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hadriel_logs2016-09-14 12:24 pm
unknowable) wrote in hadriel_logs2016-09-14 12:24 pm
Entry tags:
save this town
Who: The Raven cast - Gansey (quaerit), Ronan (greywaren), Adam (unknowable), Blue (ampliat), Noah (casperdisaster), and Henry (robobees). Possibly others!
What: Zombies attack a house full of unprepared magical teenagers.
Where: House 1303.
When: 9/17
Warnings: Violence, foul language, grievous bodily harm, icky emotions.
[Catch-all log for Ravens during the zombie event! Zombie attack, post-zombie attack, post-event if necessary! Make your own starters & feel free to use this log for whatever you would like during the event!]
quaerit), Ronan (greywaren), Adam (unknowable), Blue (ampliat), Noah (casperdisaster), and Henry (robobees). Possibly others!What: Zombies attack a house full of unprepared magical teenagers.
Where: House 1303.
When: 9/17
Warnings: Violence, foul language, grievous bodily harm, icky emotions.
[Catch-all log for Ravens during the zombie event! Zombie attack, post-zombie attack, post-event if necessary! Make your own starters & feel free to use this log for whatever you would like during the event!]
adam
[Adam is aware of the zombies. He hadn't been overly worried at first, with only a few of them on the streets, but as their numbers increased he quickly became alarmed. Within a couple of days, he'd deemed it too dangerous to go out alone - too dangerous to help out at the clinic, which was frustrating, since no doubt they need the help more than ever.
Since then he's been at home, and things have seemed relatively safe, until they aren't anymore. He's in the kitchen when there's the sharp sound of broken glass, and his eyes widen in alarm. He looks out toward the living room.]
What was that?
[for ronan+gansey, during]
[They don't have all that much in the house to use to board up the windows, but Adam reasons that if they can make do for a bit, Ronan can maybe dream them up something better. There's no chance for napping in the midst of this sort of danger, though, so they have to do something - and they might not have boards, but they've got furniture. The windows aren't very big, either. His quick calculations seem promising, though it's hard to be sure - and it'll be dangerous either way. But things are dangerous now, with zombies trying to come through the windows. At least it's something.]
Get the other end of the couch. If we can get it up against the windows, they should be blocked off.
[For long enough, hopefully. But that means getting awfully close to zombie hands and zombie teeth. They'll have to chance it, though, because if they don't - well, it won't be long before they get in. Then it'll all be over.]
[after the attack]
[Well. That didn't go as planned. And Adam - supposes he can be grateful, at least, that no one died. That no one joined the mobs of the undead. Not him, not any of them. Maybe that makes it a worthwhile sacrifice to make.
And if he keeps telling himself that, eventually he'll believe it.
They'll have to move, of course. The house is a wreck. They should have moved anyway, once Henry arrived, but it took something big to force it. Adam wants to focus on that, but until the zombies are gone none of them can. He wants to focus on anything except himself, anything except what happened. He really can't, though. He's useless, for the moment, and can't even distract himself with chores.
He stays in his room, mostly. He'll answer the door if someone knocks, but otherwise - he's not fit company for anyone right now, he thinks.]
During!
[ Gansey looks harried, his face pinched in a way it hasn't been for a while. He sleeps on that couch. It's been his bedroom for months now, and Adam is essentially suggesting pulling his bedroom apart to block the entrances. He doesn't protest. He cannot actually imagine himself sleeping during this nightmare. He hasn't found it in himself to shut his eyes since this started. He moves to grab the other end of the couch, and points Ronan towards Adam. ]
I'll push! Help him pull. We have to be quick, I don't want to be that close to them for long.
no subject
[Well, everything has certainly gone to hell in a handbasket. Ronan stumbles briefly over part of Gansey's makeshift map supplies, crumpling a building underfoot as he moves to lift the couch and help Adam tug it over toward the window.
He can already hear the creatures outside start shuffling and moving toward the glass, trying to ignore the way that it makes the hair stand up on the back of his neck. He's long since moved Chainsaw's cage into the main room so that they can all stay together and keep an eye on her, but she's not happy with the sounds of the oncoming horde either and flaps loudly in her cage, upsetting the water dish and food laid out for her.
But he can't focus on that now- they have to move the furniture in front of the windows, and Ronan nods toward Adam when he hefts it upward, ready to move.]
Come on-
no subject
As he's pushing the couch up against the wall, the glass shatters. That was probably an inevitability too. The creatures are mindless, but strong and determined, and that's more than enough to break through a simple barrier like a window.]
Let's hurry - they're coming in.
[His voice is tight. He is, of course, more worried about the others - he at least is closer to the window than Ronan, though Gansey is unprotected. With the zombies reaching for them, it's hard to position themselves, and Adam's alarm and unease definitely doesn't help. But they nearly have it, he tells himself, they're almost done.]
no subject
That's horrifying. Gansey feels the terror of it right down to his bones, and of course, his instinct is to freeze. That's his natural response to fear, born from his years of knowing that the best way to keep a wasp from stinging him was to not move an inch, no matter how much he wanted to run.
That won't do here. He has to make himself move, has to fight through the panic. His face has whitened, and there's a sheen of sweat starting over it. He feels at once too hot, and there's a buzz in his ears that he knows is not real, not real. He forces himself forward, bracing his hands on the couch to stop them shaking. When it comes out, after seconds where he was sure his throat would close, his voice is far stronger than he'd believed. ]
Parrish, get away from the window! Hurry!
[ He throws his weight against the couch. They have to get it in place. ]
Come on, they're coming through!
no subject
Shit. Shit- Gansey is freezing up and Adam is tight and focused and Ronan feels like he's the only one who needs to move, as if any sort of motion or action can help them. He takes a hand off of the couch, throwing it in front of Adam's chest to try to pull him back from the broken window and the clawing of diseased fingers reaching for them both. Gansey is far enough back, he should be alright if he moves, but-]
Leave it- just fucking move!
[He's not going to drop the couch and leave the two of them there behind him, but staying here is clearly insane with how exposed all of them are now that the window has shattered.]
no subject
[Adam's voice is tight, but when he's afraid he focuses on one thing: survival, however it's possible. That's how it's always been for him, and he's had so much experience. He does it now, too, calculating quickly. They're right there, almost in, and he and Gansey and Ronan aren't the only ones at stake. They've almost got it.
So Adam takes the chance, shoves his end of the sofa up against the window. It's a tricky maneuver, and he almost manages it - the furniture up against the window, blocking it, Adam pulling away just in time.
Only he doesn't. A hand catches his arm, the grip stronger than he expected, mindless and uncaring. They can't feel pain, they're only focused on one thing. It's a blur, then, Adam lashing out, his own fear mingling with the strange half-aware alarm of Cabeswater in his head as its magician is threatened. Adam gets away, and he doesn't know if it was him or Cabeswater that managed it, but his mind is ringing with fear and his arm is bloody.
The sofa is up against the window, though. They're safe from that, at least.
It's a hollow victory. Adam feels sick to his stomach, looking at his arm. He doesn't want to look closer. He doesn't really need to.]
no subject
But Adam doesn't. He pushes the sofa the rest of the way, and then - ]
Adam!!
[ Horror overtakes Gansey. He sees that moment, those teeth in his friend's arm, as though it's in slow motion. Adrenaline surges in him while he rushes forward, grabbing hold of Adam and hauling him back - all too late, far too late.
Now there's a barrier between them and the monsters, but it doesn't matter, because the virus is in here with them. He's still holding onto Adam, looking in horror at his arm. His own hand tightens around his friend's bicep. ]
Christ. Christ, I -
Just keep it still. I can heal it, I have the blessing! Keep it still.
[ And he does. He presses his hand against Adam's arm, and he wills it to heal with all of his strength.
Wills it, and yet it doesn't work like it should. Gansey looks up at Ronan, panic barely contained behind his eyes. ]
no subject
At the first flash of red, Ronan goes still, even as Gansey drags Adam to the floor. Adam is looking at his arm, Gansey is panicking trying to heal him and Ronan just stands there, feeling as the weight of the world shifts under his feet. He wants to rush to Adam's side, to comfort him, to hold him and look at his arm and take this all in together, but he can't. He wants to pull Gansey off and tell him to stop crowding him, but he can't. All he can do is stand there and watch as rivulets of blood trickle down Adam's skin and drip onto the floor.
Gansey looks at him like maybe he'll know what to do, but Ronan isn't even sure if he can move. Adam is on the ground, Adam is cataloging the damage to his arm, and they all know what happens when you're bitten, they all know that it's just a matter of time.
He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. He can't say anything, can't do anything, and Ronan struggles to breathe, his expression painful and fractured before he tries to swallow down the emotion and the low, deep churn of his heart shutting down.]
No.
[He falls to his knees in front of Adam in slow motion, reaching for his arm to look at the bloody indentation of teeth against skin. It's difficult to breathe. It doesn't feel real. His voice, when he speaks is hollow, distant, unable to really overcome the waves of shock rippling through him.]
I'll dream something- a cure. Ten minutes. I'll fix it.
no subject
And he's going to die. He knows how it goes, they all do. It won't be permanent, he tells himself, but it doesn't really help. Knowing that doesn't help when it doesn't change the basic facts. Gansey's healing isn't working, and Adam can't say he's surprised. The gods made this, why would they let their powers work against it?
His thoughts feel distant, far away, and the rest of him feels cold. The pain hits then, past his shock, and he gasps. But this - well, it's just a bite, he's had worse, it's what the bite carries that's truly frightening.
He has to focus. He has to figure out what to do. Gansey's healing isn't working, and he feels a spark of hope when Ronan mentions his dreams - but that'll take time, and it's not a guarantee. If Gansey's healing doesn't work, why would something Ronan pulled out of his dreams? If they want this virus to be undefeatable, Ronan isn't going to be able to do it either.]
No. I don't - there isn't enough time. We don't even know what would work.
[He doesn't think it happens instantly, turning into one of them, but he knows it can't take very long. But he's been learning more and more at the clinic, and the solution seems obvious.]
We have to stop the infection as fast as possible. Somebody get a knife.
[Adam is detached, has to stay detached, or he's going to fall to pieces and then they'll be lost. He clings to his composure, just barely.]
no subject
Somebody get a knife. That breaks his focus like nothing else. ]
Wh - no! No. [ His eyes fix firmly on Adam's. ] There has to be another way. I'm holding it back.
[ Barely. And focusing on talking at the same time is making it harder, but he's not about to complain about that. The glowing symbol on his hand is evidence that it's still working, and sweat is beading on Gansey's head. He can hold this. He knows he can. ]
Ronan, dream a cure. Do it now, I can hold it until you do.
no subject
But he seems to be holding it back for now, and Ronan knows that Adam will be frustrated that they're not listening to him, but how could they, when he's suggesting something as awful as cutting the infection out? If Gansey can keep this from spreading then Ronan will have enough time to try and dream something for him.
So he nods wordlessly and steps back, making sure that the two of them are going to be stable for another moment or two before he darts into his room. He's quick, jerking a drawer in his nightstand open and grabbing the pills he's had there for months now. It's faster this way, even if it is more destructive, and he moves back out to the living room, sitting near the two of them. This has to work- he doesn't know what he'll do if it doesn't.
Well... he does know, but even thinking about it is unbearable, but he knows that they need a backup plan and so he looks to Adam for a moment, his jaw set.]
I'll get both a cure and the- you know.
[Even if he doesn't think that any of them could actually hurt Adam like that, it's better to do it with a knife specifically made for it than one they found in the kitchen. Ronan nods toward both of them, before tossing a pill in his mouth, swallowing it dry.
He has just enough time to wonder if the pills lose their effectiveness before it hits him like a truck and he slumps over onto the floor, completely passed out.]
no subject
Ronan isn't going to be able to dream up a cure, and every minute he wastes trying means the infection is advancing. Adam doesn't know how long it'll be before his plan - their backup plan, apparently, since no one's listening to him - will stop working.
As difficult as this is, as much as he would rather not be forced to these lengths, the alternative is worse. If they don't catch the infection in time, Adam will die. The only question is whether he'll die before or after he turns - and that'll be his choice. There's no way he's going to let himself become one of those things, turn on his friends like that.
He's frozen with shock, with fear of what might come and anger at not being listened to. Maybe later he'll be able to appreciate that Gansey and Ronan don't want to hurt him, that they want to exhaust every other option first, but right now all he can think of is that time is passing, that he doesn't know how effective Gansey's healing is, that it might end up being too late.]
There isn't another way.
[That's all he can say. But he can't talk Gansey into doing this on his own, even if it's what needs to be done. And Ronan will follow Gansey's lead, like he always does, regardless of what Adam says. He's angry, he's scared, but he can't do this by himself. He knows he isn't strong enough for that.]
no subject
Maybe if Blue could amplify...
Christ, it's harder by the second. His eyes flick to Ronan's prone form. He needs to wake up. And meanwhile, Adam is still begging them to mutilate him. ]
There has to be another way. [ His words are sharp and wrung out. ] We have to try. This isn't going to beat us, Adam!
Just...lie still. I have this.
[ He does not have this. It's going to slip from his grasp at any moment; it's like trying to hold a snake that keeps finding a new way to escape his hands. He glances at Ronan again. ]
Come on, Lynch.
no subject
And so he hits the ground running, attracted immediately to the metallic gleam of a knife and a jar of... something. Ronan doesn't think, just takes them both, grasping the knife as if it will turn back and cut him, and tucking the jar against his chest with his eyes squeezed shut as he tries to press every bit of dream magic into it, changing the contents to be more effective, faster acting, just- better.
The trees fall silent after the initial questioning that Ronan didn't respond to, and he hears the all-too-familiar rush of wings a moment later. No time. In and out-
He gasps for breath on the floor of their house, his eyes snapping open as the jar exists on his chest, the knife in his curled fingers. The first object is about four inches in diameter, made of some sort of opaque glass, with a lid that's sealed on with a little bit of pressure. The knife is- well, it's ruthless, sharp and wickedly flat along the blade, with an edge that already seems to be cutting into the couch where it's digging in.
It takes him a minute after waking up- it always does, no matter how much he's screaming at himself to move, tend to Adam and make sure that this doesn't spread any further than it has to. Once he can finally move, he feels sloppy, drunk, and he lets go of the knife so he can roll himself ungracefully to his side, before swaying upright, blinking his eyes to focus on the situation before him.
The jar has rolled off of his stomach and he grabs at it with uncoordinated fingers, sliding himself closer to the both of them before wrenching the top off of the lid. There's a sort of paste inside, thick and light green, and Ronan dips his fingers in it immediately, reaching for Adam's arm to try and smear it over the injury.]
Here, just- stay still.
[Ronan still feels and sounds a little breathless, but he's not allowing any time to get in his way and instead focuses on trying to spread the salve across as much of the wound as he can. It should counteract the agent, maybe pull the infection out from Adam's blood- he's not sure, but he dreamt it to work, and so it has to.]
no subject
He doesn't think it will work, but of course part of him want it to. He wants to be proven wrong, he wants to be fixed that easily. Gansey is holding it back, and Ronan is dreaming, and maybe it's not impossible.
Then Ronan wakes up, and the knife is there. It's what they'll need, Adam thinks, but even so he doesn't quite want to look at it. He forces himself to, forces himself to confront this. If Ronan's salve doesn't work, that's his only option.
He watches Ronan spread it over his wound. It doesn't feel any different, but would it? It isn't as if he can so easily feel the infection spreading inside him. Gansey would know better than him, with his god-given magic.]
Is it working?
[He doesn't like the way he sounds, frightened and almost hopeful. He swallows hard, evens his voice out, looks at Ronan's hands on his arm instead of anything else.]
I don't feel any different.
no subject
[ Gansey’s relief at the appearance of the glass pot is almost undone by the sight of the knife. Even from a distance he can see how sharp it is, how deadly. He tears his eyes from it, focusing on the salve. Ronan’s fingers spread it over, and Gansey takes a breath. The virus is still straining at him.
Give it time. After a few moments, it seems like it’s starting to work. He isn’t having to strain so hard, and the virus still isn’t spreading. It’s also not dying, but it’s movement has certainly been slowed. ]
Keep going.
[ To Ronan. He’s still not looking at the knife. He concentrates on pushing it back, and it seems to move, just a little. Gansey’s eyes, tired and drawn now, move to Adam. ]
It’s working. I think it’s –
[ And then it’s not, because it’s fighting back harder than before. Gansey’s hand glows brighter, while Hope’s magic tries to compensate. But it’s not enough, and he knows it. This virus is no normal illness, and Hope’s power is not equipped to deal with it. ]
--fighting back. Christ. Use more, Ronan, I’m not…I can’t hold it for much longer.
[ He certainly can’t eradicate it completely. ]
no subject
More salve isn't going to fix it. That's not how Ronan dreamed it to work, but he certainly doesn't want to give up the ghost quite yet. He glances toward the knife for a quick moment before his jaw goes tight and he scoots closer, dipping his fingers through the jar again and pressing more of it up against the injury, willing it to work. It's a dream thing, and they have Gansey's magic, so- why isn't this working?]
Come on!
[He yells it in the general direction of Adam's arm, his teeth grit tightly. There's enough caked on there that it'd be difficult to really apply more, but he does anyway, before reaching a slimy hand up to grip at Adam's bicep, squeezing tightly in a vain attempt to both reassure him and maybe restrict bloodflow.
Time is running out. He thinks back on the knife and grows more desperate.]
Try harder!
no subject
Ronan, don't, he's already doing everything he can.
[He swallows, trying to step outside of himself and view the situation objectively. It isn't so hard, it's something he used to do all the time, trying to move past his fear and find the right thing to say or do. It didn't always work - often didn't work at all - but sometimes it made things easier. Less immediate. It may not necessarily have been healthy, either, but survival is more important than that.
He keeps his voice steady, but even he can hear how tight it is.]
It's not going to work. We have to -
[He doesn't know if Ronan will be able to do it. He doesn't know if Gansey will, either, but he knows that he can't do it by himself.]
Get the knife.
no subject
It doesn't move. He's hit some kind of plateau: the magic is giving all that it has to give, and it isn't enough. He can't will it to be more powerful than it is. He thinks again of the cave, of Glendower's bones turned to dust. How he had tried to make them live and it hadn't worked, because it wasn't just a matter of having power: it was a matter of circumstance, too. The conditions have to be right. That's how this feels. Adam was right, as usual. There wasn't ever any other way.
He tries to think about the knife and his thoughts scatter like static. His eyes close. ]
I'm so sorry.
[ And then he looks up at Ronan and nods, just the once. They'll do it together. For Adam's sake, they have to. ]
no subject
[It's hushed, barely audible amidst the yelling and commands and apologies being thrown around- a flat out refusal to accept the situation, even when it's there and presenting itself so plainly. Adam is going to die if they don't fix it and if he does then his corpse will try to hurt them as well. If they don't save him now, they're dooming him, putting themselves in danger, and even though Ronan doesn't care about the latter part of that right now, he knows that Adam would never forgive himself if he hurt any of them.
He feels lost, spiraling, beating himself against a wall that won't budge. There's nothing, he tried dreaming a cure, tried using Gansey's magic, tried everything, but the blackness seeps into Adam's wounds regardless, and Ronan's eyes cut over to the knife, his teeth grit in indecision. It's Adam's life or his arm, and if he keeps telling himself that, then maybe he can do this.
No emotion. No feeling, just action with instincts to guide him, like slamming onto the gas pedal, like throwing a punch, like- like-
Like taking off Adam's arm. Cutting off a piece of him, his delicate wrists, his intricate fingers, the creases in his palm that Ronan has absentmindedly traced on more than a couple of lazy mornings. There's no thinking about that, there's just Adam's death looming in the distance and Gansey's apology and Adam telling him to do it do it, just do it- you love him, don't you?
His fingers are starting to go numb. He's hyperventilating, he doesn't have time for a panic attack- none of them do- and so Ronan holds his breath for a moment and nods, reaching to grab for the handle of the impossibly-sharp knife. Don't think. Don't feel. Just do.]
Lay him down.
[He tells this to Gansey, his voice choked off and strained. He's not going to cry- he's not going to feel anything, because Adam is going to die if he lets his feelings get in the way. He knows that and Adam knows that and Gansey knows that, and if Ronan's own fucking feelings gets in the way and causes Adam's death, then they'll all know it was because he wasn't strong enough for this.
Ronan closes his eyes and lets himself breathe once, before refocusing, opening, and looking up at Gansey, his eyes sharp and dangerous as his fingers grip tighter at the handle of the knife.]
On his back. Arm out- lean over him, put your hands on his elbow. [God, he's doing this- god, they're going to do this. The tremble in his voice betrays him, but otherwise Ronan is pointed, using every bit of his cold ruthlessness to armor him for the next thirty seconds.]
Heal the- the bleeding. Fuck. [Breathe.
Adam needs him to do this. Gansey can't cut and heal. This hinges on Ronan's ability to swallow his horror and despair and just do this. If he could have saved Niall by cutting off his arm, wouldn't he have? If he could have saved his mother, or even any of the others who died- it's no question, of course he would have. So he has to do it now.
This next little bit is aimed at Adam, and Ronan levels his gaze at him, piercing, searching for any sort of hesitation, any reason, possibility, or backing out. Adam has the final say, but Ronan has forced himself to the point where he will do it if Adam says yes.]
You're sure. One hundred percent.
no subject
But even if there is another way, even if it doesn't work, in this moment there's nothing else they can do. Cabeswater curls in the back of his mind, not understanding the danger, unable to help, unable to do anything but help him stand at a remove, help him disconnect far enough to get through this. It's always easier when he's wrapped in leaves and branches and vines. If they don't do this, they'll simply be allowing the infection to take him, and Adam can't stand the thought of that.
Dying is one thing - if it was just that, he would be afraid, but he could do it. He doesn't want to die, but he knows people come back here, and he could make it through. But it's not just dying. It's dying and losing himself and losing control, it's dying and turning into something else, it's dying and hurting his friends. He can't do that, he can't accept the possibility of it. If this is the only thing that can prevent that, he'll do it.
So he's lying when he looks at Ronan, but not as much as he could be. He's not sure this is the only option. He is sure that it needs to be done.]
I'm sure.
[He's careful, he's very careful not to let his voice waver. He feels frozen in this moment, distant from himself, terrified but blocking it away because he can't do anything else. Adam knows, though, that he's asking them to do something terrible - to hurt him like this, two of the only people in any world who have ever cared about him. He wishes he could find somebody else, people who wouldn't be damaged by what he's asking, but there's no time and he wouldn't be able to trust them anyway. He'd break, he might not be able to go through with it.
But it's Ronan and Gansey, so he has to. There's no other choice. He knows, though, that it's wrong, that they'll be hurt, that they don't want to do this. But the guilt can come later. Right now, he has to do what needs to be done, because he's Adam Parrish, and that's his job.
He takes a breath. He wants to close his eyes, but he doesn't. He knows he isn't strong enough to keep from reacting, from screaming, from falling apart afterward, but he'll try as hard as he can.]
Do it now, before it can get any worse.
no subject
But if they could have removed a part, just one part, to get the demon out, wouldn't they do it? Wouldn't they have done anything they could do to save their friend's mind? There are two ways this could go down, as far as Gansey can see. They take off the hand, and stop the infection. Or they let Adam turn and then kill him, so that Hope can bring him back new.
That would mean dying. Gansey has died twice in his life, and he knows that you can't just give yourself to that and not be changed by it. A hand is so much less than a life. If Hope can grow whole bodies, he can grow a damned hand.
He looks firmly at Ronan. ]
We do this. We save him now, and when this is over, we take him to Hope for healing. He brings people back; he can fix your hand, Adam.
We have to have faith.
[ The symbol on Gansey's hand blazes brighter, even though there's no more it can do. Gansey is good at having faith. They'll do what they have to do and Adam will be all right. He has to believe that. He tightens his grip, ready to heal as soon as the cut has been made.
It hasn't occurred to him that Adam will scream. It hasn't occurred to him to give him something to bite on. Practicalities aren't in his head. He just wants to do this quickly. He can still feel the threads of the illness under his hands, pushing at him and working hard to get past the healing he's still doing. His hands are covered in Ronan's dream medicine, and he can feel the virus remaking itself around them both. Nothing should be able to do that, not so quickly. He breathes hard, shoulders trembling. No matter what, he absolutely can't keep this up any longer. And as soon as he lets go, it will be moving again. More than Adam's hand will be at risk. ]
Ronan. The infection.
no subject
They're moving, Adam is laying down so he can do it, and everything is happening too fast, he's not ready, but he has to be, there's no other option. He thinks about Adam giving into the virus, dying in front of his eyes, and this is the kinder option, isn't it?
Gansey moves, holding back the illness as well as he can, and Ronan feels like he can't breathe but he gets up on his knees before Adam, forcing himself not to look at his face, not to gently touch his hand, not to do anything but wrap the fingers of his left hand around the other boy's wrist to hold him down and in place. Adam's arm is thin and fragile, and Ronan has slid his fingers up the delicate lines of his forearm, Ronan knows where each freckle is, Ronan's taken those fingers into his mouth-]
I'm sorry.
[It barely comes out as a whisper as he raises the knife up, trusting Gansey to try and obscure Adam's vision while his fingers tighten on the hilt. Every cell in Ronan's body is tuned to the sound of Adam's voice- if he tells him to stop then he will, no hesitation, no qualms... but he doesn't. There's just the sound of his shaky, frightened breathing and Gansey's raw determination. There's nothing else.
Unlike most of Ronan's dream things, the knife isn't particularly beautiful. There's no gentle curve to it or artwork along the hilt. He dreamt it for one purpose and one purpose alone and it excels in it- the blade is rigid, long and several inches in length from the edge to the spine. The edge of it is filed to a point that shouldn't even be physically possible, a point capable of snapping quickly through bone so that there won't be any sawing, so that Ronan can at least save Adam from the pain of feeling something working through him.
If he does this right, he'll only need to make one cut. He has to do it perfectly, precisely, and he can't hesitate, can't pull back any strength or power. He's going to do this. Ronan closes his eyes and, just for a moment, takes himself away from here.
He thinks about a lazy weekend at the Barns, with easy sunlight hazing through the morning air, about a fluffy blanket thrown down over the grass, a picnic basket, Adam's laughter after Blue says something particularly scathing. He thinks about Chainsaw flying overhead and Gansey flushing in embarrassment while Henry- even Henry- offers him a roguish wink. He thinks about his father, kneeling over a young calf with a broken leg, grim and easing her down before sending Ronan and his brothers away. Sometimes there's nothing you can do.
He thinks about how the barn smelled like death for a day afterward. He thinks about blood in the driveway, on the grass, soaking into the sidewalk. He thinks about how he owes Adam this much at least, how he wouldn't trust anyone else to do this.
Ronan opens his eyes, focused and sharper than the knife he's holding, quiet and intense, his fingers tightening on Adam's wrist.]
Deep breath.
[He practically whispers it through his own closed-off throat before he moves. He doesn't let himself think about it, doesn't give himself the time to pull back, just moves, his body just a map of impulse and action, muscle tightening, striking, pushing down with all of his strength and weight.
It happens.
The knife bites into the floor beneath Adam's arm, two pieces of flesh bisected by steel. There's blood- of course there's blood, there's Ronan holding onto Adam's wrist with one hand, even though he doesn't need to anymore. His other is white-knuckled on the hilt of the knife, pushing it into the floor, every muscle in his body tense to snapping even though he's not the one who was just maimed.
And then there's... nothing, for a second as his mind goes perfectly blank in the wake of it all, every process that he could fall back on instead reverting back to shock and horror. Whatever happens in the next few seconds- staunching the bleeding, reassuring Adam, doing anything- is going to have to rely on Gansey.]
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Or maybe it is the pain, because that's almost too much. Adam has been the recipient of more pain in his short life than most people have. He's been bruised and beaten, slapped and kicked. But this is something else, this is a pain unlike anything he's felt before. Different, sharp and overwhelming and so complete. He can't focus on anything else.
A lot of thoughts spill through his head, none of them long enough to stick, shattered apart by the pain and sudden shock of it. His guilt at making them do this - what is he going to do, how can he possibly make up for forcing two of the people he cares for most in the world to hurt him? Even if it was necessary, that doesn't make it right. Adam's always been willing to do what needs to be done, but part of that is knowing when it's wrong, even if it's necessary. If there had been any other way -
But there wasn't. There isn't, and even now he can't be sure it worked. He hopes they were fast enough, he hopes the infection has been cut out of him, but he doesn't know. Gansey will know, he thinks, but he doesn't have the voice to ask, doesn't have the processing power to pull together the question. Not while he's bleeding, not while he's realizing it really happened, his hand is really gone.
Adam's body is scarred and permanently damaged already. But this is self-inflicted - does that make it better or worse? He'll probably be able to get his hand back, that must make it better. But he chose this, this pain can't be laid at the foot of anywhere else.
He thinks those things, all of them, but none clearly enough to coalesce into an actual thought, or words, or actions. All he can do in this moment is breathe ragged, sharp breaths, quiet wounded gasps now that he's stopped screaming. He should tell Gansey to heal it, he knows, but he can't seem to speak. He can't seem to do anything but look at his blood on the floor and - everything else.]
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He's as responsible for that sound as Ronan. This is only happening because it was a wound he couldn't heal, and an attack he couldn't plan around.
But with the loss of the hand comes a lifeline. The virus that he had been given everything to hold back is suddenly gone, and all the power that he had been putting into keeping it at bay is suddenly free to act. Gansey barely needs to direct it. The back of his hand glows brightly, engulfing the stump where Adam's hand used to be, and the wound is sealed as if it had never been. Gansey stares at it as the light fades. It's hard to believe that cut was only just made. It's perfect, as if it had always been that way.
Which means that Adam won't bleed to death, and that's about the best he can say about it.
He feels numb. Heat presses at the edge of his vision, and there's an awful buzzing in his ears. He feels like panic is just an inch away, and he can't let himself do it, can't let himself give into it. He leans over Adam, curving over him as if he can belatedly protect him from what's already happened. ]
I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. [ He keeps saying it, over and over again. His arms wrap around his friend's shoulders, and he leans down, forehead touching to Adam's. ]
We'll fix this. I promise you we will. It's going...
It's going to be all right.
[ It has to be. Hope has to fix Adam's hand. Ronan can't have that cut on his conscience and Adam can't have been maimed by the two people he trusts most. Gansey feels his hands shaking, and holds his friend tighter. ]
You'll be safe now. We'll keep you safe.
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Adam is screaming, Gansey is reassuring, Ronan is- blank, cold with it and staring down at the carnage that he'd created, the piece of Adam that's no longer a part of him because of what Ronan did. He was sure- wasn't he? Gansey said there was no other option, Adam said he was sure, and now he's- and now this-
His fingers are growing numb. The arm he's holding onto is going cold and even though the bite is right there, and Ronan can see the infection that was taking hold, blackness tracing along his veins, it's not enough to justify what he'd just done in his mind.]
Adam...
[It's not likely that anyone will hear him with the other noise going on. Ronan's voice is soft and vulnerable, shaking with it as he slowly uncurls his fingers from the knife, forcing himself to let go of it in short, jerky movements. Gansey is covering Adam, reassuring him as best he can, and so he only has the space to reach out and press his shaking hand against Adam's side, curling his fingers against him, feeling the warmth of him.
His other hand is still there, around Adam's arm. Part of him doesn't want to- can't- move it, as if that's the only thing keeping the limb real and alive and this is the last time he'll touch it and he's been touching it since before he struck and so if he lets go then- then that's the end of it. To be honest, Ronan doesn't understand his own reasoning with that one, but he refuses to let it go all the same, stuck in a circular pattern of listening to the screams, watching Gansey, staring at the mess of blood, feeling the warmth of Adam's side, feeling the cooling skin of his arm. He can't let go. He can't do anything.]
Adam- I'm s- I can't, I, I don't... [It's hushed still, inaudible as language fails him despite his attempts to stutter out some form of apology. Tears well up in his eyes, belated, and Ronan tries to fight them back, because this isn't what they need right now and he hasn't cried since Gansey, but it's a losing battle. All of this seems like a losing battle, right now.]
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Right now, though, he doesn't. He barely hears it. He knows they're there - he knows Gansey is worrying over him, Ronan is having trouble keeping himself together. He knows that he should try to be strong and stable and practical, that he should point out it was necessary, be reassuring, tell them he'll be fine.
He can't, though. He can barely breathe. Distantly, he knows it shouldn't be surprising - he's learned enough at the clinic to know about shock, both physical and mental, and the effects it can have on a person. He knows what trauma can do. Why should he be any different?
He just lost his hand. Part of his arm. Not enough blood to be dangerous, at least, but that's no comfort. Not to his mind, not to his body after the physical shock of losing a limb. He tries to focus, but it's a losing battle, and frankly, he doesn't want to. Gansey and Ronan will be safe. He'll survive. That's all that matters, and everything else -
Everything else, he just wants to go away until he can face it again. He closes his eyes, and Cabeswater is there, curling its limbs and branches around him, and he doesn't see any reason not to let it. He can deal with this later. As embarrassing as it might be to pass out right now, staying conscious is too much. Too difficult.
So he doesn't even try.]
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And his hands.
And one of his hands is gone and Ronan is still holding it, even while it blackens and rots with the virus. Even while it doesn't look so very much like Adam's hand at all anymore.
He looks up at Ronan. His eyes are hollow, but Ronan's are worse. After what Ronan just had to do, he can understand that. He cannot panic right now. He has to take charge, because he knows that's what Ronan needs, and Adam is in no position to comfort either of them. So it has to be him, it has to be Gansey. He has to be the one to keep his head. ]
He's...he's out cold.
[ Gansey's voice sounds very far away. He clears his throat, and focuses on Ronan's face. One thing at a time. He can do that. They both can, if they have to. ]
Ronan. We need to get him to a bed. Away from...from the blood, and we need to keep him warm. The rest of us can wait, you and I can wait. He needs us now. So help me get him up, and then we can...
Just help me.
[ He's careful, moving one arm beneath Adam's shoulders to support him. ]
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It ends in little more than a curved stump, just below his elbow. Ronan stares at it for a moment, transfixed by the sight, the realization, I did that, and it's with a muted horror that he realizes that he's still holding the other piece of him, even when Adam's body has pulled back and separated from it.
The knife is still stuck in the floor, upright and pressed against the blackened piece of Adam's arm. Ronan turns away from Gansey to look at it for a moment, stunned, but- help me, Gansey says, and Ronan can't not obey him. Gansey is a commander, Gansey is a king, Gansey knows what to do and Ronan- even in this state- is helpless but to follow his instructions.
Ordinarily, he's strong enough to lift Adam into his arms, but he's shaking too much, too high off of the adrenaline rush, to do it without help. He takes Adam's legs, helping Gansey get his upper torso, before shakily lifting his limp body together.
The two of them stumble into Adam's room like that, leaving the rest of it on the floor behind them. His bed is messy, one of Ronan's shirts is tossed over the headboard and the sheets are a tangled disaster, but it's easy enough to ease Adam into it and make some kind of order out of the blankets below him.
Gansey is still next to him when it's done, and Ronan breathes out heavily, before glancing over toward him.]
...thank you.
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He doesn't want to think about it. He can't think about it, or he won't be able to do anything but stare. He needs to help Adam. He needs to help Ronan, too. Carefully, he lifts the sheet up and over both arms and tucks Adam into the warmth.
Outside, he can still hear the zombies. They can just about be heard over the buzzing in his ears.
He looks up to find Ronan beside him. His friend is pale and shadowed, and Gansey can't stop thinking about what he just had to make himself do.
"There wasn't any choice."
He tries to inject force into that, to make it firm.
"He would never have forgiven us if we'd let it take him. We'll go to Hope, and we'll fix this, Ronan. It's going to be all right. We can help him until it is."
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Yeah.
[His throat is hoarse but he nods, taking a small step back from the bed and from Adam's unconscious figure. He knows that they have to clean up, knows that they can't just leave the blood and decaying flesh on the floor, to change out of the bloody clothes, shower, but to walk away now feels wrong, after everything. Ronan won't force Gansey to deal with it all, but he's torn, and he glances to the door before biting at his lip and turning his gaze back toward Adam.]
I don't- I don't want him to wake up alone.
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Ronan's voice comes back, stronger than before. Gansey makes himself nod. ]
No. No, he shouldn't. You...should stay with him.
[ Because Ronan loves him, and Ronan can comfort him. And Ronan just had to take Adam's hand off, and there needs to be a way for them both to deal with that. Gansey glances up, arranging his face. It's not quite a smile, but it's a solid mask that pretends at resilience that Gansey doesn't feel. He nods. ]
Call me if you need anything.
[ And then he retreats, back into the main room. For a second or two he looks at the door he's just shut behind him. He has to physically steel himself before he looks back at the chaos around him. Then he takes it all in at once; the floor, the knife, the blood, the furniture, the mess. All of it. And he goes to the kitchen, fills bowls of water from the sink, and then he comes back, and he deals with it.
He concentrates on the physicality of it. It's like when he can't sleep, and he takes himself swimming, or driving, and let's his body organize itself when his mind cannot. That's what he does now. He doesn't let himself think or rest, he just cleans the floor until the blood is gone, and the bowls of water are red. He empties them before he can spend time thinking about that, too, and then he's back in the room, straightening as much of the furniture as he can, and clearing anything that's broken off to a pile in one corner. Finally, when there's nothing else to be done, he turns to face the severed hand, where it still lies with the knife beside it.
By now, the infection has taken hold. It's shades of black and green, and no longer really looks like Adam's hand at all. If Gansey thinks about it like that, he can just about ignore the buzzing of the hornets in his ears. He can just about keep his vision focused. He goes to where his clothes are stored, and finds one of the t-shirts that he'd scavenged here. He takes it over to the hand, and very carefully, without directly touching the flesh, he wraps it up.
Then he has the problem of what to do with it. Taking it outside is not an option, not with those creatures still trying to get in. So he goes to the kitchen again, and searches violently until he finds an empty container. This used to hold ice cream, he recalls, which he'd found with Noah on that one week when everything turned into candy and happiness. Christ, that seems like a long time ago. He washes it out, and then puts the hand inside, sealing the lid firmly. Then it goes to the pile of broken furniture. They can remove it without needing to look at it. That will be better.
He manages not to throw up until he lifts the knife. That, this very last thing, is a step too far. He lifts it, and his hand shakes, and his stomach turns over. Gansey runs for the sink, and he doesn't know how long he's there. By the time he's empty, he feels like it's been a night and a day. It's probably only been minutes.
Shivering now, he has enough presence of mind to rinse it all away. He's struggling, feeling weakness spread through his limbs and blackness tug at the edge of his vision. The buzzing is getting louder, and he knows what it means. He can't tell now whether he feels cold, or far too hot. His knees are going to give out, and he's going to scream. His hand is already at his ears, brushing away insects that aren't even there.
He leans away from the sink, reaching to set the knife down. He means to do so gently, but his fingers lose purchase on it, and it clatters roughly to the metal. It spins before settling, and Gansey stares at it in confusion. He steps back, almost tripping over his own feet. His back hits the wall, and then he expects to hit the floor; he's sliding down, his hands over his ears.
He never gets there. As blackness overtakes his vision, he doesn't scream. He vanishes altogether, his body turning insubstantial and then disappearing as he's whisked back towards home. Oblivion overtakes him and he fights through it, knowing that Adam needs him, Ronan needs him, they're going to need his help -
But then his eyes open, and Blue's warm hand is against his cheek. He blinks through his confusion, and gasps air into his lungs as he pushes himself up to sit. And Adam is there, and Ronan is beside him in tears, and Henry is behind them both with horror in his eyes. Gansey tries to hold on to what he'd been feeling before, to memories that are already scattering - something was wrong with Adam, there was something about his hand - but Adam is there, and his hands are his own again, and Ronan has stopped crying and is moving closer to Gansey. And the memories that are clear to him are those of the demon, of sacrificing himself, of kissing Blue, who is wrapping her arms around him now. He hugs her back, still in shock.
Something was wrong. Something more than this was wrong, and yet it's gone. Vanished from his mind as if it were never there. All he remembers is the horror, and he shakes his head. His mouth tastes terrible. ]
I...Christ, I had the most awful dream.
[ He tells them all, but they're not upset. They're relieved, and clinging to him, and Gansey lets himself fall into that. He's survived. Somehow, everything is going to be all right. The dream, whatever it was, can be allowed to fade.
His friends are here, and he'll keep them safe. ]