nysalogs | [ ACTIVE / SEMI-OPEN ]

Entry tags:

[ ACTIVE / SEMI-OPEN ]

Who: John Sheppard & various (& maybe you!)
What: Various Stages On The Grief Arc: An illustration of John Sheppard being a disaster
When: Mid to Late November & Early December maybe
Where: Olympia & Dranbu
Warning(s): Some arm injury gore in one thread!

1. OLYMPIA -- Mid November
John is pretty sure he looks a mess to anyone who knows him, but that's precisely why he's avoiding most people who know him.

He's called out of work to give himself a recovery buffer and is taking a walk with Seren, who is completely oblivious to his problems. Seren is still a puppy, and her excitement for everything in their surroundings and for him to play with her is a good distraction -- even if he wishes she understand the word 'chill' on occasion.

The little German Shepherd is starting to grow up quickly, though. She's smart, smart enough John suspects to know exactly when she's just ignoring John's instructions. Old enough to know better, young enough not to care. Off the leash, she's skipping ahead of him with her nose to the ground -- sniffing for traces of other dogs who might have come this way. At this time of day there aren't too many, mostly people, and although she mostly just runs up and down finding things then bringing them to John (or John to them) occasionally she gets curious and bounces toward another human. Either because they smell interesting or have something with them that smells interesting.

Seren shoots toward the new person and bounces curiously while John jogs to catch up, jacket loose and unzipped over his plaid shirt and jeans.

"Hey!" he prompts sharply, and the puppy stops and looks over at him. "We talked about this, manners!"

Apparently bouncing at people is not a good display of puppy manners.

2. DRANBU -- Late November/Early December (specify before or after people change back!)
After having pretty much been holed up in Olympia drowning his sorrows for most of the month, once he finally makes it out to Josa Forest (initially to help Ianto, but then staying to sate his curiosity about what's going on) John realises he does... feel better. He probably should have come out sooner to give himself something to do, instead of just skulking around avoiding everything, but hindsight is 20/20 and all that. At the time he hadn't felt like he wanted to do anything.

Once he's there, though, actually exploring Josa Forest again after his initial trip out with Phoenix helps take his mind off things. The tree villages are interesting, and John picks through them as much to satisfy his own curiosity as to give him a reason to be --

To be away from things that he's absolutely not avoiding but also, is avoiding.

The markets of Dranbu, he notices, are very animal-focused. So after a long moment picking through things he catches the attention of someone and hesitantly asked:

"Do you have anything for dogs...?"

They point him further a long and John lofts an eyebrow curiously, turning and padding in the direction he's been pointed -- bumping into someone near a different stand along the way and setting his good hand on them apologetically to steady them. The marketplace is busy and also, not designed with space in mind. He supposes that's what comes of not normally having this many visitors.

"Sorry," he says with a wince, and bends to try and pick up whatever it is he made them drop. "Here, let me --"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ianto's smile turns into something of a wince, shaking his head in response to the suggestion.

"Fresh out, I'm afraid," he replies, softly. He supposes that he could always go out and see what they might have in the city later on, but it wouldn't help John now anyway.

Slipping his gloves on, Ianto reaches out to lay his hand on John's wrist again and offers him a reassuring smile when the discomfort that John is obviously feeling doesn't travel through the contact a second time. He brushes his thumb over the back of John's hand for a moment, before offering, "I can go out and see if I can find anything quickly out there, if you promise to sit tight and wait for me?"

And not try and take care of it himself while he's gone.

If he promises to sit tight and wait?

John doesn't exactly know where he'd even go, at this point. He hasn't been in Dranbu until this moment, he has no idea where anything is and his arm has a probable hairline fracture.

Maybe he could even start rinsing it while Ianto is gone? Get anything stuck in the wounds out and through some of the worse pain while he isn't there.

"I got nowhere to go," he replies, and tries to flick a smile but it comes out tight.

Ianto regards the other man's expression carefully. Including that smile that John's giving him. He may not be able to feel John's emotions anymore but he can read his expression and the discomfort there. He tries to imagine attempting to clean out that wound again without giving the other man at least something to take the edge off of it. Maybe he should...

He lets out a soft sigh. He doesn't like the idea of stopping when they've only barely begun, stopping when they've already waited this long to clean it out as it is. But he doesn't like to see John so uncomfortable either, if he can offer him another option.

"Will you be all right for a little while longer, then?" he asks, sitting back on his heels, regarding the other man cautiously for a moment longer before zipping up his bag and stuffing his gloves into his jacket pocket. "I'll be as quick as I can. Our host is bound to have some suggestions that will narrow down my search. And I'm sure you'll feel better once I've brought something back."

"Yeah," John assures him. "Pretty sure I'm safe here, and the quicker I take something the quicker it starts working. Don't think advil is gonna cut it."

He winces slightly, taking a hesitant breath as he considers if... the people of Dranbu would understand the different side effects painkillers have. They live in a forest. Maybe, maybe... not?

"If possible," John begins warily, "something anti-inflammatory that won't be a bleed risk but I'll take what I can get."

Anything that dulls the pain at least a little is an improvement, and he'll cope if he needs to.

"Right," Ianto says, pushing himself up to stand and awkwardly dusting his hands off on his jeans. Trying not to think too hard about bleed risks or yes. Going back to the original concept of gushing that John had implanted in his head.

"Well, I'll. See what I can wrestle out of them, shall I?" he offers, flicking John the quirk of a smile that he doesn't quite feel. He's worried, and he's doing a terrible job of hiding it.

"I'll be back as quick as I can," he promises, and swinging his bag back onto his bag, steps out the door to see what he can find.

Considering the general level of technology available in Dranbu, Ianto's not surprised that they have no idea what the words 'anti-inflammatory' are all about. Reducing pain and swelling on the other hand is more speaking their language. Especially when he informs them that his friend has suffered a nasty bite and might have further injuries they can't see. The apothecaries of Dranbu are all too keen to offer Ianto any number of remedies, ranging from the simple to the more complex and extreme (and expensive, for that matter).

As Ianto finally makes his way back to the room itself, he supposes he should have asked John about his opinion on alternative Nysan medicine. Then again, he supposes given the choice between it or nothing at all, John's bound to be up for something he's brought back with him. Even if it's just the bag of ice he's collected from their host's kitchen on the way back in.

He knocks gently on the door to announce his return before slowly opening it and stepping back inside. "John...?"

John hasn't, at a glance, physically moved from where he was sat before -- but a few things have changed. Firstly, he seems to have turned slightly and has a bowl sat in his lap with him. Secondly, the bowl has water tinted red and John has started rinsing his arm a little. Now that he's rinsing it, in a slightly awkward way that speaks of a weak attempt to not be lifting his arm too much, it's easier to see some of the damage. There's a section of skin that looks like it's been skimmed back entirely leaving pink, raw flesh and the largest puncture wounds look deep and round enough that they might have been made by someone plunging a pencil into clay.

John looks up toward the door, studies Ianto for a long moment then drops his eyes to his arm again. He isn't finished, by any means, because he's proceeding very slowly.

"Hey," he answers a little roughly. "Any luck?"

Ianto shuts the door behind himself as he steps into the door, shucking his bag off his shoulder as he does and doing his best not to stare at the other man's arm. He'll see it up close and personal soon enough.

"Yeah," he replies, moving closer to kneel where he'd done before and setting the bag down in front of him, starting to dig through it once he's done so. "I found a few things I thought you might be able to try out, if you're interested. They told me you were safe to mix and match, for the most part. Within reason." He holds up the little extra sack he'd been carrying. "And some ice, of course. For once we're done." He probably could have left that to fetch later, but it should keep for the most part and he can just refresh it if it doesn't.

Plucking out a little vial, he holds it up to the light, squinting for a moment before displaying it to John himself. "Here. From what they told me about this, it sounds like it should do the trick. Though you might want to start out light, in case it hits you hard to start."

He glances up at John's arm, pressing his lips tightly together as he does, before continuing on to begin, "How's..." He trails off again before even finishing the question. Does he really even need to ask? He's got a feeling he knows just by looking.

"Be better if I couldn't feel it. What's the dosage on this stuff? Don't suppose they gave any side-effects?"

He sets the cloth aside and reaches for the vial with his good hand to study. It's one thing if it makes him feel a little fuzzy, but if it's going to make him hallucinate then he wants some warning. That, and if there's any kind of lethal dose he'd prefer... you know, not to do that. Normally if things come in vials instead of bottles that's a sign that they're... strong, after all.

Which -- strong sounds good right now, but there's a line. Knowing who he is and where he is tends to be something John prefers.

Ianto shakes his head, pushing himself up to stand and, after a moment, reluctantly pulling his gloves out of his pockets to slip back on again.

"Not specifically, no," he admits. "Just that it's quite strong and that it's sure to make you feel better, but that I'm not to let you take too much of it or to let you take it for too many days in a row."

He reaches back out to take the vial back from the other man, swirling the liquid in the glass before pulling out the stopper, making something of a face at the noxious smell that wafts from the vial once he does. "God only knows what it's actually made of, but as long as it helps..." He glances up at the other man questioningly. "I made sure they told me how to use it," he reassures, in case John's worried he's about to accidentally poison him.

How to use it.

John eyes the vial hesitantly, then eyes Ianto.

"So do we mix it with something or should I just be taking a sip straight?"

How do you use it? John has the feeling that Ianto wants to do whatever it is needs to be done for him, but he's not especially keen on being fed something by hand. That's a little too much for his pride, even with an injured arm. If it's in drops maybe he can do that himself if he... holds the vial steady?

Edited (same icon twice in a row!) 2018-12-11 14:10 (UTC)

It takes Ianto a moment to understand that that's the answer to his question. Yes, John will try it. No, he will not take it from him. Not so directly as he was offering, at least.

He tries not to be offended by it. He shouldn't be. It's not John's fault. None of this is.

"Ah," he says, smoothly, before pushing himself up to stand again. "It's probably. Better if you didn't drink it straight from the bottle. I'll get you, ehm." He re-caps the vial for a moment so that he can dig around in his bag for a moment, before producing a smaller satchel, from which he produces a small metal spoon. Yes, he really has brought a set of his own silverware with him on this journey.

"Here," he says, moving back to sit beside him on the bed. "They said it should be taken by mouth, but. A spoon should do just as well, yeah?" He measures out the necessary amount of drops of the stuff into the spoon before carefully turning it to pass to John. Flicking him a carefully hesitant smile as he asks, "Do I need to start singing about sugar now too? I'm not above pulling out all the tricks I have, if it helps."

Singing about sugar.

John forces a weak smile and reaches out with his good hand to take the spoon.

"Thanks," he says, and carefully takes it and swallows the few drops quickly. It doesn't exactly taste pleasant, but if it makes his arm stop working he'd drink three times as much. Holding out the spoon back to Ianto he lets out a slow breath. "Probably take a few minutes to kick in, but we can go through supplies. I might need a makeshift splint and sling for this, if we have something we can use, and you might need something to help pick bits of fibre and stuff out of my cuts."

Something finer and more precise than fingers.

Ianto takes the spoon back from him and resists the urge to reach out and run his hand through his hair like he wants. To offer a comforting gesture that he’s not sure whether the other man would welcome at the moment or not.

A splint and a sling. Something for picking fibers out of the wound. Right. Taking a deep breath, he pushes himself up to start digging through his bag again.

“I’ve got —“ He holds up a pair of tweezers he’d had stashed in the same little bag with the silverware. “This should do the job. And I’m sure we can figure out something for a splint and sling too,” he adds, setting the tweezers aside and digging through his bag. Though it’s just as well he didn’t bring any of his ties along, he thinks privately to himself.

“How stable are you looking for this to be?” he asks aloud.

"As stable as we can get, considering it's a little patched together. Just enough to let it rest."

To stop him bumping it or trying to use it, as much as possible. He presses his lips together unhappily, eyeing the tweezers and then his arm.

"Did they say if I can mix that painkiller with alcohol?"

Asking for a friend, of course.

Ianto sits back to look up at the other man, biting his lip slightly as he runs the question over in his head. Technically they hadn't said anything about it at all, but he isn't certain whether that should mean that it's safe to assume anything one way or the other.

"Well," he hedges, slightly. "So long as you're not planning on drinking to excess...? If they weren't warning me against it then it should probably be fine."

Probably. Glancing back down at his bag he digs into it a little more before glancing around the room itself. John's the medic, not him. "What about... A branch?" Ianto offers, looking back to the other man uncertainly. They are in a village made from a giant tree, after all. Maybe it could work?

"Yeah, a straight stick would work."

Or, you know, as straight as they can manage when it's grown on a tree. John's not a hundred percent sure that 'if they didn't warn me against it, then it's probably fine' is strictly the truth for some all natural homemade painkiller being mixed with alcohol -- but he's going to leave that thought alone for now. Ringing out the cloth again carefully he begins he try and clean another patch of dried blood on his arm, and winces right away. Painkillers haven't kicked in yet, but maybe in another few minutes...

Ianto glances around before selecting what he hopes is the straightest branch available, before reaching out and breaking it off at the end. Sorry, tree. He breaks off the other end as well, so there aren’t any leaves to have to contend with either before he glances back over at John again.

And winces as he watches him trying to wash out the wound again. Obviously he’s still able to feel it pretty well. Hell, Ianto can practically feel it just looking at it.

“You can have more if that’s too light,” he says, frowning at the other man as he crosses back over to him and sets his stick down by his pack before resting a (gloved) hand tentatively on the other man’s knee. “It’s supposed to work fairly fast, but that’s hardly a comfort it it hasn’t started working now, is it?”

Edited (ointo wtf.....) 2018-12-13 12:19 (UTC)

John hesitantly eyes Ianto's hand on his knee, then slides his focus back to his arm again.

"Give it a little longer," he says, "quick for painkillers can still be ten minutes."

But Ianto can still carry on cleaning, if he wants. John offers the cloth to him after a moment, frowning slightly.

"Here," he says, "once it's clean you can put some stuff on it."

You know, generally to encourage healing and lack of infection. Stuff.

He glances down at the cloth held out to him, before tentatively taking it from him. John is offering, after all. He wouldn't be offering if he didn't want Ianto to take up the attempt himself once more.

"I got something for that," Ianto replies, shifting to sit forward and join the other man on the bed. "For once it's clean," he adds, after a moment, before reaching for the bowl and setting it aside on the other side of himself. Dipping the cloth in it again to freshen it again.

"Tell me if any of this is too much," he asks softly, before reaching forward to start to clean away some of the dried blood himself. His touch is gentle, but it can only be so much so, given the state of the other man's arm.

If any of it is too much.

All of it is too much, John thinks. Being here is too much. Knowing why he's here is too much. Ianto's touch is too much. The raw, exposed flesh of his arm is too much. The raw, exposed emotional nerve of how recently he reduced himself to dropping to his knees and begging Ianto is too much.

He sets his jaw and flits his eyes away, turning a little so he cant read Ianto's expression as easily out of the corner of his eye.

"Don't worry about it," he says, because it needs doing and John can cope -- although his whole body is projecting tension anyway. It clearly hurts still.

Don't worry about it, John says, but Ianto doesn't know if he could stop worrying even if he wanted to. Worrying about the look on John's face, worrying about the state of John's arm, worrying about -- the state of things between them, if he's being completely honest with himself. He realizes that one moment between them in the forest isn't going to solve everything, but he hopes that it was a start, and not just. A moment of weakness on both their parts. He would give anything for it to be a start towards making amends, at any rate.

Dipping the cloth back in the bowl of water as he applies it to John's arm, he's trying to be as gentle as he can, but it hurts just to look at the wound, never mind the fact that he's touching it. He's saving the worst of it for when he knows the drugs are working, but he'd like to hope that they do soon. For both their sakes.

He's quiet for a long few moments as he works, but in the end the silence gets to him. It's uncomfortable, where once a silence between them would have been anything but.

"I'm sorry," he says, quietly. "This my fault."

"Don't," John says softly. "I didn't have to come, I came because I wanted to."

So it isn't Ianto's fault. Ianto didn't deliberately get himself stuck. He didn't order a wolf to bite him. He hadn't maliciously set all this up. So it isn't, in his opinion, Ianto's fault.

"Maybe if I'd been quicker it wouldn't have got me, yeah? Or maybe if I hadn't tried to stun it while it was attached to me it wouldn't have bit me so hard. So maybe it's all my fault."

So there, Ianto. You can't claim it all for yourself.

"But I could have shot them," Ianto points out. Focusing his attention on John's arm in front of him so that he doesn't have to look the other man in the eye, as he continues. That is provided John will even look at him in the first. "I could have, but I was afraid that, with all this animal business going on, they might not have been wolves after all."

He hesitates, wringing out the cloth again before forcing himself to continue, "I could have tried phoning someone closer. Or I could have kept calling out for help. I'm sure someone else would have come, in the end." Gently working the cloth around the puncture wounds, he points out, "I could have called someone else, but I wanted you."

So you see, John. He rather thinks that he is to blame for at least most of this.

I could have called someone else, but I wanted you.

The meaning in that isn't exactly subtle. Not just I wanted you to rescue me, but I wanted you.

John skims his eyes over the wound on his arm as Ianto cleans it, turning over possible answers to that.

"It'll heal," he says finally, "it's not like it's permanent damage. I've had worse."

So, it's fine. Right?

He's had worse. Of course he has. He was burnt to death by a dragon. This, at least, Ianto knows won't kill him. That doesn't mean he he doesn't feel any better about it.

But John is right, he's forced to admit. It will heal. He should focus on seeing that it does so without getting infected, rather than on his responsibility in its acquisition. He just can't help but blame himself nonetheless.

"Is it feeling any better yet?" Ianto asks, taking John's lead in changing the subject. "You're allowed to want another dose. That wolf did try to do its best to tear your arm off. Whether you've had worse before or not, I'd rather -- I'd rather you were comfortable."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject