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nichocolatine[ 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!
