HereComesTheSnow — Roleplayer Guild

He nodded.

"Right, patch her up."

Take care of the injured.

"On it."

With his questions aired by both himself and his teammates, Luke had found himself to once more be in the position he had taken before their minor breakdown.

Field Medic.

That's me.

And he had next to nothing to be one with. The supplies the Professor had mentioned would be useful...

But not worth the detour or splitting of the party to get, especially knowing what else was lurking about where they were. 

Sending any of them off was a critical blow to everyone's chances of survival, and they all knew that. Even with Jack's speed, there was no way he would be able to avoid a fight if Goodwitch herself as leery of poking whatever hornet's nest awaited.

If it can ward her off, I'm not sure if even all three of us would stand a chance in a flat-out battle.

All the more reason that it was out of the question. Seriously, who was he?

Tantalus?

...He'd spent enough time dwelling on that. Probably twice over now, if he had to be honest. The best he could do for her now was to make use of what he did have, however paltry it might be.

Hmm.

There wasn't a lot of time at this point. Nearly twenty scared people would be sniffed out in minutes if they stayed in one place. They would need to mobilize as soon as they possibly could, meaning that he needed to have Priscilla ready to go immediately after Jack came up with a plan, whatever it was.

Meaning it needed to be work he could do while the survivors briefed them on whatever useful bits of information or skill they had.

...No pressure!

With a deep, controlled breath outward, he set himself into motion.

First things first...

I sacrifice my jacket to summon my Hunter Reborn!

...He didn't think it worked like that, even in the show. But, at least it wasn't using Thunder as armor, right?

Not that this was the time or place to be joking like that. He had after all just finished describing in no uncertain terms that this was a tense situation.

However, removing that particular article of clothing wasn't just for show. Actually, it was probably just about the only thing he could do for Priscilla given the circumstances.

...No, not like that. He had a shirt on under it. Who wears just a hoodie outside of some sort of boy band?

What she needed was, as Jack had put it so perfectly, was to be patched up. That meant she needed bandages, and bandages he needed meant cloth.

Or, as it happened, spare clothing.

Now then, to get this into a little more of a helpful form.

Trying to drill cloth means either tearing it up uselessly, or a stuck drill.
...Or both. Can't use that.

Putting his fist down, his eyes caught the next-most prominent bit of metal in his field of view.

"Hey, Cian!" he said, catching the diminutive gunslinger's eye. "I'm gonna need to borrow your bayonet for a sec."

After a moment's consideration, she nodded and stood it on it's stock. "Sure you can Luke just be careful"

"Of course, of course. Just cutting something real quick." he reassured her, before going to work at tearing his own clothing to ribbons. A phrase he never quite believed he'd enact.

Long was key here. He needed these pieces to be long enough to wrap up wounds, possibly multiple times, and tie them off at the end.

...Bandage, though. Not torniquet.

Torniquets had once been described to him as "overkill in every sense of the word". There was good reason for that.

If I stop blood flow completely, especially at the extremities, tissue could begin to die.

She would have to sacrifice her arm.

Torniquets were a last resort option...

But then again, what time would qualify as "last resort" if not now, when the odds were stacking against them, like bricks in a wall?

Especially with that Grimm threatening to bring the whole building down on their heads like that, wouldn't that count as even more reason to call this time for a "last reso—"

"!!" he said with a wince.

Ow...

He had a bad habit of doing that these days.

Not paying enough attention. Getting mixed up in what-ifs and questions that didn't pertain to the matter at hand.

Hell, even telling himself how he kept doing so felt like something he was doing every half-second now. Going all meta lost its luster if you did it all the time. At double-speed if you didn't even reach some big breakthrough or insight for your trouble.

Instead, he just nicked his thumb. It'd be gone in but a few seconds...

Otherwise satisfied with his handiwork, he nodded his thanks to Cian before turning back to the pink-haired girl currently very much more in need of his attention than idle thoughts or a disappearing scratch.

Can't even serve as a reminder, really. Nothing to pay attention to.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Oh, how wrong I was.

There wasn't any way I could have known or expected it. At the time, I hadn't realized anything out of the ordinary had happened.

A guy who wasn't paying attention scratched himself because he wasn't minding a blade.

Moreover, said guy's nicks and scratches heal at an accelerated rate in a way that defied any laws of thermodynamics. It was his semblance, after all. Aura was there to take care of the difficult things like those.

Yep, just Aura.

Just another tiny drop of aura that had to be burned automatically. That was the sum of my feelings, on the impact of that moment of carelessness.

As I began to tie in the first bandage I must have done it. It's the point where it makes sense for it to happen.

It couldn't have been more than a drop, cast against enough of hers for me to have never noticed it.

My blood touched her wound.

Only one, and only a drop at most.

It's kind of funny, in a way, that such a tiny event could start the chain that set me on my path. Towards my fate, or at least what became of me.

It's the sort of thing you'd never imagine would ripple out like that, you know?

"Butterfly effects were only that excessive in some crazy adventure story."

That's what you always tell yourself. It's what I always told MYself.

But—and this is in no way any form of pretention or preaching— I was wrong.

Because this infinitesimally tiny coincidence, my life was thrown onto a new course. I had grabbed hold of a new chain of events.

That's honestly what I believe.

I may not know for sure where this chain ends—if it even has yet—or, for that matter, if it truly begins here.

After all, weren't some of the things that lead to this turning point things that happened because I was me?

The semblance is the reflection of the self. That's the accepted theory.

If so, wouldn't this have found another way to come to pass if this particular instance hadn't heppened?

Maybe.

If so, wouldn't this chain have been linked by nobody else who could have possibly been in my position?

I doubt it.

Not due to the fact that semblances are each in some way unique, because if someone with my exact skillset took my place, I still think they would walk a different path.

This was an event that would change my life, sure.

But how it was changed, ultimately, probably came down to me.

The kind of guy I am.

So, you could say it was just as much my fault as it was this event's.

Or, that this event gave me the capacity to meet the fate I did.

...In any case, this is what I feel about it. It may seem janky, twisted, and not at all coherent in my words, but it's what I have. 

The truth is something you'll never get out of me. Not by design, but by human nature.

I can't objectively tell you anything about this. I just have my own viewpoint and circumstances to view this through.

The truth is something clean, solid, and unchanging, no matter who says it. It remains what it is no matter the viewpoint, or circumstances.

You need water to live. The sun shines. 

Things like that are the truth. I could be from Vacuo but speak Rough Mistralian, and still be able to agree with that.

The truth is something for everyone. Understanding is the lens we view things through, never cut-and-dry between two people.

I have no truth for this matter.

Only my own understanding. My janky, twisted, incoherent, and unique understanding.

And sometimes, that's all we can offer. Perhaps it'll be enough.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

W-wait.

Blinking twice and pausing, Luke held the current bandage aloft above her midsection. He'd already managed to get some work done on the largest wounds he could find, that wasn't the issue here.

But wasn't there something just below this one?

He could have sworn...

Shaking his head, he continued applying the former piece of clothing to the long cut he had been focusing on before. It might have just been him panicking and mistaking blood from it for another wound, right?

...

"It's not perfect, but this is the best I can do." he murmured in apology, as he tied the last strip of cloth around her limp frame.

The best he could do.

If only it was more.

Gingerly, he rose with her in his arms, slow and steady. He was handling something not only fragile, but already broken. A clean and jerk wouldn't help her any more for the whole second and a half it would have saved.

...This would have to count as "ready to go". 

"I've got her about as patched up as I can."

And I'll get her home if it kills me.

That much, at least, I can do too.
HereComesTheSnow Member

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