SOTF Archive/SOTF Classic

"Violet!"

The rest of the scene became muted in comparison as Kyle rushed over to Violet. He didn't keep track of where the conversation was going, and he didn't notice anyone else's movements. Right then, he was focused on the fact that his best friend was there, and she was hurt.

He wanted to run up and hug her, but he remembered her issues with touching, so he staggered his steps and stopped about an arm's length away, not wanting to make her too uncomfortable. However, the bloody mess on her forehead wasn't something that he could let sit and wait. It looked bad, maybe not immediately life-threatening, but bad. He couldn't afford to ignore it. It wouldn't just be violating the ideals he hoped to live up to as a doctor to leave it untreated, but it would be a betrayal of Violet as a friend.

"Violet, what happened?" He exclaimed, his eyes drawn straight to her injury. "Are you okay?"

"What the fuck?"

Tirzah just popped her head out of the bushes, and in a flash, she was gone again. Running after the Carters like she had a death wish. What in the name of Jesus H. Christ was that about?

Any stray thoughts about that nonsense were pushed out when Violet sauntered on in with a bleeding head wound.

"Shit!" he cursed "Violet- jeez, are you alright!?"

He immediately realized that the question was both redundant, as Kyle had already asked, and unnecessary, because of course she wasn't fucking alright. He knelt down and rifled through his bag, pulling out the first aid kit.

"Er- Kyle, what we do?" He was the expert here, after all.

"Hit my headonabranch," Violet crumblemumbled, taking a backwardstep, "hurts."

Must've been really bad, right? So bloodmuch for such a small hole. Gashtorn, ripscuttled. Sweating she was, flannelheat rising from her body and shakestarting her warmth in the tropical haze. Manyfolk peppered the bushline, caught in other conversations, in the whipcrack of her snarlspeech as she was in the tracelines of blood sticking to her forehead. Dished out, unregiftable, this pain was. Oppositended side from when she pointed her rifle at other people. Oppositended side too from her earlier panic, this strain. Disorientation, dissasociation, selfreduction to sensationpain. Something she'd get lost in for eons lived in seconds, panflashes in cosmic scale.

It was Kyle's stutter-stepped approach that pulled her from the web.

Suddenly she was confronted once again with reality, with things that could actually physical occupy the same space as her. Stress took on a different color. Her thoughts stopped tripping over one other, and the material world slipped back into lensfocus. Sort of. She was in a forest with physical, non-subjective trees. All in her head, it was. Mostly. Not at all mostly, but the response was something she could control around. The people before her were not extra-dimensional, scary people of an unknown number. They were four people she'd seen around school, and because they weren't monsters like Lorenzo (right?) she felt like she could probably trust them. It wasn't really a choice, trusting them.

And the wound suddenly stopped being so scary. It was bleeding really bad, but it wasn't especially deep, or in a very vital spot. She knew that it wasn't the entrance to a deeper stab-wound or anything. Patch it up, clean it, keep it from getting infected, and she was fine, right? The only problem was that Violet couldn't see it. She didn't know just how disgustibad it was, or what needed to happenstance 'round it, and she didn't know first-aid. Pain was still there. Stress still present, different color. She couldn't operate on herself, if she needed to, nor could she stitchsert some metal in or anythinganything. Blending and bending. It was kind of silly to assume anyone had medical gear of that caligree—the first aid kit could be heavy duty at some things and useless at others.

So, she needed to trust somebody. Trusting somebody this way was incredibly hard, lump-in-throat hard, hot magma rocks sliding down the back of throat difficult. The sort of mutual trust and inner-cheek chewing that was reserved for doctors and dentists whom she could not live without the service of. Transactional trust, based out of necessity. Kyle was the obvious answer, the easiest and hardest candidate-person for medic duty. Easiest because she knew him the best of anyone here, and the hardest because that made it hard to see him an in impersonal, detached way.

But she needed to live.

She needed to outrun Karma.

"Can you help me, Kyle?" she asked shakily, wispily quiet, taking a step forward, "Hel—with the bleeding?"

As suddenly as Tyra or Trisha or—Tirzah, her name was Tirzah, yeah, Confirmed, X-files music in the background, Illuminati pyramid looming, no one else in Chatt, much less Hunter High, had a name like that—as suddenly as she arrived, she left, leaving a few questions lingering in Joanne's mind. Where did she come from? Where did she go? How could she make a Cotton-Eye Joe pun with a name like Tirzah? What kind of drugs were her parents smoking when her parents named her? What???? even is a Tirzah??????????

And also, had that gun in her skirt always been there?

Joanne brushed that last question away as the bushbeing walked into the horizon. Not her problem anymore.

And Kenzie seemed to be all calmed down and shit thanks to the healing power of Hugs and Friendship, so really, the only problem left to worry about was Violet bleeding crimson. And damn it was bleeding a lot. Too much, really. Too much crimson streaming down her forehead, down her cheeks, crimson dripping, an opening shot, vacant eyes—Joanne shook her head, she didn't wanna go back—her head shook, eyes lit up, vacancy signs turned off. Blinked her tears away. Bad shit right there (fourth? fifth? time she thought about that meme, but it was just so versatile! Ugh! Its power!), leave those thoughts with that red tank top. Throw it away, discard it, cancel it.

Besides, it lowkey looked like she didn't even have to worry about that. Kyle knew all there was to know about first-aid right? And Violet was literally asking for him? Kyle even came with an extra Billy Trevino, no additional cost (excluding shipping and handling). So, yeah. Maybe Joanne didn't have to be a Bo$$ Bitch for now, since things were all handled. Felt lowkey disrespectful, but barging in might do more bad than good, f things up a little. They'd understand. Joanne could step back, or stay in place, rather, let the doctors do their work, and keep Kenzie company in case she needed it. The boys would just call them over if they really needed the help. And maybe she could also afford not to look at Violet. Jesus, that was a lot of blood.

Joanne averted her gaze, looked upwards. These trees sure looked nice, huh.

And there Tirzah had gone, as quickly as she'd appeared. Mackenzie didn't know if she could take Wyatt and Bret, but this approach of darting amongst the rushes was probably the way to go if anyone wanted to do it. Ambush them while they don't expect it, then put a bullet in their...

Dangit, why was this kind of talk coming so easily? They'd been on this island for less than a day and she was already planning out murders in her head? What was wrong with her?

Outwardly, the only sign that Mackenzie was wrestling with herself was that she was pressing her fingers against her temples. She needed a distraction, and the trouble was, the only person in need of help already had too many cooks hovering around her, so that was right out. But wait...yes, that's right! Joanne didn't look like she was doing anything. So, turning to her, she figured that she might as well bring up a different concern, seeing as it appeared like the sun was beginning to wane.

"Looks like it could get dark in an hour or two," she said, trying to be as casual about it as possible. "Maybe we should find someplace, hopefully indoors to get away from the bugs. I don't know about you, heh... but I didn't pack for a camping trip." She let out a hearty yet noticeably forced blast of belly laughter. After everything that had happened, after what she'd gone through and experienced, she could use a bit of decompression, whether or not it was natural.

Besides, on reflection, she'd gotten out of everything very easily. She'd been shot at, sure, but without a scratch on her, and she'd lived to tell the tale. Not many people could say that. And the next time she faced down someone with a gun, she'd have a better idea of how to approach the problem.

Not head-on, that was for sure.

Tiziah left, and Kyle didn't notice. All of his focus was on Violet, with a momentary break in concentration to take notice of Billy's first aid kit and get a look at the supplies for a few seconds. As long as the wound wasn't too deep or infected, he felt that he would be able to handle it. But before anything, he needed to get Violet ready and clean the area so that he could get a better look.

Kyle knew that this had potential to be far, far harder than it sounded, and he prayed that it wouldn't be. With Violet's phobia, he wasn't sure if she would even let him treat the wound, but he had to keep hope that she would be willing to do so.

He needed to take a moment and breathe. Focus on what was important. Forget the island, forget the search. Just stay focused on helping Violet.

"I can help, Violet." Kyle said reassuringly. "We have the supplies to patch you up. I just need you to let me clean up the wound and dress it, okay?" He looked up at her, the massive difference in height becoming extremely apparent. Kyle would have to stretch his arms way up in order to reach her forehead, if he could even reach in the first place. "I'm gonna need you to sit down or lie down so I can get a better look at it. Is that all right?"

Kyle took the first-aid kit from Billy's hands and went up to violet, talking about dressing the wound and stuff. Billy felt pretty damn useless in this situation, he'd never patched up a serious wound before and all he could do was stand and watch as Kyle tried to take care of things. Funny, the whole time they were trekking through the forest Billy had felt that he was leading the smaller boy around, and now the roles were reversed.

With nothing to do there, Billy turned back to Mackenzie and Joanne. It looked like they were all in this together now. Night was approaching and they had to find a place to camp and rest. Hopefully, in the morning, Mac would be less shell-shocked and Violet would be in better condition. And Joanne would be less annoying. Okay, maybe that was too much to hope for.

"Er... yeah, let's find a place to camp out." Billy said, examining the surroundings. "I don't know about indoors, but... we could easily find a place around here away from the path with good cover. Keep a rotating lookout."

"Right here," Violet said, "we're doing this right here," and she went and sat against the nearest tree, putting one bag on either side of her as she straightened out and put her legs straight ahead. She grabbed either bag through the straps, her hands reaching over them like couch cushions. If anyone stumbled into this treeclearing and sightsaw her there, slightly crumpled against the tree, they'd assume she was relaxing, reclining after a hard day's work, supported well by cushiony bags of food and clothes and guns. Looking up at Kyle was a very different experience from looking down at him. Any sense of separation she felt before, any inklingclanation she had of him not being able to basically do anything to her, here, was gone. But, still. Here she was, with the straps of the bags around just above her elbows. Looking relaxed. She was relaxed. Visit to the doctor. Transactional.

A droplet of blood slid off her face and landed on her flannel.

"Tie the straps, Kyle."

Violet closed her eyes and began to visualize herself enclosed in a prism of indigo light.

Kyle followed Violet to the tree and looked down where she lay. She looked oddly calm, which actually unnerved him in a way. She was bleeding from her face in an unknown remote location, and... she was seemingly unbothered, even though he knew that couldn't possibly be the case.

Focus Kyle, focus. You can think about that later. Right now you need to just help Violet. Whatever else is going on can be dealt with later.

His hands tremble a bit as he comes closer, but he still moves slowly and carefully, doing his best to keep from triggering a reaction from Violet. He is very careful not to touch her as he grabs the straps and ties them, latching down her arms. When he was done, both arms were securely fastened, and he looked at her face again, eyes closed with a serene expression.

He reached over to the medical kit and grabbed his first supplies. "I'm about to clean it up, okay?" He informed her softly.

The prism bent inwards like a mesh fabric when Kyle drew near. It nestled close to her skin, but it did not puncture. The energy of his aura was not malicious, nor was it anything but delicate and controlled. She saw in her mind's eye the gentle reshaping of the prism to accommodate his own unconscious projection of energy—the same ones that all humans, she knew, projected, whether they knew it or not. It was nervous and inexperienced, but well meaning.

He tied the straps just tight enough that they'd hold against the forces of gravity and time, but not so tight as to constrict her arms in a way that was uncomfortable. That, too, was indicative of pure intent, a goodness that logically should have been met with a lowering of Violet's guard, an opening of her eyes, an acknowledgement of his presence now that he was standing there, asking her if it was okay to proceed, clearly respectful of her boundaries and the heat rising against the surface of her skin that she could not help but feel.

The blood was trickling down the side of her face, now. More droplets spilled onto her flannel, red on red on red.

It was all Violet could do to nod in response.

She was doing good so far, and Kyle fed off of that energy, pulling a disinfectant wipe out of the kit. He prepared it and held it up, not bringing it to Violet quite yet. The mild moistness dampens the tips of his fingers, and he speaks again.

"All right, I'm going to wipe your head now. It might sting a bit, but that's just the wipe killing the germs."

He hesitates for a few seconds. The last thing that he wanted was for Violet to panic and flail, either losing the wipe, getting it in her eye, or having some other horrible consequence take place. He took a deep breath and brought it to her forehead, wiping away the blood from her cut, and revealing the wound in full.

It wasn't pretty, that was for sure, but there was a silver lining. It was a painful-looking gash, but it wasn't incredibly deep. He could probably bandage it and let it heal on its own, no needles or stitches required. Actually a stroke of luck, all things considered.

"It's not that bad." He said, attempting to reassure her.

The prism was cracking.

It didn't matter that he was trying his best not to touch her with his actual flesh. It didn't matter that the wound wasn't as bad as it felt, or looked, or made her feel. It didn't matter because the real fear didn't come from outside, but within. It was the memories conjured, the after-burn, singed taste-bud feeling spreading through her entire body. It came from inside her, and she could not say that her will was strong enough to circumvent it. For all the mountains she could move with her magick, she could not move this one. And she had tried.

The prism was still cracking. He'd need to act fast.

"Bandage it up," she said, grimacing, "do it quick."

Oh no.

Kyle thought that things were going well, but the way that Violet was reacting told him another story. He hastily reached into the kit and cut some bandages and gauze as quickly as he reasonably could. He was admittedly rushing his work, which wasn't something that he would ever consider doing professionally. However, this wasn't professional work. This was about keeping Violet from breaking down and making sure that she could heal at the same time.

He pressed the gauze against her wound and stretched the bandage over it, applying enough pressure to make sure that it was secure and could keep any debris from getting in while it healed. He took his hands away as soon as he was able to confirm that it was applied decently, and shut the kit.

"All right Violet, I'm done." He said, taking a step away for good measure, just in case she needed that extra space.

Violet wriggled slightly under the pressure of the bandage against her forehead once Kyle had finished applying it. The prism had shattered when the gauze touched her, but she hadn't been mentally present in that sphere to notice it. No, she had departed and gone deeper into herself. She hadn't even seen it break. She'd nestled into the good memories, then. The time she ran into Kyle at the store when she was still wearing her robe. What a goofy, fun time, right? It was all so distant now. That robe was in one of the bags, and that bag was particularly light on her arm.

But before she could raise it, he was done. That was it. Finished. Bandage applied, bleeding stopped.

She opened her eyes, looked at Kyle, and let out a deep sigh.

"Thank you," she said, too weary to smile.

"I want to be untied now."

Kyle flinched a little with embarrassment. Amidst all of the drama regarding Violet's wound, he had actually forgotten that he had tied her arms down. He sheepishly stepped over and loosened the straps around her wrists, enabling her to get herself free.

"Sorry about that." He apologized. "So how do you feel now? Any better?"