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✈ day one hundred and seventy one, video
[Jack looks a little stressed. Understandably. He's got a mean five o'clock shadow going on, and from the angle he's got the journal at, you can see Scott standing by the door to the infirmary, looking similarly tense and worried, but okay. They're both fine.
They're just also alone, in the infirmary, with limited weapons, resources, and access to things like morphine and anything more useful than bandages and basic antiseptic.
(Jack's made do with less, but that doesn't stop the resentment from coiling in his gut again, setting him further on edge.)]
Scott and I are in the infirmary. It's safe, but the hall outside seems pretty bad.
[Or at least, Scott had said it smelled weird, and Jack is not really in a position to be doubting his teenage werewolf warden right now.]
If anyone needs medical attention, we're here, and we can help. If you're stuck and need help, call us, and I can try to talk you through how to get up here without hurting yourself or your friends worse. If you're in your room, get first aid kits, scissors, water, food, alcohol if you don't have anything else to sterilize a wound, anything that can be made into bandages. People are going to get hurt, and I will try to save you, but I can't do that if we're not being smart.
[And then his expression twists into something that's bitter and fond, and a little less psychotically focused, because he throws this out there like he doesn't mean it, but he does. Or at least, he's starting to again.]
Live together, die alone.
[Jack lets out a breath, composes himself again, and then the same incredibly focused energy is back in place of whatever that was.]
Has anyone seen Dillon or David?
They're just also alone, in the infirmary, with limited weapons, resources, and access to things like morphine and anything more useful than bandages and basic antiseptic.
(Jack's made do with less, but that doesn't stop the resentment from coiling in his gut again, setting him further on edge.)]
Scott and I are in the infirmary. It's safe, but the hall outside seems pretty bad.
[Or at least, Scott had said it smelled weird, and Jack is not really in a position to be doubting his teenage werewolf warden right now.]
If anyone needs medical attention, we're here, and we can help. If you're stuck and need help, call us, and I can try to talk you through how to get up here without hurting yourself or your friends worse. If you're in your room, get first aid kits, scissors, water, food, alcohol if you don't have anything else to sterilize a wound, anything that can be made into bandages. People are going to get hurt, and I will try to save you, but I can't do that if we're not being smart.
[And then his expression twists into something that's bitter and fond, and a little less psychotically focused, because he throws this out there like he doesn't mean it, but he does. Or at least, he's starting to again.]
Live together, die alone.
[Jack lets out a breath, composes himself again, and then the same incredibly focused energy is back in place of whatever that was.]
Has anyone seen Dillon or David?
no subject
[He hasn't actually tried this. But he can tell, just looking at it, that it maintains it's own order, even if he isn't sure exactly how. He sets down the comm, balanced perfectly on it's corner with a decent angled view, and walks over to a cotton candy stand that glints with razor wire, studies it a moment, then raps twice quick on a weak spot, just the right pace, the right pressure. The impacts resonate, amplify each other. A moment later the entire structure crumbles in a pink puff. And then starts to lever itself up again, like the rolling shoulders of a garish swamp creature emerging from the surface of the deck. By the time Dillon walks back over to his comm to pick it up, it's already a foot high again.]
Like that.
no subject
Do you think you could get up here safely? Is it more aggressive after it rebuilds?
no subject
I don't think so. But it does stay out of commission a little longer if I'm farther away.