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 Posted: Fri May 19, 2017 8:28 pm
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Polair knew she shouldn't even visit Chittentown, she shouldn't be welcomed to the place she knew most of her friends due to the lies she had been saying about her well-being. No, she wasn't ok. Claud was starting to suspect her condition as well, it was bad. Everything was just snowballing and tumbling down to her. Surely he;d come to look for her-- hunt for her. The highblood felt so drained, and overwhelmed by the thought of lying, of being unable to see... Of being a total failure.
So there the blind highblood wandered as if it was some kind of punishment. She had put her bracelets inside her bag, so she could make this harder on herself. "I deserve this." Polair muttered and wandered until she started to feel her legs giving out. The seadweller panted, remembering she didn't have water on her, again, self-punishment, so the feeling of dehydration was taking a heavy toll on her. She coughed as her body tried its best to regain composure but... it was nearly impossible. She took a few steps forward until she tripped on some stones, scraping her knees in the process.
She fell face first in the sand. Polair could truly be described as a sandy miserable mess right now. Shifting her body, so she could lay on her back, she wiped off some of the sand off her face and soon after clutched on her knee as a breeze played about with the wound. The sting ensured that she was surely bleeding a bit. But again, she deserved this for being terrible. She was sweating too much, heard ringing in the ears, and felt as if the ground she was laying on was spinning. She was slowly losing conciousness as she went over and over her biggest mistake-- entering the space race.
Maybe this was it for her. Not that she cared right now.
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Posted: Sun May 21, 2017 12:18 am
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Nictor hurried out of the local Green Thumb, clutching his gardening supplies close and hoping beyond hope no one pinned the mess in the third isle on him. It was a nice independently owned place run by an enthusiastic, if somewhat low on the scale, greenblood. After having Nictor as a customer for a few sweeps now though, the haggard and irritated expression usually greeted the yellowblood and followed him out the door when he left. Nictor was better than he was as a kid, he swears! He didn't stumble as much or trip on his own two feet, but that didn't stop him from swinging wildly when surprised and knocking over artful and delicate planting displays that cost an egregious amount of beetles.
Or from looking away from where he was walking and accidentally kicking a watering can into the hind end of a tourist blueblood and making them drop their basket full of crystal ornaments.
Or from the seed display getting-
Okay, bottom line here was that Nictor was a little infamous at local places of business, a number of them refused to serve him to to previous incidents as mentioned and word gets around. Nictor hadn't had anything severe occur at Green Thumb yet and he hoped so badly it stayed that way. The owner had certainly looked tempted to tell him off when he'd come in, but after eyeing the bandages wrapped all over the yellowblood's face and withdrawn jumpiness, they'd let Nictor go without comment.
So, with his haul of fertilizer, a couple of books, a silly buzzbeast ornament, and other assorted gardening related items, Nictor made a beeline out of the store, trying to avoid the more traveled roads as he went.
He didn't make a habit these days to congratulate himself for braving the town, but given the new state of affairs after his fight with Toothy, he'd been having a lot of bad days recently. This was the first 'okay' day he'd had in a while and managing to convince himself to go out and restock while the feeling lasted he thought was a success. Bee had been worried and protective since the incident, but supported Nictor's brave inclinations for today.
The lull in foot traffic was a blessing, given that Nictor had never dealt well with crowds and currently he was on high alert against trolls again. Whenever it was quieter like this, Nictor could appreciate Chittentown better. It really did make for a beautiful scene. The inky shades of purple and blue that made up the night sky making a backdrop for sandy colored ridges and roads, lights glowing from the walls and windows. Nictor was nearing the fringes of the town proper, storefronts giving way to hive complexes and cozy homes dressed up to tempt tourists into buying a seasonal retreat. It wasn't the shortest way to his hive, but it did afford a rather nice view of the vast swathes of sand and how the city lights gave way to stars shyly peeking from above. Distracted as Nictor was, it really should have come to no surprise when he tripped.
The yelp was immediate and Nictor's hands flew up to catch himself because that was not a my foot caught on a slight ledge trip, that was a you have made a mistake and the obstruction is too big for a quick corrections, welcome to the ground now. Nictor huffed and whined when his palms made hard impact, grit digging into his hands and threatening to tear, but better his hands than his face, given how tender it still was. The scrunched expression he was wearing certainly wasn't helping the sting and ache of knitting skin and bone. Ow, ow, maybe relax that a bit.
Or maybe sit up. His forearms still ached from the beating they got, even with his arm guards over top.
Nictor tried to pull his legs under him to stand back up and ended up kicking something around, something a lot bigger and softer than the usual stray pieces of junk he managed to find and trip over.
Heaving himself off his arms and onto his butt was a bit of a trial, but he finally pulled his legs free and flopped over to see what had caused his fall.
Ah, a troll with fins.
Nictor blinked slowly at the body. There were several alarm bells going off right about now, but the blare was still muted because hold on. Hold up just a second.
A body. There was a body sprawled before him, gray skin smattered with dirt quickly turning to mud with all the sweat on her, black hair tousled and matted with grit, fins peeking out from the sides of her head and a smear of purple on her knee.
Purple. Fins. Purple smear that was very much probably not a few blackberries she had decided to crush onto her skin but blood. Fins that were very much probably not fake and attached to a headband hidden by hair but very real appendages.
Or they were not not fake. Purplebloods were pretty rare in Chittentown, especially seadwellers.
And yet, there was a body, on the ground, with fins and blood, completely abandoned.
Nictor's eyes bugged out, a choked keen forcing its way out of him because,
well, because of a couple of reasons.
First of all being there was a seadweller in front of him. On the ground. Laying there.
Second, he had tripped over said seadweller and likely kicked her a stupid amount of times with his stupid boots in his attempt to get his stupid legs under him.
There were certainly more reasons to be concerned, but Nictor couldn't really fathom the rest of them right now, he could barely handle the first two.
Where in the world did this seadweller come from? Why were they in Chittentown of all places, just laying on the ground? Far be it from him to question a highblood, but it was unusual and concerning to be sure. Did something happen? How badly did Nictor disrupt them by tripping on them and oh nooooo, no no no, he'd tripped over a seadweller. How much of an offense was it to not notice them? How upset would they be? How many times had he hit them with his feet in the past five minutes?
What if he knocked them over?
This was nothing short of a disaster. Nictor should never have come out to buy gardening supplies today. He should never have even thought leaving his hive was ever an acceptable option. The generally pleasant weather and sparsely inhabited streets had lulled him into a false sense of security alongside not feeling absolutely horrible today, but he should have known something would go wrong. He tried to ward away the negative thoughts, but honestly, looking in front of him, he should have expected something like this to happen.
Why was this even surprising anymore?
The question would have had more impact if his mental voicing of it hadn't been a panicked, half clicked, shrill.
As much as he immediately wanted out of this situation, it wasn't likely to happen. Fear and panic habitual to the presence of a highblood skittered at the edges of his consciousness, picking at him and bringing an unrelenting nervous edge to his thought. The horrid gut churning questions if he never really had friends at all were pushed to the back to make room for the far more pressing choking guilt. Did he hurt them at all? Did they need help? He couldn't just leave them, especially if he had played some part in their injury just now. Speaking of, they didn't look so good. Actually, they looked pretty terrible.
Beyond the haze of his own inner dialogue, Nictor took in the seadweller worriedly, biting his lip. They looked really bad actually. The limp form belied either exhaustion or unconsciousness (and what a mess the latter would be but also the former would mean they'd have to talk and both were equally bad) which didn't bode well to begin with. The sweat and grime made by kicked up dust coating their skin certainly spoke of stress of some kind. Highblood, lowblood, that much sweat on a troll was never a good sign.
"H-h-h-ah, I, s-s-sorry!" Nictor sputtered out, finally. "I-I'm s-s-sorr---y I t-tripped and I-I th----ink I h-hit you-" what was he doing admitting to it without prompting this was terrible, "-b-but a-a-are y-you o----kay? C-can I h-h-help?"
Oh wow, yep, there was his good old stutter, back in full force like it hadn't been in ages. It had been making itself known again quite blatantly after his face injury, and tripping over the highest class in society was probably doing him no favors. Maybe she'd be nice? It was rather optimistic of him, but he'd met a seadweller himself once and she'd been incredibly and unexpectedly nice and genuine. At least, in retrospect he thought so. Then again, trolls would fool you like that so he couldn't be sure. He mentally slapped himself as hard as he could for such a misguided and naive notion, but immediately felt bad for it. He can't trust trolls, especially highbloods, he knew that then and knows it better now, having been taken for a fool by Toothy. He still felt ill of thinking poorly of his one time stargazing partner. Nictor swallowed ahrd, trying to viciously stifle that train of thought while he could. He didn't want to think about that girl now, didn't want to trap himself in the emotional turmoil that had been haunting him the past few weeks when he had soemthing more pressing to attend to.
[quote="ImaginationsParadise]a natural disaster
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Posted: Sat Aug 12, 2017 9:08 pm
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Attempting to put away thoughts of the space tower and the maybe friend he'd had in a purpleblood that he really did not want to questions the motives of right now, Nictor assess his hands and found them scraped and dirty, but not bleeding. Also empty.
It took a few seconds but eventually he remembered that they should not be empty but should in fact be carrying the gardening supplies he'd left his hive to buy. Right. Yes. Garden supplies. That kind of thing kind of got sidelined when confronted with possible social or physical execution for slights to the highest social class and your own impending existential crisis over all of your friends being out to betray you.
Nictor flinched when purpleblood coughed, head snapping back around to stare at her rather than his recent purchase scattered over dusty ground.
No?
Nictor blinked owlishly as watched the purpleblood, tense and nervous and increasingly lost as no elaboration was forthcoming. No to what? Nictor scrambled to backtrack over his thoughts to find what he'd actually voiced to the seadweller, but he could find no definitive answer on what the no was about. It was either a no, I'm not okay or a no, don't help me. Probably. Maybe. Nictor wasn't feeling particularly confident and the seadweller was getting worse it looked like. And sounded like.
As the silence stretched, Nictor's genral anxious musings began to trail off or refocus on the 'wow, they seem like they're really bad' train. The space between them was growing oppressive as Nictor kept staring at the seadweller in expactation of an explanation or reprimand that wasn't coming. Instead it seemed like he was just watching as their condition got worse.
Oh.
Uh.
Nictor blinked forcefully, processing the reality of his current situation. He was on the outskirts of town on the way home, he tripped over a seadweller,
and said seadweller was possibly dying? Also the seadweller said no, but he'd not sure what was being refuted, so that wasn't too helpful. Huh.
After a deliberation over what the 'no' could possibly be referring to and thinking of at least twelve ways this could all go wrong for him when the seadweller awakens upset and furious or his being pinned for the death of a highblood out of negligence, Nictor frantically burst into motion at the violent but weakening heaving of the highblood's chest. At the end of the day, beyond the fear of other trolls, Nictor had no desire to leave them their, helpless and hurt, especially after he'd help contribute to the injuries.
Of course, after tentatively and flinchingly gathering the seadweller into his arms he realized he hadn't picked up his shopping bag and knelt back down and attempted to grab it without putting down his new precious cargo and nearly brained them and fell on his a** twice.
From there the trip to his hive was made as quickly as possible as Nictor had soon moved beyond fear over the seadweller's reprimands. Instead he was wholly focused on the breath he could feel rattling the body in his arms. The weight was awkward and limply hung against him. Nictor flinched each time he nearly tripped or dropped his new charge, wondering if the seadweller would wake up and go for his throat, gloating that it was all a ruse for some good old lowblood hunting.
As it so happens, Nictor miraculously managed to get to his hive in good health and the seadweller was, ah, still breathing? So there's that.
It was about the time that Nictor was standing in front of the seadweller that he'd just carried from the outskirts of town into his home and laid on his couch that he realized he had literally no idea what exactly he should do to help.
Huh.
Uh. Well. This was a dilemma. His guilt and concern were only just drowning out the clamor of fear and paranoia, but at least he wasn't freezing up so that was something. Now he was left with the question of how to help though.
The only vague idea he had was water. Seadwellers were, well, seadwellers.
The could breath underwater. Did they need water though? Maybe? Nictor really wasn't quite sure and he'd take the time to mentally bemoan his lack of knowledge if he wasn't sorely panicked by the state of his purpleblood charge.
With water as his only lead, Nictor scooped the seadweller back up despite the protests of his poor abused arms and headed for the kitchen.
Bright side, Nictor had gotten a cloth wet and laid it over the seadweller's forehead. And had another wet cloth laid over her each hand. And had a soaked blanket tossed over her lap. And snuggled a glass of water between her leg and the arm of the chair where it would be easy to access after he'd tried and to questionable success tried to help her unconscious form drink any. Downside, the armchair he'd dragged in was slowly getting soaked as water seeped from the cloth and blanket into it. Also water was sprayed everywhere across the floor and he needed a new facet installed because he wrenched the one he had out of place. Also he himself was soaked. Also his face ached and he may be bleeding again and a drawer seemed to have gotten caught on his pants and plasticware was everywhere.
That's never minding how he'd initially tried to set the seadweller upright in a chair and sh'd nearly fallen so he'd had the genius idea of trying to lay her across two chairs except he was a fool and didn't set her across them well enough and she'd wound up with her top half on the floor and her legs up on a seat and Nictor really hoped she didn't feel that bump when she woke up.
Exhausted and exasperated, Nictor was splayed on the floor where he'd tripped, water soaking into his loosened braid as he eyed his guest. The yellowblood nervously bit his lip, his hands feeling a bit shaky so he clenched them into fists. He wasn't sure if any of what he'd done had helped, but he hoped she would wake up soon because he really wasn't sure what else to try. Unbidden, inklings of that seadweller from the space tower teased him as he searched the his house guest for signs of waking. Something was bugging him, but he didn't want to think too deeply right now. Taking a moment to rest,
pushing down as much of his anxiety as he could, Nictor closed his eyes and breathed deep.
This was really not what he'd expected out of today.
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