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damned_institute2012-05-14 09:40 pm
pullstring) wrote in damned_institute2012-05-14 09:40 pm
Night 63: M71-M80 Hallway
[M79]
With how many times he seemed to black out and wake up, Woody figured all of this would have been old hat by now. But fading in and out of unconsciousness -- waking up, only to wake up again, like dreams stacked on top of more dreams -- wore down on a guy after awhile. That combined with the fact he was alone only made his dread firmly sit in the pit of his stomach, like a cold, heavy brick.
In fact, he wasn't just alone in the sense of being the only toy stuck here. He was actually alone-alone. As in, he could get gobbled alive, and no one would actually know.
Yeah. That kind of alone.
"Helloooo?" Woody called as he anxiously peered out of his room. "Zero? Anyone? Hi?"
He hadn't even heard an announcement from the Head Doctor. What did that mean, anyway? If he packed up and just left him here, what was going to happen? Would he starve? Would he ever see Andy again? He couldn't go find Buzz and search for Andy like this!
"Great," Woody grumbled as he threw a paranoid look over his shoulder. Now what was he going to do? With his clothes rod and flashlight in hand, he squared his shoulders, stepped out of the door--
...and promptly pressed his body against the wall, making his way forward inch by excruciating inch.
((To here.))
With how many times he seemed to black out and wake up, Woody figured all of this would have been old hat by now. But fading in and out of unconsciousness -- waking up, only to wake up again, like dreams stacked on top of more dreams -- wore down on a guy after awhile. That combined with the fact he was alone only made his dread firmly sit in the pit of his stomach, like a cold, heavy brick.
In fact, he wasn't just alone in the sense of being the only toy stuck here. He was actually alone-alone. As in, he could get gobbled alive, and no one would actually know.
Yeah. That kind of alone.
"Helloooo?" Woody called as he anxiously peered out of his room. "Zero? Anyone? Hi?"
He hadn't even heard an announcement from the Head Doctor. What did that mean, anyway? If he packed up and just left him here, what was going to happen? Would he starve? Would he ever see Andy again? He couldn't go find Buzz and search for Andy like this!
"Great," Woody grumbled as he threw a paranoid look over his shoulder. Now what was he going to do? With his clothes rod and flashlight in hand, he squared his shoulders, stepped out of the door--
...and promptly pressed his body against the wall, making his way forward inch by excruciating inch.
((To here.))
M73
Loki kept his pace brisk but unhurried as he returned to his room. He hadn't spoken to his roommate recently, and knew besides that all would be returned to order by morning, so he didn't feel the least bit bad about planning to put Castiel on that bed.
Loki retrieve one of the suture kits that he'd liberated from the supply room and set it on the desk, though he didn't open it quite yet. Instead, he pulled out the medical book about trauma that he'd liberated as well, and quickly paged through the section about suturing. It seemed simple enough. He also took out the anatomy book and glanced at the drawing of the musculature of the shoulder, since that would be important.
That done, he went into his closet to retrieve the spear. In the possessions box, he found two throwing knives, a curious gift. The balance on them indicated they'd been made for a much smaller person, but still they were fine quality and it brightened his evening even more.
Everything arranged to his liking, he opened the kit and inspected the contents, noting what each part was for. He arranged them to his liking as he waited for the others to arrive.
no subject
With the halls so abandoned (it was clear now that the three of them had made it further than most of the other prisoners), it didn't take long for Castiel to make his way to the north block and then navigate the halls until he found M73. His wound was bleeding without much sign of stopping, and at this point a decent amount of blood was sliding down his arm, which was surprisingly uncomfortable. It was causing his clothing to stick to his skin.
It should have been so easily fixed -- or rather, it shouldn't have been a problem in the first place -- but there was no point in dwelling on how things were supposed to be. This problem needed to be handled, and apparently Lingormr was willing to help.
Castiel still didn't understand why the man had been so generous with him so far. Usually humans were focused on themselves; that was their nature. Sam and Dean were exceptions, and perhaps Lingormr was as well. But there was something odd about him which Castiel couldn't entirely pinpoint. Either way, he was in no position to refuse help.
He reached M73 and knocked on the door three times with his good hand, holding his blade in the injured one. Nothing had attacked him on the way here, so it could be said that him retrieving his weapon had been a waste, but he couldn't say he regretted it.
no subject
He hoped that Soma would show up soon, though.
Worried about someone, Loki? How odd.
He shook his head to clear away the thought and waved Castiel inside. "Sit there," he said, pointing at his roommate's bed. "I think I've found a suitable place to set this flashlight, but more light would be better. Your shirt and jacket will need to come off; I have scissors if those are needed. Will you be able to hold still whilst I sew?"
no subject
He hadn't thought to bring a flashlight with him and winced in frustration as a result, but realized that whoever usually slept here, they were nowhere near here at the moment. He reached out with his good hand and fished under the pillow, finding an extra flashlight there.
"This should add some light," he said, leaning over to set it down on the closest desk. At that point he threw his jacket off and then pulled his shirt up over his head, hissing in pain when the fabric caught against the wound. Still, he managed to peel it off, revealing the jagged mess that the bird had made of his shoulder. "I'll remain as still as possible." He was certain that if he concentrated, he could be as unmoving as a statue. That was the idea, in any case.
no subject
And here was Lingormr's room, if Soma remembered correctly. It was too bad she'd given her box of drugs to Peter; the Vicodin and gauze would have come in handy.
Still, the medical wing wasn't too far a walk. That was always a possibility. Soma knocked twice, firmly, and stood back to wait.
no subject
It was about what he'd expected. He'd seen wounds like that before. He pulled a clean shirt from one of the closets and used that to wipe away the worst of the blood. It wasn't as clean as it could be, but there was disinfectant in the suture kit to take care of the worst.
Loki returned to the kit and pulled on the gloves he found there, frowning a little at the feeling of latex, not to mention the smell. There was a device with a sponge on it inside; he had to fiddle with it a bit to crack the internal vial of disinfectant, but after that he carefully swabbed the wound and the surrounding area down.
That done, he took up the particular tool that had been described in the book as a 'hemostat' and used that to take up the pre-threaded needle. Loki felt an odd amount of trepidation as he regarded Castiel's still-bleeding shoulder, mixed with the curiousity of trying something new, of attempting to apply something he'd just taught himself from a book.
"Well then," he said, mostly to himself. "Let's have an adventure, shall we?" With that, he began sewing Castiel's flesh back together.
At which point Soma knocked on the door. Loki kept his hand steady. "Let yourself in, dear," he called. "My hands are a bit busy."
no subject
He had seen Dean and Sam do this before, but usually they used something to help with the pain. They didn't have that here, which meant that there wasn't much he could do but bear it.
On top of that, he knew for a fact that Lingormr wasn't practiced with doing any of this. While he didn't have a particular attachment to his vessel, he was still trapped in it for now, and felt that he should try to take decent care of it. It might have made more sense to wait until morning, seeing how the nurses usually took care of this overnight when he didn't have to be exposed to any of it.
It was too late to back out now, however. Soma had apparently found her way here, but Castiel couldn't even risk saying something in response to her knock. It was best to remain completely silent and completely still until the worst was over. And just how long was that going to take?
no subject
She was a little less gratified to see Lingormr beginning on Castiel's shoulder, but that was a minor detail. She offered Castiel a small, encouraging smile that was as much for herself as it was for him. The smell of fresh blood brought back recent images she didn't really want to consider.
Not wishing to distract either of them, and in any case not being one for useless words like I hope everything's going all right, she seated herself in the empty chair across from them to wait.
no subject
He glanced over his shoulder at Soma. "Could you please sit on this desk and direct a bit of light down from above?" he asked. "The better I can see what I'm doing, the easier I think this will be. And the neater."
He paused to wipe away a bit of blood and began another stitch.
no subject
That didn't mean he wanted to broadcast it, however, and so he remained silent as Lingormr continued to work. If Soma could give the man more light by which to see, that would also be for the best.
"I'm not concerned with how neat it is," he said through pursed lips. This body wasn't his in the first place, so he wouldn't be bothered by any scars it obtained. He thought briefly of Jimmy, but tried to forget about the man just as quickly.
no subject
She stayed quiet again, content to watch for now. It wasn't as if she had anything to offer in this area, anyway.
no subject
He shot Soma a brief smile before returning his attention to the task at hand. He was getting the hang of it now and his movements were more confident and quicker. Which was good, since there was quite a lot that needed to be stitched.
[Ooc: since they're not feeling so talkative, feel free to assume he gets the job done? ;)]