large, "I've heard there may be a concussion here, and... ah, that is you, isn't it?" Drake offers the person in question a reassuring smile, and approaches to place his fingers on their forehead, his eyes going unfocused as the Healing Gift overlays his other senses.
obscuredvision: (thoughful fingers)

[personal profile] obscuredvision 2012-10-10 06:25 pm (UTC)(link)
Ava trails in his wake, staying near enough that she can easily move to help if Drake requires it, but not so close that she's underfoot. She busies herself checking on the lamps, the people nearby, the water supplies.

He's working, so she won't ask how he knew who had the concussion. But she suspects that healer isn't merely a profession, but some sort of gift, like her sight. And so she understands to allow time and space for things to unfold, to let him do what he needs to do without getting in the way.
amberdrake: (heaven ablaze in our eyes)

[personal profile] amberdrake 2012-10-10 09:27 pm (UTC)(link)
Drake finishes tending to people a while later; bones have been splinted with energy and makeshift materials alike, a few deeper-than-expected cuts have been cleaned and stitched, and the concussion is just a bruised head and a memory.

When it's all done, he sits back on whatever he found to perch on -- a box, a crate, maybe a large rock and rubs at his eyes.

"I apologize," he says to Ava, "I've been at this all day, I fear I'm a bit tunnel-visioned around injuries at present."
obscuredvision: (my head)

My apologies for such sporadic tagging, work/school have been all in my face this week

[personal profile] obscuredvision 2012-10-13 03:49 am (UTC)(link)
She shakes her head, sympathetic. "You needn't apologize," she assures him, gently. "Today's kept you busy, I'm sure. I'm grateful you were able to come out here and help these people, even after all that."

Ava gestures toward the stairs. "Why don't you come back up to the house with me? If some food or water or tea would help I'm happy to set you up. Even getting some fresh air might make you feel better, maybe."
amberdrake: (the blood on our hands is the wine)

Not the face!

[personal profile] amberdrake 2012-10-13 02:59 pm (UTC)(link)
"That would be lovely, thank you," Amberdrake stands up, sucking in a breath as his sight briefly dims. When it returns, he finds his peripheral vision has essentially gone on strike. "...I think this will be my last safe-house for the night. Which leaves me free to recover, a little, before I try to head home."

And he pauses at the bottom of the stairs, tilting his head a little as he assesses his abilities. He's not terribly confident in making it up there in one shot. "You should go up ahead of me, I think."

Because if he falls and she's behind him, he can't see it ending well. He's quite heavy!
obscuredvision: (elbow)

[personal profile] obscuredvision 2012-10-15 03:11 am (UTC)(link)
That's concerning. Ava nods, a hint of a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth and the space between her brows. "If you insist. Follow me."

She starts up the stairs, turning back just enough once she's partway up to address Drake over her shoulder. "If you want to stay the night I can arrange something for you. If you'd rather rest before heading home. Just let me know." She's too polite to send anyone packing anyway, but he seems tired, it's been a long day, she'd rather not send someone back out into the streets if they aren't at full strength.
amberdrake: (this endless mercy mile)

[personal profile] amberdrake 2012-10-15 06:18 am (UTC)(link)
"I think just sitting for a while before I head out will be fine," he says, "and maybe some hot water for my thermos," since she offered food or drink already. Amberdrake makes his way up the stairs like an old, old, old man, clutching at the rail if there is one and touching the wall for balance if there isn't.

He just doesn't have the power to pretend to be serene in any way but a very weary fashion, nor to bother hiding his tiredness. His exhausted Healer state is one of the only times he drops the kestra'chern unflappable calm around others, mostly because there's just no helping it.

"But that is quite kind of you to offer," he adds after a few more steps up. Drake's being a little self-destructive, he knows, but he's much too tired to fight it.
obscuredvision: (inscrutable)

[personal profile] obscuredvision 2012-10-16 02:59 am (UTC)(link)
She reaches the top of the stairs well before he does, waiting until he's joined her to continue the conversation. "I will gladly get you some hot water. And somewhere to sit comfortably, for as long as you need."

In the house--it's not that she doesn't want everyone to come up to the house, she'd love nothing more. But she isn't sure how hard the Militia is working to find rioters, what lengths they're going to. Two dozen extra people in the house itself would be difficult to hide. But Drake's just one more, that shouldn't draw unwanted attention.

"Please, follow me inside, let's go to the kitchen to get your water first."
amberdrake: (to hear a story no one’s telling anymore)

[personal profile] amberdrake 2012-10-16 03:46 am (UTC)(link)
By the time Amberdrake reaches the top, his vision has grayed out in that familiar way that means that he really shouldn't be climbing any more stairs or extending his Gift anymore tonight if he doesn't want to end up face-down in a ditch somewhere.

And face-down in a ditch would be mildly inconvenient, to say the least.

He waits until they're inside the house before shrugging his backpack off his shoulder and producing the thermos in question, which he'll hand over with a minimum of swaying in place. The tea inside is low, but the herbs are blessedly potent and can stand to have more hot water added to let them steep again.

And they smell like they could melt a fork.

"If you can just add to that, it would be quite helpful," Drake says with a very weary smile.
obscuredvision: (counter)

[personal profile] obscuredvision 2012-10-21 09:01 pm (UTC)(link)
"I'll see to it." She waves him toward a table in the dining area just beyond. "Please, go sit. I'll be out when this is ready."

He needn't stay there to supervise--and honestly, he needn't stay on his feet at all, the sooner he sits, to her thinking, the better.