capeandcowllogs | A Night in West Egg

Entry tags:

A Night in West Egg

WHO: EVERYBODY OF ALL AGES
WHERE: The Xavier Institute
WHEN: The night of June 16th, all night!
WARNINGS: Who can really tell anymore? Probable language. Possible violence. Copious dancing.
SUMMARY: PROM PROM PROM PROM PROM PROM PROM
FORMAT: OPEN

The guests into an auditorium transformed. Through the magic of papier mache, the room has been decked out like a speakeasy, the refreshments laid out on a very makeshift bar that will not stock alcohol as long as they can prevent it. The whole room is cast with a cool blue light, and a jazz band's been hired to take the stage for an hour before leaving the rest of the evening to the DJ.

It was time to get this party started.

quick-links!
DANCE FLOOR
REFRESHMENTS
SIDELINES
OUTSIDE

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It takes every ounce of his willpower not to bark in pain when she shoves at his wound. His tail wraps itself around her legs, one of his hands snapping around the wrist on his bandage as he shoves her back again, seeking to trip her with his tail.

He's forced to fold his wing to keep himself balanced without knocking anything or anyone over. If someone hadn't noticed them before, someone is bound to notice them now.]

[The trip up works, but she's not going down by herself. She grabs at his mantle to forcibly drag him down with her, and then rolls them over to straddle him so she can have more control of the situation.

Her fist collides with his face again now that she's got her bearings on the situation.]

[It took Hank a moment to close the distance once he noticed the fight, and a lot of other attendants for him to bound over, but he wastes no time in dropping in a hand to scoop up and hold the girl from dishing out any further beating.]

And just what is going on here?!

[At first glance, he doesn't recognize either of them. Whether they're students or not is something his three-month absence couldn't answer, but looking closer at the orange birdboy he realizes he has a face he'd seen in detention rather often. Why he's a bird is anyone's guess.]

...Mr. Strider?

[Scathach was right behind Hank. She had heard the commotion from across the gym, and had deftly dodged between students who were still dancing or gawking. Her arms were around the... winged boy just seconds after Hank grabbed up the girl. She was about the same height as him, but her arms locked around his middle and wing like a vice.]

I would also like an explanation.

[Her voice was calm, but the Irish lilt was very pronounced. Probably not a good sign.]

[When Dave is dragged down, he loses most of his advantage. He shoves violently at Vriska until Hank pulls her off and he's forced to release his tail's hold around her legs. He swipes blindly at her face, claws out, trying to grab some part of her to rip her out of Hank's grasp. He likely only succeeds in either smacking her or scratching her somewhere above the neckline.

When Scathach grabs him, he thrashes briefly until he realizes where her arms are and forces himself to bite his tongue to keep from outwardly displaying his pain.

When he speaks, however, its very strained -- your arm is on the huge bandaged and bleeding hole in his stomach, Scatty. This whole gym is going to be covered in gold by the time he leaves.]

Yeah, that's me. [He coughs when he tries to sit up and only ends up hurting himself more.] Easy on the goods, lady.

Edited 2012-06-19 01:38 (UTC)

[ And of course, what would a fight be if the catalyst that unintentionally started the whole mess wasn't there to see it? Nothing, that's what! John is standing a good several yards away, having stumbled onto the scene in time to see Vriska punch Davesprite in the face before the two of them got ripped away from each other.

And man, he sure doesn't look happy about this mess.

His shoulders slump slightly and he looks back and forth between Vriska and Davesprite, before taking a look at the people that broke them up. They seem to have it covered, and Davesprite will probably need someone to call an ambulance for him, what with how he's bleeding as heavily as he is.

Plus John doesn't really want to be in this room anymore right now. So he'll turn around and slip out, fumbling to grab his phone as he goes. ]

[Dave's hand catches the left side of her face, and she screeches at the unexpected pain and she's already trying to lunge for him again except oh wait someone has a really firm hold on her. She can feel blood bubbling up from the fresh scratches, and it's not long before cerulean is trickling down into her eye. At least he missed her eightfold eye, but not by a lot. She might actually kill him if he damaged that.]

Let go!

[She struggles until she catches sight of John in the corner of her eye and she goes rigid. That look he's giving them? Yeah, it hits her harder than anything Dave had done in the last five minutes. She wiggles, trying to see if she can use the blood all over her dress as a lubricant to slip out of his grip. She has to go after John, she just has to.]

Let me go!!

[Hank tries to tighten his grip, but all that blood is definitely a source of concern. She was bleeding, as well, but her wounds were minor enough not to take priority.]

Scatty, I think he's bleeding! Trade with me, but be careful, she's quite the little spitfire.

[She almost immediately noticed the wound, and swore in Gaelic. A student this injured shouldn't have come to prom--he should have been in a hospital. But she shifts her arms, intrigued by the yellow blood but not enough to waste time asking about it. The redhead nods, and picks him up as gently as she can (still restraining the wing) to hand him over to Hank.]

This is your area, yes. Give me the girl.

The fuck did you just say?

[Davesprite glanced over his shoulder at Scatty shortly before the conversation actually registered in his head. Again, he wiggles a bit to try and straighten himself, despite the hold she has on her wing.]

Nah, that ain't blood, I got busy with the body paint before I got here. Surprise, rise and shine, its time put the douchebag down now.

[The moment Vriska feels the grip on her loosen for the exchange, she's slipping out and darting into the throng of people to escape. And more importantly for her, to go after John. She figures they'll be distracted enough with Davesprite's wound to not follow her. It is pretty bad, after all.]

[Hank's top hat goes flying in the struggle, and his silly little monocle hanging from its chain, so he reaches into his pocket to get his glasses.

Vriska is right, he has too much to deal with here to worry about catching her.]

I've encountered enough non-human biologies to know blood when I see it, son. Guessing from the bandages, this is a previously existing wound exacerbated by the exertion.

[He puts a hand on Davesprite's shoulder, just firm enough that he isn't going anywhere.] We're going to the nurse's station, I can work better there.

Are you good to walk?

[She doesn't waste her time answering Dave, or letting Hank know what she's doing. As soon as his hand is on the boy's shoulder, she goes after the girl. She wasn't about to let her get away if there was something to be done about it.]

[In truth, he hadn't really felt this shitty in a long time, though whether it was because of the blood loss or because he saw the look John had given them was anyone's guess.

But there is absolutely no way he's letting this guy carry him. Its a bit of a slow process, getting his body straight again, but once he does Davesprite floats into the air wordlessly. Once that's done, he answers Hank back.]

I can do this myself.

It might be better not to put the strain on yourself, but if you insist.

[And with his hand still on the boy's shoulder, he leads him out of the auditorium.]

[Davesprite pauses to watch where Vriska's run to, fighting Hank's hold for a moment to try and search for her and John.

He doesn't linger long -- there was one thing Vriska had said that stuck, and that was that John didn't need him watching over him like a child. She wasn't wrong about that, but he couldn't help but feel a sense of--

Well. He was gone now. And Dave was starting to feel a little dizzy from blood loss.]

So remind me who you are.

[He turns back around, slowly but stubbornly hovering alongside Hank.]

[Hank notices him watching, but isn't about to let it delay them. At the rate Dave was bleeding, he's hesitant to let anything delay attention to it. He'd have to ask about it once this situation was under control.

He lets out a snort at the question.]

Honestly, a guy's gone a few months and suddenly all the students forget he's the former headmaster! You've got the color of a goldfish, Mr. Strider, but let's not start adopting their other traits.

[He pauses a moment, his brow furrowing.] Though it's a little embarrassing to think I'd never noticed the bird thing before. Have you...always been able to do that?

Different Dave. Long story.

[One he doesn't sound keen on retelling, especially to a guy who claims any kind of authority. But at least he knew who this guy was now.]

Pretty sure the one you know can't do the bird thing.

...Ah. Alternate universes can always be a bother. But coexistent counterparts are much easier to deal with when neither one is evil.

You aren't evil, right?

[Hank's was, it's awful and he doesn't recommended it. But knowing this is a different Dave is perhaps only more embarrassing. Maybe he'd caught him fighting, but the response feels somewhat more awkward now that he knows he's dealing with a (mostly) complete stranger.]

You'll forgive the confusion, I hope. This isn't quite the time for proper introductions, but I'm Dr. McCoy. The doctorate does include medical expertise, which is the important thing at the moment.

Striders are all inheritly evil, dude. We got our own theme music and everything.

[He shrugs and coughs, wiping a bit of blood on the back of his hand.]

No big. Still Dave. Just not the one you know.

[The note on the doctorate makes his brow furrow a bit.]

So no bribes to get you to let this one go, huh?

Edited 2012-06-26 04:30 (UTC)

And let you bleed to death on the way home? Somehow I just can't see myself allowing that!

[He shrugs with his free hand and gives Dave his most exaggerated frown.] Total mystery, I know, but something about it just feels wrong.

[Dave actually pauses for a moment to catch his breath, nearly collapsing in the process. Ok, maybe he underestimated how bad this wound was. After all, he had been pretty close to death as it was before he got to the City, and now Vriska made it worse while it had just begin the healing process.

At least his broken wing hadn't been further aggravated, but then again, the hole through his stomach was probably cause for more immediate concern.

Fuck, she got him good.]

[Hank winces with worry at that. It already looked bad, so to find it was that much worse is a bit of a shock! Bleeding to death on his way home would be one thing, but on the way to the nurse's station?

He could get there much faster on his own pace. Letting Dave float on his own was only slowing them down.]

I think it might be better if we forego your pride at this point. Speed is of the essence, and I don't want that wound further aggravated!

[He takes one moment to check to make sure nobody's watching (nice try Hank, but not quite), not that it matters because Dave is about out of energy. Thankfully, he dodged the spiked punch, but it also meant that he didn't have any fluids in him. But since nobody is watching...]

Yeah, ok, you win big guy.

[He'd be quickest on all fours, but there's really no chance of that in this situation. Taking Dave in his arms delicately, he still has a lot more freedom to move, leap, and run.]

You made it out of the auditorium, you've got that much going for you, at least.

[It takes maybe a minute to cross the halls to the nurse's station, which, because this is the X-Men we're talking about, is honestly about as equipped as a mini-hospital.

Hank sets Dave down on a bed and peels away the bandages carefully. ...He might need the trauma equipment.]

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Vriska is gonna check out of this thread

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