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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!]
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.]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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."
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]