Harland didn't even know Santiago's fucking name.
They'd gone to school together for who knew how long, really, and they'd been in the same grade for the same amount of time, but for some reason Harland was doing his weird force of quirkiness routine where he thought it was funny to act like a sociopath and not care about the names of the people around him, because oh I'm so much better than you because I don't give a shit, because I can afford to do that. Santiago knew Harland's name. Santiago knew Nathan's name. He'd be willing to be Nathan knew both of their names as well, it's not like Harland was some mysterious ghost looming over them. He existed, everyone knew Harland existed. It was hard not to when he was such a dickwad.
So it almost did him in right there and made him snap, purely based on the fact Harland had no idea what Santiago's name was, and that was just rude.
But there were more important things to focus on right now, like anything that wasn't anything Harland was saying. Nathan said he killed someone. Right now, Santiago was whatever about it, and the emotions betrayed on his face aligned with the antipathy. It's a whatever thing right now, especially compared to whatever Harland was saying.
Santiago needed to help Nathan, stitch him up. He pulled himself to his feet, stumbling a bit as the remaining drug in his system gave him the sensation of wafting through his muscles. His clothing stuck uncomfortably to his skin, still soaked in salt water, but despite this all, he walked to his bag and picked it up by the straps. The moment his sensations of discomfort and muddle passed, he strode over to Nathan with a slight increase in confidence.
"Hey," he started "it's whatever, don't worry about it."
Santiago placed his bag on the dock and started pulling things out. First, the aid kit; second, the food, mainly the water with the rations coming along for the ride; third, and most tangentially, what seemed to be his weapon. His thumb pressed against the side of a long, thin knife as he scrapped for a water bottle, being very lucky to have not cut his own finger off. He pulled it out as well. Maybe he could use it for something.
"Okay, so I'm gonna do the best with what I have, so while I figure all this stuff out, you should like...get all mentally prepared for the fact I'm stitching you back together. I know you've already had a knife in your leg, but still, just get ready."
Santiago opened the kit and started pulling out tools and liquids. Distractions were nice. There was no better distraction than slipping back into a familiar routine.
A Lo Hecho, Pecho
Phase 1 (0-12 Hours)
So, Edgy Kid's name was Nathan.
Well ok, that didn't mean Harland would stop calling hi—
Nathan dropped the bombshell. He killed a dude. Harland was staring at a murderer and the reality of the situation was just beginning to seep into his mind. Nathan fucking killed a dude. Fuck.
"Shit, dude... That's fucked..." He looked down at the ground, focusing his eyes on a patch of wood rot enveloping a portion of the board he was standing on. He knew he was just trying to avoid acknowledging the problem that Jesus fucking Christ, Nathan killed a dude, but so what? He needed to cope.
Drowny Guy began some first aid, probably. It wasn't like Harland knew anything about first aid, so he just stood back and let the other guy do the do.
"I'll uh, provide moral support..." He coughed, staring out across the open sea. He could see a few patrol boats, but other than that it was just an infinite array of blue flatness. If he weren't gonna die soon, he'd have called it pretty damn nice.
Well ok, that didn't mean Harland would stop calling hi—
Nathan dropped the bombshell. He killed a dude. Harland was staring at a murderer and the reality of the situation was just beginning to seep into his mind. Nathan fucking killed a dude. Fuck.
"Shit, dude... That's fucked..." He looked down at the ground, focusing his eyes on a patch of wood rot enveloping a portion of the board he was standing on. He knew he was just trying to avoid acknowledging the problem that Jesus fucking Christ, Nathan killed a dude, but so what? He needed to cope.
Drowny Guy began some first aid, probably. It wasn't like Harland knew anything about first aid, so he just stood back and let the other guy do the do.
"I'll uh, provide moral support..." He coughed, staring out across the open sea. He could see a few patrol boats, but other than that it was just an infinite array of blue flatness. If he weren't gonna die soon, he'd have called it pretty damn nice.
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Catche Jagger
- Posts: 743
- Joined: Tue May 28, 2019 7:40 pm
- Team Affiliation: Ben's Crabs
Nathan couldn’t help but be taken aback by how clearly disinterested Sandy seemed to be in the revelation that the wannabe rockstar was, in fact, a killer. The athletic boy had just shrugged off the revelation and went right to starting to help treat Nathan’s wounds, pulling out some items from his bag. Some part of him wanted to ask if something was wrong, but he knew it would be better to not question his good fortune.
At least the rat-boy was acting how Nathan might have expected, the flippant snark fading as the reality of the situation finally dawned on him.
With a sigh, Nathan stepped closer to Sandy. “Thanks, Sandy” he spoke calmly “this really means a lot.”
Not that he’d gotten over the hump, it was time for Nathan to get to work. First things first, he’d have to make sure Sandy hadn’t lost it himself...
At least the rat-boy was acting how Nathan might have expected, the flippant snark fading as the reality of the situation finally dawned on him.
With a sigh, Nathan stepped closer to Sandy. “Thanks, Sandy” he spoke calmly “this really means a lot.”
Not that he’d gotten over the hump, it was time for Nathan to get to work. First things first, he’d have to make sure Sandy hadn’t lost it himself...
"It's Santiago."
This momentary diversion hadn't stopped Santiago from getting through the gear, but it was a noticable one.
"But no problem, we're all gonna need help at some point."
Help was going to be the order of the day, it seems.
Especially considering the fact that the first aid kid he had under his fingers was, in actuality, a completely different one from the one he had at home, one which was destined for regular and invested use. He used to have suturing gear. Instead, none of that was here, not even a needle and thread. He parsed through the kit again, and yep, none of it existed.
So Plan B - butterfly strips.
Tearing away the excess and bloody pant from his leg, Santiago took an antiseptic wipe and gave the open wound a once-over. The jolt in his body told him it was doing its job, so Santiago went everywhere he could. Once that was done, he took several off the butterfly closure strips included in the first aid kit and applied them as best he could. The wound looked closed, or as closed as it was ever going to be, so Santiago took a pack of sterile dressing and applied it over his handiwork.
"Okay. I think that's done. I used to actually stitching things up, not working with those strips, but you should be fine in a while as long as you don't get stabbed again or exert yourself."
Finding himself without distraction once again, Santiago turned around to Harland, keeping the gaze for a few seconds. He wanted to make something out of nothing, cause a fight now that he was no longer as prone as a beached whale. Instead, he refocus himself on cleaning up the spread of aid kit belongings currently sitting along the dock.
This momentary diversion hadn't stopped Santiago from getting through the gear, but it was a noticable one.
"But no problem, we're all gonna need help at some point."
Help was going to be the order of the day, it seems.
Especially considering the fact that the first aid kid he had under his fingers was, in actuality, a completely different one from the one he had at home, one which was destined for regular and invested use. He used to have suturing gear. Instead, none of that was here, not even a needle and thread. He parsed through the kit again, and yep, none of it existed.
So Plan B - butterfly strips.
Tearing away the excess and bloody pant from his leg, Santiago took an antiseptic wipe and gave the open wound a once-over. The jolt in his body told him it was doing its job, so Santiago went everywhere he could. Once that was done, he took several off the butterfly closure strips included in the first aid kit and applied them as best he could. The wound looked closed, or as closed as it was ever going to be, so Santiago took a pack of sterile dressing and applied it over his handiwork.
"Okay. I think that's done. I used to actually stitching things up, not working with those strips, but you should be fine in a while as long as you don't get stabbed again or exert yourself."
Finding himself without distraction once again, Santiago turned around to Harland, keeping the gaze for a few seconds. He wanted to make something out of nothing, cause a fight now that he was no longer as prone as a beached whale. Instead, he refocus himself on cleaning up the spread of aid kit belongings currently sitting along the dock.
The waves sure were... wavy? Yeah, that seemed about right. Slowly moving, just kinda fwooshing over stuff. Harland felt a few droplets of water spray against his face as one of the waves he'd been watching to distract himself collided against the pier. It was nice - the kind of refreshing feeling you'd hope to feel during a hot summer day. Unfortunately, it was not the middle of summer right now, so all Harland got was a bitter, cold feeling after the initial splash.
Drowny and literally a murderer were like, talking and being all sentimental and stuff while they were patching up and Harland literally did not give a shit about any of that, so he kept staring out across the expanse. That is, until he heard Drowny say "you should be fine in a while as long as you don't get stabbed again", which caused Harland to give a subdued snort/laugh hybrid of sorts. The sheer absurdity of the statement, just like the whole thing, was enough to give him a smile. A scenario ran through Harland's head.
Drowny and literally a murderer were like, talking and being all sentimental and stuff while they were patching up and Harland literally did not give a shit about any of that, so he kept staring out across the expanse. That is, until he heard Drowny say "you should be fine in a while as long as you don't get stabbed again", which caused Harland to give a subdued snort/laugh hybrid of sorts. The sheer absurdity of the statement, just like the whole thing, was enough to give him a smile. A scenario ran through Harland's head.
Without any real interruption, Santiago managed to collect his spread of first aid belongings and gather them back to his bag. Once everything was back in its rightful place, he paused. He looked around.
The three of them were on a wharf, open to the entire...island, peninsula, wherever the class had been dumped. If Santiago was going to figure things out, he needed to be in a place where there wasn't the distinct possibility of being jumped by people who saw him a mile away yet he couldn't see jack shit.
Nathan was wounded and Harland was useless. But they more than likely weren't going to hurt him, so might as well extend the invitation.
"Alright, so I'm going to find somewhere safe. You two can come with if you want. Or don't. I'm not anybody's parent anymore."
And with that, Santiago began to walk off down the wharf. If fate were cruel to him, or forces of karma were headed his way, he'd step his foot on a weak plank and sever his leg as it went through. But he made it to the end without incident, and at some point his feet met dry land.
But even with the dirt under his shoes, Santiago's every step felt just as uneven and dangerous as they had on the docks.
((Santiago Ibarra continued elsewhere))
The three of them were on a wharf, open to the entire...island, peninsula, wherever the class had been dumped. If Santiago was going to figure things out, he needed to be in a place where there wasn't the distinct possibility of being jumped by people who saw him a mile away yet he couldn't see jack shit.
Nathan was wounded and Harland was useless. But they more than likely weren't going to hurt him, so might as well extend the invitation.
"Alright, so I'm going to find somewhere safe. You two can come with if you want. Or don't. I'm not anybody's parent anymore."
And with that, Santiago began to walk off down the wharf. If fate were cruel to him, or forces of karma were headed his way, he'd step his foot on a weak plank and sever his leg as it went through. But he made it to the end without incident, and at some point his feet met dry land.
But even with the dirt under his shoes, Santiago's every step felt just as uneven and dangerous as they had on the docks.
((Santiago Ibarra continued elsewhere))
Harland plinked away at the koosh ball. He liked the "Bink!" sound it made. It was kinda sorta like a guitar, except shittier and goofy looking.
Drowny was giving some speech, like "Hurr hurr I'm leaving you can come but you don't have to blah blah I'm not anyone's daddy no more huuuuuuu," and it was like, Christ dude, stop being so melodramatic 'n whiny boohoo.
Wait a sec... "not anyone's parent anymore"? Was... was Drowny a baby daddy? Oooh, that'd make a good opportunity for being mean to Drowny if he got bitchy again.
Fuck wait where did Drowny go? Harland had been too consumed in his own thoughts to notice him fuck off. After glancing around for a moment, he spotted him near the end of the pier.
"Uh... hey wait the fuck up, dickhead!" Harland hollered.
He looked down at literal murderer. "I'll race ya'."
He began chasing off after Drowny, a grin plastered on his face.
((Harland continued in Aché))
Drowny was giving some speech, like "Hurr hurr I'm leaving you can come but you don't have to blah blah I'm not anyone's daddy no more huuuuuuu," and it was like, Christ dude, stop being so melodramatic 'n whiny boohoo.
Wait a sec... "not anyone's parent anymore"? Was... was Drowny a baby daddy? Oooh, that'd make a good opportunity for being mean to Drowny if he got bitchy again.
Fuck wait where did Drowny go? Harland had been too consumed in his own thoughts to notice him fuck off. After glancing around for a moment, he spotted him near the end of the pier.
"Uh... hey wait the fuck up, dickhead!" Harland hollered.
He looked down at literal murderer. "I'll race ya'."
He began chasing off after Drowny, a grin plastered on his face.
((Harland continued in Aché))