𝐁𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐔 "the worst (adoring)" 𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nichocolatine) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
futurology2016-04-24 12:58 pm
nichocolatine) wrote in futurology2016-04-24 12:58 pm
video | username: NAILS | sometime after powers go all cray
[ oh hey alastair. 'sup. how's your day going? probably loads better than badou's, if the sudden video broadcast of what has to be the saddest image to grace this freaky network is of any indication. he's on the ground somewhere outside, probably deep into the island's forests from the look of all the dirt and greenery, but it's kinda hard to focus on the setting when you factor in the rest of him.
real talk? he ain't looking so good. bruised, beaten, and bleeding, he looks like he got into a fight with a demon-possessed blender and, not only did he lose, but that blender pretty much made him its bitch.
speaking of — son of a bitch that hurt. and not just in one area, either, it was one of those great "all over even where the sun don't shine" kinda pains and it's a wonder he hasn't cried or died from it already. he looks on the verge of it though, both of those, probably gonna be at the same time but for now, for the blessed moment of now, he manages to keep it together. ]
So, uh. s'There a doctor in the house?
[ help, he's fallen and he can't get up.
he's moving, at least, if the stilted way he tries to wiggle a hand into one of his pockets can even be counted as "moving." it takes him far too long, with a lot of guttural muttering, but eventually he manages to fish out a single cigarette. this he shakily lifts up to his mouth, which unfortunately bobs precariously since he can't seem to stop talking. ]
Preferably one that ain't gotta wave a wand at me, f'you catch my drift, I'm thinking I reached my """"magic"""" quota for the day, thanks. [ bitter? who? him? ] Just a head's up — if walk in on a blue tattooed thing wandering 'round looking like he might wanna murder ya, SPOILERS he's gonna wanna murder ya so, y'know, don't.
[ shaky hands bring up a lighter, and the flame comes dangerously close to his nose as he tries to light the cigarette hanging from his lips. ]
Sonuvabitch made me waste an entire magazine on him too, where the hell am I gonna get more of that 'round here, huh—
[ he cuts off suddenly, watching in horror as the cigarette falls from his mouth, landing uselessly beside his head. it seems the last of his strength leaves him in that moment, his hands also falling uselessly to his sides.
he draws in a deep, shaky breath, staring up blanking into the sky. for a second, just silence.
and then, in a glorious wail— ]
I FUCKING HATE IT HEEEEEEERE!
real talk? he ain't looking so good. bruised, beaten, and bleeding, he looks like he got into a fight with a demon-possessed blender and, not only did he lose, but that blender pretty much made him its bitch.
speaking of — son of a bitch that hurt. and not just in one area, either, it was one of those great "all over even where the sun don't shine" kinda pains and it's a wonder he hasn't cried or died from it already. he looks on the verge of it though, both of those, probably gonna be at the same time but for now, for the blessed moment of now, he manages to keep it together. ]
So, uh. s'There a doctor in the house?
[ help, he's fallen and he can't get up.
he's moving, at least, if the stilted way he tries to wiggle a hand into one of his pockets can even be counted as "moving." it takes him far too long, with a lot of guttural muttering, but eventually he manages to fish out a single cigarette. this he shakily lifts up to his mouth, which unfortunately bobs precariously since he can't seem to stop talking. ]
Preferably one that ain't gotta wave a wand at me, f'you catch my drift, I'm thinking I reached my """"magic"""" quota for the day, thanks. [ bitter? who? him? ] Just a head's up — if walk in on a blue tattooed thing wandering 'round looking like he might wanna murder ya, SPOILERS he's gonna wanna murder ya so, y'know, don't.
[ shaky hands bring up a lighter, and the flame comes dangerously close to his nose as he tries to light the cigarette hanging from his lips. ]
Sonuvabitch made me waste an entire magazine on him too, where the hell am I gonna get more of that 'round here, huh—
[ he cuts off suddenly, watching in horror as the cigarette falls from his mouth, landing uselessly beside his head. it seems the last of his strength leaves him in that moment, his hands also falling uselessly to his sides.
he draws in a deep, shaky breath, staring up blanking into the sky. for a second, just silence.
and then, in a glorious wail— ]
I FUCKING HATE IT HEEEEEEERE!
no subject
...cool.
no subject
He wondered if he would realize that running, at that point, would only lead to a hunt.
It wasn't as if he was interested in killing him, but maybe inspiring a little paranoia could be interesting.]
Fifteen minutes.
[OOC: |D Wanna continue into ->Action?]
action!!
chrollo will find him just as he is, prone and covered in gashes of varying sizes, lying in a pool of his own blood and tears.
it doesn't get sadder than this, folks. ]
no subject
He simply looked the other man over with mechanical scrutiny, before reaching to his side, removing a satchel with basic amenities for small surgeries. Aside from that, he pulled out a few seeds--which he scattered in the dirt.
Chrollo sifted through his satchel, opening The Bandit's Secret where Badou couldn't see. He let his thumb find the page to Green Mane and the seeds began to grow out and take root without even needing to be planted.
The plants would grow over the course of a minute as Chrollo began speaking.]
I'm going to give you something to help with the pain. It won't slow your heart rate. [He added, glancing at the pool of blood.] Since it's obvious that you could do without lower blood pressure.
[At that, Chrollo removed a length of string, a hooked bone needle, gauze, and bandages. He had already made his assessment of the injuries. Chrollo reached to Badou's wrist to check his pulse.
His tone seemed to shrug for him, even when he didn't do it himself.]
It looks bad, but I don't think you'll die quite yet.