i_speak_softly | Twenty-second Theory [Voice/Action]

Entry tags:

Twenty-second Theory [Voice/Action]

((Forward-dated to tomorrow morning. Or whenever the draftees get sent back from the battle. Follows from this.))

[Donatello opens his eyes, and there's color. He's in his apartment again.

Raph is beside him, still in the deathlike sleep of torpor. The bandages on his wing are a little reddened with blood.

And Don feels cold. He no longer has a button for requesting medical supplies; he hasn't yet learned to use healing magic.

But he knows someone who can use it, and while his shell-cells may not have followed him back from the battlefield, his journal is lying within reach.

He can't be bothered to filter.]

Isamu... I need your help.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Raph cracks his eyes open at the pinch, but they're bloodshot and dull, blinking lazily in Chopper's general direction. The lights are on, but nobody's home.]

[A 'hmm', and then silence. Chopper inspects the cauterized tissue carefully; it's dead, which means that healing magic would have no effect on it at all. They'll just have to hope that wings really do grow back in Luceti.]

[He reaches for the topical antibiotics just as Raphael wakes up, and halts immediately.] Raphael? Can you hear me?

[Raph does hear a voice rising over the white and static that's engulfed his mind, but it takes too much energy to make sense of it. All he does is blink slowly and shiver. It's so cold here, with all this snow.]

[Don leans over and pushes Raph's mask up, placing a warm hand on his shoulder.] Raph? How are you doing?

[He moans in response to Don's touch. It's warm, but at the same time it hurts. Every inch of him hums with pain that pulses from the missing wing, gnawing at his bones.]

Donatello, check his vitals. [Who knows if a decent reading can even be made from them right now, but Chopper is already reaching in his bag and pulling out a bottle filled with capsules.] I'm going to have to administer an analgesic manually, so hold him down for me.

[Don slides his hand up to find Raph's pulse at the base of his neck.] Pulse is steady. [The hand curves up the back of Raph's head, to rest on his scalp.] Temperature is a little low. [A little pressure, to hold Raph's head safely against the pillow, and with his other hand he gently gathers up his brother's wrists.]

[But he raises a brow at that bottle of capsules.] Where are those going?

[Chopper pulls a surgical glove onto one arm and twists the bottle open.] He might be going into shock from the pain. If he isn't capable of swallowing, we'll have to push it down his throat.

[Hopefully that answers that question, because seconds later Chopper is posed near Raph's head.] Raphael, if you can understand me, I'm going to give you a painkiller now. It's going to be uncomfortable, but I promise it'll help with the pain.

Edited 2010-08-10 00:17 (UTC)

[Raph's eyes open again when he feels himself being lifted. His head swims, and he still can't will his vision clear. But he knows someone is touching him, and it's not his brother.

Though the minute he goes to protest, his jaw's wrenched open and he's choking on something being forced down his throat. Once it leaves, his stomach clenches and he hunches forward, dry heaving.

The motion only intensifies the pain to more excruciating levels, and if he was aware that's Don's hand he's gripping like a vice, he'd apologize for any resulting broken bones.]

[Don... kind of can't believe Chopper just did that. He's never done that. How suicidal do you have to be, to voluntarily stuff your hand down Raphael's throat?]

[Raph's death grip immobilizes him, so he can't even lean his brother over the edge of the bed.] It's okay, Raph. Breathe.

[And to Chopper:] Never do that again.

It's better than going into shock. [Chopper's voice is hard as he yanks the glove off of his arm. You're overprotective; he gets that. It doesn't get things done.] His gag reflex is still active - that's good. That reaction meant his body is still responding to things as it should be.

[He reaches into his bag and lays out several packs of antibiotic ointment and bandages next to the pill and penicillin bottles.] Dress his wing with new bandages every few hours. Until he can swallow on his own again, you'll have to either use these pills like I did or find an opiate. There's nothing else I can do for you. [He can sense those boundaries that he's been pressing since day one. And he'll respect them - but he hopes that Don's possessiveness and sensitivity won't get in the way of his doing what needs to be done.] Any questions?

[When Raph's done gagging, he'll collapse against whatever surface is behind him, be it Don or the bed. At this point, he just doesn't fucking care. He's exhausted and hurting and just wants everybody to leave him the hell alone.]

[That thing Raph just collapsed on? Don's arm. His weight drags Don down, pinning him and forcing him to hunch over. It isn't the most authoritative position from which to respond to Chopper.]

He was fine.

[And he's not overprotective, he just has Rules. Rules that include no forced drugs, unless it's really a matter of life or death.]

No. I'll take it from here.

[No, he wasn't. But there's no point in arguing with Don at this point, and Chopper's tired. He slings the bag over his shoulder and looks up over at Brook.] I'm done. Let's go back home.

[Yeah, Brook's just been sitting over here ~~because LJ notifs FAILED ME I'M SORRY~~, keeping out of the way for now. He didn't need to understand the medical jargon to know that Chopper did everything he did because it was necessary.

Hopefully Raph will be feeling better soon because of it. Brook might come back around when he does, but for now it's time to go. He nods to Chopper, then smoothly reaches an arm down to scoop the little reindeer back up to his shoulder.

A small tip of the hat to the turtles, even if only one is conscious enough to see it.] Good day to you, gentlemen. As best as you can have, at least.

[Don twists around to face his guests. He could lift Raph if he had to, but not in any particularly gentle way, and manhandling him is probably not a good idea right now.]

Thanks, Brook. I'd see you out, but I really can't get away just now.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Twenty-second Theory [Voice/Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]