[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=4682b4]Ash Holloway[/color][/b][/i][/h1][img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/c6f0f86d13839f8542e4b754c251da73/tumblr_ojog8uNf9k1qdhps7o1_r1_500.gif[/img][/center][hr][center][color=steelblue][b]Location:[/b][/color] Headland: House (F3)
[color=4682b4][b]Skills:[/b][/color] EMT Training, Leadership [/center][hr][hr]

	Okay, this was probably partially his fault. Maybe it wasn't, but that's what Ash told himself after Amelia had taken a few hasty steps away from him after jamming a finger into his open bullet wound, [i]again[/i]. The Captain bit back a stream of profanity, and was even largely successful in his endeavor to do so. Some did manage to slip out at the end, though, and despite his best efforts to not sound like an angry Viking lady he once knew, the writhing and f-bombage might have made her proud. He did note with some relief that little Jamie was out of the room. Whether the baby could understand him or not, he would have felt bad about adding unwanted sounds to his newly forming vocabulary. 

	But as it was now, Amelia had traded off responsibility of his medical care to Riley, which might have given him some concern were it not for the fact that damage (let's face it) had already been done. Instead of adding to his own personal chunk of aggravation on the matter of his gaping, bleeding hole which still contained a highly uncomfortable hunk of foreign metal, Ash took a deep, steadying breath and dug into his repertoire of trained skills, both from his military experience and his more recent immersion with Newnan's Medical powerhouse, Victor Bonheur. He was once an officer and now, thanks to the Doctor, he was a passable field medic. The knowledge that he passed along was worth more than anything that could be scavenged, captured, or bartered for anymore. One might say that he owed it to the man to continue passing it along. 

	[color=4682b4]"Alright, Superstar. One step at a time, you've seen this done before. I'll talk you through for as long as I'm conscious, okay? [i]You have got this[/i]."[/color] His voice was strained but low, even, and calm. The intent was to bolster confidence and provide clear instruction as this otherwise untrained survivor "learned on the job", as it were. [color=4682b4]"Basic stuff. Now, sterilize, pick that tool up, and let's begin."[/color] In hindsight, this was patience that he should have showed with Amelia, despite his clear and painful reasons for blowing his top earlier. 




[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=dc143c]Thalia Carmichael[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/45f8049e-1846-4cc8-9eee-8e4039fdcf20.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=crimson]Location:[/color][/b] Quincy (in house, G6 -> D7)
[b][color=dc143c]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	Sleep was not entirely Thalia's friend. It came, it left, it came again. While she had genuinely thought that she would be dead to the world for a long, long time, apparently that was left for people who were on veritable buttloads of IV drip medication. When she was shot, prior to the whole Zed Uprising thing anyway, she was more or less down for the count following surgery. But again, fully functioning hospital with fully functioning anesthesia. And she didn't have the head for pharmaceuticals that others might. Lack of experience. She did manage to have some creepy dreams, likely fueled by trauma and opiates, plus her own nonstandard upbringing. But now, more mundane concerns took her as she lay upon the floor, covered by a blanket and not much else, staring into an almost dead fire in the hearth. 

	Thalia made damn sure to put absolutely zero weight on her prematurely terminating arm while sitting up, though it was an endeavor that took a lot longer than it should have. Something about having a different center of balance seemed like a detail, until you tried to actually make your body perform tasks like it used to. She needed more time. Lots more. And eventually, something to take the place of her arm. That dream of hers gave her one hell of an idea, though it would be immensely more difficult to do so now than it would have been a few years ago. Good idea, but a pipe dream [i]now[/i]. Unrealistic. She needed to think to what she could do more immediately. Mostly, that would be take it easy and recover. But just as soon as she could contribute to the group better, she was going to hit it fast and hard. She was no one's victim, not even of her own self-pity. 

	Right now, she could put a little more fuel on the fire. It was something. Reaching out with her left hand (henceforth known as [i]her only hand[/i]), Thalia set a couple of decent pieces onto the last of the flames rising from glowing, orange embers. She waited for a bit to ensure that they were catching, but when the first signs of that very thing revealed themselves, Thalia gave the room a quick glance. Thana was still gone. Alexander seemed to have watch, Manny was off in dreamland, and Beatrice was curled in a ball against the bar with her crossbow at her side. Regarding the woman, Thalia noted that she really couldn't be comfortable in the least like that. Not that she was doing any better at all, her swollen residual limb beginning to really throb now that the meds were clearing out of her system. She considered taking the other pill in her watch pocket. It was what she had it for, really. [color=dc143c][i]"Not yet."[/i][/color] she told herself at a bare whisper. Those things were valuable, and she should really only use them if she couldn't tolerate the pain anymore. It sucked, no doubt, but it wasn't getting any worse right then. 

	Beatrice looked uncomfortable. Thalia kind of owed her, too. She kept up her droll sarcasm and dark sense of humor, she assumed for the purposes of keeping her grounded while a massive but necessary trauma had been done to her. Bea was a good friend to her, in her own, standoffish way. Even after a year. And again, the woman didn't look comfortable at all. It was a painfully slow process to accomplish, but Thalia began to move, half sliding and half crawling across the floor with her blanket alternating between being in her teeth and in her only hand. She didn't try to stand at this point. Even if she could, the sudden change in blood pressure might cause her to black out and clip her head on something harder than her skull. Bad tactic. Like the tale of the Tortoise and the Hare, slow and steady was going to win this for her. It took a couple of minutes, but Thalia finally was able to come up along Beatrice's side opposite of her weapon. The position allowed for her to keep her stump away from incidental harm as a bonus. From there, she stretched her good arm out, draping half of her blanket across Bea's curled form as she leaned herself against the bar alongside her friend. [color=dc143c]"It's okay, we're safe. Get some rest."[/color] Thalia whispered, just in case the movement caused her to stir. 

	The effort itself was far more draining upon Thalia than it should have been. At least she was tired enough to get more sleep now, and she could feel herself drifting back off, her head nodding forward and her left side pressed against the warmer form of her fellow survivor. 




[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=deb887]Hank Wright[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/25dc70d0-947b-4919-85bb-ee43b1508a14.gif[/img][hr][b][color=burlywood]Location:[/color][/b] Building Interior (D4)
[b][color=deb887]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	The effort of maintaining his stance as a human stepladder was beginning to take a toll on Hank. There was the curse of his marching years; he could still do almost everything he could as a younger man but the duration and recovery times were a bitch. But this was his one job, and damnit, he was going to do it for as long as was needed. Unless Erica decided to take her own sweet frigging time, then she was on her own. [color=deb887]"Hey, tell me ya got some good news there, Apocalypse Barbie. Uh huh, anything will do. Bonus if you can find some National Geographic magazines or anything about cars. Aw hell, what am I saying? As long as we're just, ah, throwing around fake bonus points, I'll give you a shiny bucketful of them if you can magic me up a steak and some homestyle fries. Eh? Bucketful? Ehhh..."[/color] His voice trailed off, thinking to what food he actually had access to and considering whether it was even worth it to break into it that evening. He wasn't starving yet, and packaged edibles were in shorter supply these days.  

	When he heard that their new traveling companion, Sportacus, was once a teacher, Hank gave an appreciative nod in his direction. Not that he appreciated the man on a personal level. He might, but that wasn't quite the point of the head nod. More to that point, [color=deb887]"World needs teachers. Even if they dress like extras from Ben Hur, world needs teachers still. Tell me something, though - state job? Because I've got to say, I'm [i]really goddamn glad[/i] I sunk so much of my paycheck into the state retirement program."[/color] Sarcasm flowed from him like a native language. [color=deb887]"You think they'll let us cash out early? I've had my eye on this condo and I'm afraid it won't be on the market when I'm 65."[/color]