nighttime disasters || Lillian Collins || (OPEN)

[violetcollins]

LILLIAN COLLINS

She walked along the dirty, grime-covered street, desperate to get out of the skin-biting weather. Wrapping her thin shawl tighter around her, she shivered; nighttime was dawning, and all she wanted was to be inside by the feeble fire, safe and warm. Goosebumps arose on her arms, tickling all the way down to her ankles - she picked up the pace, long, wavy blonde hair bouncing behind her. Her face was, for once, cleaned of dirt; for she'd just stepped briefly into a small creek nearby, neatly washing off her arms and cheeks.
Her eyes anxiously darted around, angular jaw tightening as several twigs snapped underneath her shoes. She was on edge; for whatever reason, nighttime sparked a streak of fear into her head, creating a whole imagination of peacekeepers and loaded weapons.
Her pace quickened.
Her house not yet in sight, the teenager tightens the shawl around her pale skin; although the thin piece of cloth didn't do much to warm her, it was all she had, for everything else she'd grown out of. 

Caught in fearful thoughts, the girl didn't happen to notice a rather large stick jutting out of the dirt; before she could react, her foot caught hazardously between the wood and the ground, throwing her in a tumbling heap to the dirt, down a hill, and straight into a swarming pile of brambles.

With a surprised yelp(and a rather colorful curse-word), she winces, hands curling into fists as the thorns scrape and slash at her skin mercilessly. With a small groan, she attempts to pull herself out of the brambles - only to be shoved down again by a searing pain all through her left ankle; just her luck, a rather gaping wound had opened on her leg, blood spilling violently onto the dirt.
Hastily smacking a hand over her mouth, her eyes squeeze shut as the brambles continued to scrape at her tender skin. "Don't panic, Lillian. Don't panic." She mutters, trying hard not to move.
After a moment of pushing through the pain, she again feebly attempts to pull herself out of the bushes; to no avail. With each movement, the pain in her ankle only grew stronger, more urgent. A pang of fear struck.
"Crap." Lillian pulled back into the thorns, snatching her shawl and pressing it onto the wound, hoping to quench some of the blood-flow. Naturally, the move only increased the amount of prickles scraping and scratching at her skin; but, reluctantly, she pushed through the pain, applying more pressure. 
She glances around, wincing and yelping as the thorns scratch at her face. The hill she had tumbled down was steep; no one would be able to see her if they were passing by - and even if she had managed to escape from the brambles, there was no way she could climb back up that cliff, not with her wounded ankle.
She knew there was only one thing left to do.
"Help!"
( open. please reply c: )
( sorry if this sucks, i was in a rush when i wrote it. ^^ )
 

[crowley]

♫ Hard to be soft, tough to be tender ♫

In the Hob, Cove swept a soot-covered rag across his forehead to combat the beads of sweat dripping to his brow. His hair was soaked in the fluid from the heat of the congested black market. Now that the Games were taking place, many filled the mediocre stalls to place bets on tributes in hopes of making off rich for a few weeks. While Cove loved any crowd which he could sell his wares to, they all seemed to overlook him and his medicinal wares along with the pelts that his father had sewn together to make fair exterior pieces. The air felt like it was being choked down, and each breath drew in coal dust which would desecrate the physician's lungs, so he had to step out.

He inhaled the fresh, crisp night air and began to tread back towards his shoddy hut. Now that twilight was upon him, he realized just how long he'd been in the Hob and that he needed rest if he was going to pick up the sales rates tomorrow. "Being a good salesman is about presentability," he thought to himself. If nothing else, he had to keep clean and clear in case there were any surprise patients that he had to work on. Hygiene is the top priority in his line of work.

On his trek, he heard a heart-stopping scream which brought him to his senses. He followed the terrible sound down into a trench with careful footing after the moonlight bounced off a bed of thorns. The illumination also outlined a pale-haired girl who he could only assume to be the one who was bellowing for help.

"I'm here, stay calm. I'm a medic. I'll be able to help. Stay still so you don't lacerate yourself on those spines." He crept towards her, careful not to lose his footing and become the victim in the spider's web of agony. As he approached, he created a perch to keep grounded in the dirt while he closely analyzed Lillian's predicament.

(violetcollins)

[violetcollins]

Upon hearing a voice, Lillian immediately brightens, earnestly attempting to peer through the thorn bushes without getting snagged. She keeps the rest of her body still against the brambles, holding the thin shawl tightly to her wounded ankle and eagerly opening her mouth to reply.
"I'm here! Stuck in these bushes." She says, eyes flooding with relief. Just barely, she spots a boy's silhouette through the bushel. "I can see you, I think." Lillian squints against the dawning nighttime, wincing as her ankle throbs with the pressure. She yanks a long, blonde lock of her hair from the thorns, and anxiously attempts to wiggle her face free of the sharp hold of the brambles. Wincing and grimacing, she eventually pauses; with the blood spilling from her ankle, her attempts were growing weaker, more futile.
"Careful, there's thorns." She warns.

                         LILLIAN COLLINS

[crowley]

♫ Hard to be soft, tough to be tender ♫

Cove smirked from the girl's comment echoing the thought in his head about being surrounded by thorns.

"Yeah, I think that's why I'm here. To help you get out of them." He shook his head in sarcastic disdain, but his voice suddenly turned to scolding when he saw Lillian continuing to twitch. "Hey, stop moving. Keep still so you don't hurt yourself. I know it hurts, but moving's only gonna make it worse."

He dropped down as low as he could go without getting caught in the nettles, then used a worn blade to cut through the net of thorns surrounding the victim's ankle, then the ones tangled in her hair. This did not strip them from her being, but instead allowed her mobility.

"Can you walk? Can you climb back up? I need to get you somewhere safe to extract the plant and patch up your wounds."

(violetcollins)

[violetcollins]

Lillian rolls her eyes a little at his sarcastic remark, lightly smiling, and slowly removes the shawl from her ankle, gazing down at the wound. It was beginning to swell; though the amount of blood had quenched slightly. "I think so. My ankle took the blow when I fell; nothing else hurts too much." She says, carefully analyzing where she could move. Slowly and deliberately, she begins to pull herself slightly from the bushes.

( crowley )

[crowley]

♫ Hard to be soft, tough to be tender ♫

Cove scampered up the side of the ditch like a snake pushing swiftly through the sands. At the plateau of solid ground, he held his hand out for Lillian to grab in an attempt to hoist her up. Her ankle, after all, was in no condition to be walked in which he deduced from a quick assessment of how deep the brambles were lodged in her foot. While he had no strength, he could act as an anchor for Lillian to pull herself up. He dug his heels into the ground and stood steady to accommodate the weight of his new patient.

[violetcollins]

LILLIAN COLLINS

Lillian pushes through the pain as she limps her way up the cliff-like slope, grabbing any vine she could and Cove's hand for support. Careful not to put too much weight on her throbbing ankle, she hoists herself up with one leg; she could feel the blood loss affecting her strength as she finally got to the top of the hill, panting and grimacing. Wincing at all of the scratches from the thorns on her arms and legs, Lillian could only begin to imagine what her face looked like.
"Thank you." She managed a small smile, gazing up at Cove in absolute relief. She was convinced that she was going to be stuck down there, unable to move or adjust herself.

( crowley )

[crowley]

♫ Hard to be soft, tough to be tender ♫

The only thing scurrying through Cove's mind during his ascent was the treatment for a punctured ankle and lacerations on the outer layers of skin. Most importantly, what would his supply of medicine look like after he was done with Lillian? Would he have to account for this surprise patient in the Hob with more sales? Would their family have enough to eat for the month without tesserae? The calculations flowed through his mind while he had time to think during his walk back to the Seam where Lillian was expected to follow.

(if you want, we can move this over to a different thread since i have one open for cove's home. up to you, though. you can either post here or make a post in this thread)