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sworntoalostgod.livejournal.com) wrote in
shatterverse2008-04-08 01:06 pm
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[OOS: Oliver gets cranky when he’s tired.]
Oliver has been doing a lot of walking. He's been talking to a lot of neighbours, and during those conversations he mentioned his abilities. Not everybody believed him, and not everybody wanted to take him up on his offer...but a few did. He's been patrolling their fields to increase their fertility. The land here is good - like a warm cup of tea on a cold day, like fine wine after a heavy meal.
He's patrolling around the Cooper house right now, for a much different reason. One step methodically in front of the other. He whispers words underneath his breath, gaze distant.
Once he finishes, he goes over to the earth bunker to set up some more Wards. Judging from his leisurely pace (which is not entirely due to the limp in his right leg), he could be interrupted.
Oliver has been doing a lot of walking. He's been talking to a lot of neighbours, and during those conversations he mentioned his abilities. Not everybody believed him, and not everybody wanted to take him up on his offer...but a few did. He's been patrolling their fields to increase their fertility. The land here is good - like a warm cup of tea on a cold day, like fine wine after a heavy meal.
He's patrolling around the Cooper house right now, for a much different reason. One step methodically in front of the other. He whispers words underneath his breath, gaze distant.
Once he finishes, he goes over to the earth bunker to set up some more Wards. Judging from his leisurely pace (which is not entirely due to the limp in his right leg), he could be interrupted.
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Instead he retires away and crouches to rest and wait, watching the door.
Perhaps that warning will be taken
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A man in a lot of pain who's... oh shit.
Hey, Oliver, have a T-shirt to use as a tourniquet. Mel's wearing a chest wrap underneath, it's OK.
"What the hell?"
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Red paints his bright white coat, the vest underneath, his tie. He stares at Mel, for a moment without recognition as he takes the T-shirt and ties it onto his stump.
"There's a man out there. With swords and pistols," he manages, gaze going to the door, his bloody left hand out.
Nevermind that he's never been able to summon Godflame with his left hand. He has to do something.
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Mel has a hand on his left shoulder, strong enough with just that to hold him back if she needs to.
Her other hand has a stake ready, and she's planning how to throw that and draw her axe before the guns are fired.
"What happened?"
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"He claimed himself a demon's friend. I'd tried to convince him--" Oliver doesn't feel like explaining the whole argument, "but I failed. He threatened. I threatened. I defended myself when he attacked."
His gaze goes to his stump as he considers how poorly he defended himself.
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Yeah, Mel's met him. But that doesn't fit. So she's frowning thoughtfully, still gripping the stake.
"He's friends with Sokka. Knows the girls."
He never struck her as the hand-chopping-off type.
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Oliver is too used to being around people who know him as trustworthy, and too much in pain, to bother to explain or justify further.
He jams his stump up against his chest - any little bit of pressure helps - breathing harshly.
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But she's biting her lip, thoughtfully.
"This is over a friend of his?"
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"I don't know," she says, quiet and desperate herself. "No one's told me they can."
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Godsworn die blazing, not shivering. "If I can-- cauterize--" he murmurs, focusing on his left (only) hand. His fingers flex, crook into claws, nails biting into his palms.
Oliver likely explained Godflame to Mel before, but what should be obvious even to someone who doesn't know what to look for is that nothing's happening.
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And it's not like the girls can exactly cauterise.
"Sokka's tools," she says. "He'll have a blowtorch or something..."
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"Where?"
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"Stay."
An agonisingly long minute later, she's racing back with Sokka's toolbox.
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Then he looks up, lips twitching in a smile that's more like a grimace. He'll only unwrap the T-shirt when she tells him to.
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Just try to ignore the panicked look.
"OK, let's... want me to knock you out?"
It'll probably help the pain.
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His voice is raspy, but striving for calm. "Cool water helps burns heal. Honey, too, for light ones - maybe for deeper. I'll need," he glances down at the bed he's on, "to lie here for some time...ah, clean dressing. I'll-- I'll use the sheet."
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Honestly, Mel would rather have him still then risk anything more serious. But she nods, fires up the torch -
- and holds her breath against the resultant smell.
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And then the scream bursts from his throat. He flops down onto his side on the bed, curling protectively around his now blackened stump. The next few screams are trapped between closed lips as he grinds his teeth together. They subside to heavy breathing mixed with whimpers, the occasional muttered "Father," and "Oh, fuck," thrown in.
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After tossing down a few mouthfuls, he hands it back to her with a grateful look.
"He still-- out?" he whispers after a while.
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She does, though. Approaching the door with a stake in her hand, she opens the door boldly, though not enough to expose Oliver.
"No."
That bastard - though Mel bites back the thought, reminding herself she doesn't know.
"You're going to tell me everything - but not today."
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The next little while is filled with him occasionally remembering to do something useful like asking Mel for a knife to cut strips of bedding for his stump (a few hours later he'll remember the first aid kit he put into the van earlier this morning) or asking for cool water, but mostly lying down and being in pain.
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So she stays there, at least until he can sleep.
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Oliver manages to mutter, "Thank you," a few times before he sleeps, though he doesn't always look at Mel when he says it. Not that he's not incredibly grateful to her, but he figures God needs some praise too.