(closed) tyger tyger burning bright

[feyted]

Date & Time: January 19th (nebulous time)
Location: By the Hold; later on, the Transport Clinic
Characters: Sharpe, the Older Fey, and then they hope Ashraf
Summary: Sharpe comes back freshly whipped; Mia locates and drags to clinic; Ashraf's day is Made.
Warnings: Blood! And someone's called a whore again for the last time!!!

( The first thing Mia did when she got back was to make sure everyone important was accounted for and seen back to their apartments. The second thing she did was bathe.

Now she was on third, sending Maya a message even as she hit the streets and made her way toward the "law offices" attached to the police station. They were back: it meant it was again time to get to work. Seeing some of the blatant disregard that was entirely legal back in the 1900's in her own nation, she was all the more certain that some things did need to be established as concrete. The Exiles already lived according to unwritten laws: codifying them was closer now in the resulting fallout from Jesse Pinkman's trial.

She sighs, shaking her head, then firmly walking on. There was no time for hesitation. There was no time for -- )

Sharpe?!

( -- bloody semi-recognizable men huddled in corners?!? )

Comments

[incorrupt]

[ Sharpe doesn't like prison. He'll do a lot to get out of the prison from the Tippoo Sultan's place, 'specially since they're going to try to kill him, Lawford, and McCandless. But he likes this place even less, with the weather like the Yorkshire he's just run away from, except even worse, and having no goddamned idea how he gets here.

Last he knows, India has its damned monsoons, it does, but it ain't ever rain like this. And Sharpe's left without a damned shirt at that. He's been sleeping without one, because the flogging leaves wounds on his back that's still bleeding once in a while, 'specially whenever he tries to move even the littlest bit. Now he's been running for some time and he feels every single one of the scabs breaking open, and there's blood on his back.

He hopes there aren't wolves or wild animals 'round here. There's a few, in Yorkshire, 'round the edges of the forests leading to Ireland. Or at least, so Sharpe hears. But he's been bleeding for over an hour and there's no wolves. Either the rain is helping, or there's just no animals here.

At least he has his rifle. Though it's all wet now. Sharpe huddles beneath the awning of one particularly run-down building. At the sound of his name, he turns around, squinting through the rain. It's a woman- Mary? He squints a bit more. No, it can't be, so who- ]

Who the hell are you? [ He shifts slightly, butt of the rifle against his shoulder, the muzzle pointed at the figure. His head's spinning, just a bit, but his arms are steady. ]

[feyted]

( The network had been a sort of warning, she supposed -- but not one that made having a rifle pointed her way any more pleasant. She straightened, leveling her gaze on Sharpe and told herself this was just a matter of reassuring him that shooting was a bad idea.

If he could, in all this rain. )

Mia Fey, Defense Attorney. And a friend, if you don't mind pointing your gun elsewhere, Major Richard Sharpe.

( Only is he still a major? If this was before, then... whatever. She'd deal with that when the time came! )

You're bleeding. Will you let me help you?

[incorrupt]

[ Major? Major? Sharpe snorts - a Major of someone of his class, that's a damned joke. ]

I don't know you, and I ain't no Major, though me name is still Richard Sharpe. [ She knows his name, and that's something suspicious already. He looks at his back for a long moment, and the turning of his head tears a few more of the smaller, thinner scabs, and more blood spills down his back.

But like hell is he going to give in so easily. ]

Blood-letting's supposed ta be good, ain't it? [ Of course it isn't. He's known way too many soldiers who died of bloodloss to believe that. Yet- ]

I don't trust an attorney any.

[ But his head is spinning even harder than ever. Sharpe grits his teeth, settles his legs a little wider, and his hands shake, just so slightly. ]

[feyted]

( She manages not to roll her eyes, fairly certain it's some kind of traditional standard not to trust lawyers the worlds over for hundreds of years.

Gee. Wonder why. )

Then don't trust me further than making our way to the clinic. Bleeding like that's only good for leaving you weak and passed out, waiting to die.

( Not to mention the infection potential. Part of her notes this is one hell of an explanation for where he came across the scarring on his back.

She'd suspected, but... this is horrifying in its reality. )

As soon as you pass out I'm dragging you in anyway. It's your choice as to how soon you get there, and if you're walking in on your own two feet.

( Or if she calls a medic on his bleeding ass. )

SHIT. all above 'rifle' is 'musket'. i forgot ahahahah.

[incorrupt]

[ Sharpe barks a laugh immediately. ]

I can hear it from yer voice that yer a woman, and I don't think no woman can ever drag me.

[ He pauses, nonetheless. He knows that with the way his head is spinning, and with the rain washing the blood away before it can begin to scab again, he's going to bleed out if he doesn't get out of the rain, at the very least. Still, he hates surgeons, but- he lowers his rifle, limping over to her - what's her name again, Mia Fey or somethin' like that? - using the butt of his musket as a crutch. Can't stop it from getting wet now; good thing Wellesley's not looking.

But he can't stop himself from grumbling anyway. ]

I've seen a surgeon. All he did was ta pour good rum over me back and wrap me up in cloth 'fore he threw me out ta the tigers. [ Pretty much literally - don't the Tippoo Sultan have their tigers as well? Sharpe flinches slightly, and he looks at her. ]

Are you going ta go or are you going ta wait there? [ Pause. ] Ma'am.

ALL I SEE IS MUSKET /puts on corrective shades

[feyted]

Me? Looks like I'll be waiting right where I am.

( He's muttering nonsense about tigers and surgeons. Knowing what little she did about medical practices in his time, she doubts his idea of a surgeon is anything worth what one of the healers in the clinic can do.

Better than nothing, if their idea of curing you didn't kill you outright. )

You'd be surprised what a woman can manage. Feel like passing out yet? You're not looking too hot.

( Idioms of a different age. She continued to give him an unimpressed look, despite the concern she felt. He couldn't really die, not according to the Initiative, but it wasn't something she felt anyone needed to test unnecessarily. )

Re: ALL I SEE IS MUSKET /puts on corrective shades

[incorrupt]

[ Sharpe squints at her for those words. Now that doesn't make sense, about not 'looking hot'. Sharpe snorts. ]

It's raining like a buggerin' bastard [ don't ask how that makes sense or if buggering bastards actually rain ], or have you gone blind as well, ma'am? Unless you live in the North Pole or summat, you won't find this hot.

[ He finally limps over to stand next to her, turning to look at her in the eye as he leans hard against his rifle. ]

So where's this clinic of yers, or am I supposed ta find it meself?

[feyted]

( It's a step up from stubbornly refusing to listen at all. Her faux pas with the idiom she lets slide, since explaining it had little to do with temperature would take unnecessary time in arguing.

She has a feeling he's good for an argument if he's this snarky while bleeding out. )

Glad you can see sense through all that machismo.

( She nods her head toward the left, setting off down the road. A few steps on her way, she pauses, waiting for him. She'll match pace for the most part, figuring if he bowls over suddenly she can at least make the impact with the ground not quite as jarring as it'd be otherwise. )

[incorrupt]

[ There's probably an insult there in Mia's words, but Sharpe isn't really paying attention to what she's saying, given that he's trying to keep his eyes straight on the road. Trying to walk seems a little more difficult when he's actually trying to put one foot in front of the other, because movement itself seems to make his back ache even more, fire to lick across his skin, and his head to spin.

He follows her as far as he can, keeping his silence. Only his musket makes sound, constantly tapping against the pavement, an almost-steady count of tap-tap-tap.

A tall wide building draws up, and Sharpe squints at it. He parts his lips to ask Mia what on earth is it and why there seems to be something around the windows that looked like glass and how rich are these people- when his head spins, black spots appears in his eyes, and Sharpe tips over.

The wood of his musket butt scrapes hard against the floor as he falls over. ]

[feyted]

( Mia has a fraction of a second to react. Richard outweighs her, he's a bloody mess in every literal and probably not so literal meaning, and he doesn't need a concussion on top of the rest.

Mia pulls on him enough to redirect his fall onto her as she loses her balance and goes down as well, breath rushing out of her on the weight of them both after impact.

She's stunned for a while, blinking in the rain that slowly turns from misting into drizzle. )

A little help out here!

( Comes out first as a croak, then with repetition, loud enough to catch attention from people inside the clinic itself. )

[healplz]

[ Word reaches Ashraf very quickly, and just as quickly he appears outside the clinic, one hand lifted to keep his vision clear through the increasing rain. He glances over the pair quickly, and even as he strides forward he's already outstretching one softly glowing green hand.

The cooling light of healing magic encompasses Sharpe, mending together broken flesh and drying extraneous blood. But of course just one heal won't do, and he wouldn't think of stopping there. He casts it again and again as he comes to a crouch next to them, grim and focused.

Sharpe's back is well on its way to being intact again when he finally spares a glance for Mia. ]

Are you alright, ma'am?

[feyted]

( She's still mystified by the green glow, but she says nothing, eyes falling back to Sharpe and watching the impossible happen.

Astounding, this collision of worlds.

Ashraf's question takes a moment to penetrate. Her head comes up, and she offers his a brief smile. )

I'm fine. Had the wind knocked out of me, that's all.

[incorrupt]

[ Sharpe twitches a slightly. There's an odd warmth spreading throughout his body, and when his eyes open all he sees is a strange green light and a man standing in front of him. Immediately, he lunges forward, throwing the stranger down with his entire weight-

Wait a damned minute. His back doesn't hurt anymore. Sharpe blinks, freezing completely. Dark skin... possibly an Indian. Sharpe looks from Ashraf, to Mia, then back to Ashraf again. ][ He sounds curious instead of demanding, and he's already leaning backwards, craning his neck to try to look at his back. ]

The hell was that light?