psychoshenanigans | GRATIA // PSL

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GRATIA // PSL

So, here's what Irahl knows.

He's alone in a dark, cold cave. He has most, if not all, of his gear. No one is guarding his location. As he heads away from the spot where he came to consciousness, no one tries to stop him, and no one gets in his way. The few people he finds down there seem human, and not about to approach the nearly-seven-foot man that comes stalking out of the lower tunnels. Honestly, everyone here seems a surprised and a little astonished about his... Entire scene.

There is a way up. It's a maze of twisting corridors and confusing passageways, half of which feel too small for him. It's bigger and bigger groups of people, some of which scatter like schools of fish, and some of which have to be pushed through to get anywhere. It's climbing up into streets lit with dingy lights, graffiti-covered hallways, warehouses, weird holes in stone walls that may or may not be windows. It's alarm bells, it's people yelling at each other down the street. It's just an absurd number of stairs. A couple of people make an attempt to stop him somewhere, and it goes poorly for them.

Elsewhere, events are being set in motion where Irahl cannot see. But he's on his way out.

Eventually, more people try to stop him. At the end of another long stretch of Underground city, a group of official-looking folks are putting a real effort into blocking off the obvious exit, and some of them have weapons.

Down a side alley, into another tunnel, and then the space opens up into a... Plaza, of some sort? The floor is made of stone. The buildings surrounding it are made of stone and are hard to distinguish from one another. At at least the ceiling (also made of stone) is a lot higher than before. Cavernous. There's some kind of sculpture in the middle of it, some impressive feat of geometric stonework that gives the illusion of defying gravity despite weighing literal tons.

This is where someone finally catches him. Sounds have been echoing unhelpfully down every passageway, making it hard to tell if people are coming or going - but this series of quick footsteps comes from an upward direction before someone hits the ground about five feet in front of Irahl.

His clothes are different. His hair is better-kept. Maybe if the situation wasn't quite so tense, there'd be time to see the ways in which his face is different, the way his eyes don't have quite as vicious and sharp a gleam as they used to. But whatever Irahl can take in of him, there is Robin, having hopped down from a rooftop to put himself between him and the exit again.

"...Holy shit."

Kind of weird that he looks absolutely shocked to see the person in front of him, though.

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Finn does glance over briefly to make sure he hasn't fucked something up--but it's pretty quickly apparent that Irahl is not taking to him. Mostly because Seth responds.

"I was annoyed," the man says by way of explanation, probably. It's certainly not an apology. It's also really underselling the fury with which he'd headbutted the thing off of Irahl's face.

Finn finishes up some last stitches, cuts him loose, and begins the increasingly-arduous challenge of seeing if he can get Seth to sit back up again.

Annoyed, huh? There's a huff at that, though it's stilted and quiet with the strain it puts on his torn-up insides.

"I'd hate to see you mad."

It's a good thing that the two of them are finishing up over there, because Irahl is apparently getting restless. He's either feeling antsy from being stuck in one spot for so long, or the drugs are allowing him to feel okay enough to get bored. Turning his head, he looks off in the vague direction he remembers his visor landing, and kind of drapes his good arm in that direction as if he has any hope of reaching it.

If they make him wait any longer, he might try to get up to go look for it.

Should Irahl be paying attention, he might catch Seth smirking on his way back up to sitting... Though the moment vanishes quickly under another wince as his shoulder protests to being moved. Finn mutters at him to hold still before applying a thick gauze pad and doing his best to wrap the injury knowing he's still got at least two other stab wounds in Irahl to tend to.

As Seth sits there, feeling increasingly detached about the arm Finn is manipulating off to the side of his body (only mostly catching Finn's occasional order to "hold this" or "stop leaning"), something else crosses his mind that's apparently worth speaking of.

"Difficult to do."

Though if anyone manages to follow that through the significant silence that came before it and the wandering attention and the fact that some of them are busy doing potentially life-saving work, it'll be a small miracle.

"Hey, what are you doing...?" Finn asks, catching Irahl's vague draping, "Stop moving. What do you need."

Gods, Finn hopes this doesn't turn into him babysitting a couple of drunk people.

To be specific, Finn is babysitting two seven-foot-tall drunk people, who are inhuman enough to not care very much about the grievous wounds that have been punched into their bodies.

Irahl answers Finn by lifting fingers on the arm that has been left draped lethargically across the ground, but he's not actually pointing at anything. He's pointing at where he kind of vaguely thinks his visor and mask might be, but he hasn't actually spotted them, so it's not like looking in that direction will help put much context to his non-answer.

He doesn't answer Finn with actual words because he's too busy thinking about Seth's answer. And his thoughts are sluggish enough to also make his own reply pretty delayed, as he first thinks about what he has seen of Vincent's anger, makes a couple inferences, and finally assembles some words to say.

"Guess I'll try harder next time."

"You'll have to," Seth replies. Hard to say if that rather even statement is his go at fun banter, like 'you'll have to do better than that', or if he's simply stating that yes, when they inevitably do battle again one day, it will be nearly impossible to break his will and see him turn into a raging, flesh-eating monster.

Finn clips off Seth's bandages with a quiet huff and finally properly turns his attention over to Irahl. He doesn't really know what Irahl was trying to point at, so he... Basically ignores the gesture in favor of gathering up his supplies and heading over. Soon he's crouched down in the puddle of blood that's been pooling underneath Irahl this whole time, bag over his shoulder, looking pensively over the mess.

"...So we can do this one of two ways," he explains, holding up his fingers to show the following options, "I'm gonna stitch you up, and you can either tough it out and be in a lot of pain while I poke around in there, or I can give you some more painkillers and then you might not have to feel anything. What'll it be?"

Or they can do things a third way, in which Irahl picks neither option and instead says something unrelated.

Well, it's not completely unrelated. Irahl is already thinking about this little doctor session as Finn makes his way over, but it's about a different aspect than what Finn asks about. So, Irahl ignores his question in favor of the one already in his head.

"He owes me a new shirt."

Which, yes, it's kind of a humorous statement, but he means it more in the way that this shirt has been ruined, he doesn't have many other shirts, Seth had been the one to supply this one in the first place, so he's going to need a replacement sooner rather than later.

Also, he doesn't then return to Finn's question like a good boy now that he has made his statement, because he gets caught up in wondering if he should choose between having his shirt cut off of him or peeled off over his damaged body before the doctor can decide for him, but he can't pick which one he thinks would be worse.

Oh, Seth waves his good hand to brush off the subject immediately. Joke or not, he hardly thinks it's worth the concern.

"It will be done," he says, because anything worth saying is worth saying with tremendous gravity, "Have one of mine, for now."

Finn continues to crouch in this puddle of strange-smelling blood, staring into the middle distance, waiting for the guy in front of him to focus up or make some mistake he can use as an excuse to stop being nice and get to work.

Though he can't resist muttering, "I'm gonna start taking painkillers, at this rate."

With the promise of being able to replace his shirt as soon as they're done here, Finn can properly distract Irahl from his vague and restless thoughts and remind him of the question he'd sidestepped around.

Painkillers, right.

"Second one's faster, yeah?" That has become his priority, apparently. He might have protested it more before, but with some painkillers already onboard and making him care less about pretty much everything, he's fine with whatever. He just wants this ordeal finished as soon as possible, and it's a pretty safe bet that it will continue to be his answer for most of the choices to be made from here on out.

As dire as Irahl's situation looks, at least Finn's finally beginning to believe that it's not as grim as he'd initially thought. If this guy's got the energy to complain and ask questions, he can't be that bad. Either that, or he's got just... An absolutely insane pain threshold, which is also possible. Monster biology is confusing.

"Way faster," Finn confirms. He looks around for wherever that cap went, rattles a couple more pills out into it so that Irahl can dope himself up to his heart's content. And then he gets up to go look for something--comes back a minute later with a little stool he found. Probably meant for gardening, but he sets it down next to his patient so that he's got somewhere to put his tools (that isn't on the ground with all the blood).

"Man, is this what I get for skipping introductions this morning...?" He asks, meaning to provide a bit of humor before he starts getting very intimate with the inside of what might be his new coworker.

Humor is good. There had been no joking around during the poking and prodding of his early life that he's trying not to think about. The second round of meds he's taking are going to be a double-edged sword, but humor is something solidly from the present.

"Wasn't in the employee handbook," he mumbles. One would think they'd warn about the stiff penalties for breaches of etiquette around here. Honestly terrible HR policies.

And being very aware of how this is not actually going to be a time for fun, despite the joking, he makes his usual retreat by resting his good arm across his eyes. He'll just be in here while he's being put back together, thanks.

Even before Finn gets the shirt out of the way, he can see that the wound is obviously both bad and weird. There is a concerning amount of blood everywhere, but it's also not the bright red gush that it should be. The blood itself is a couple shades too dark, and flowing more like a hypothermic patient with chilled veins and a slowed heartbeat. Irahl's natural indifference is apparently so strong that even the way he bleeds is apathetic.

Earlier today, Finn ducked out of those 'introductions' because he took one look at Irahl and realized that conversation would have been painful for everyone. Ironically, he does the opposite as he starts flushing out and inspecting the wounds. Whether the painkillers put this guy on another planet or not, he wants to keep him engaged if he can. Just a hunch.

"Oh yeah, the handbook is garbage," he quips back, "Sorry no one warned you. It's just twenty pages of Seth talking about the burden of power and shit..."

Truthfully, Finn's very uncomfortable with this entire situation. His initiation onto this team was not one of joyous discovery or some grand commitment to a cause. He's here because he has to be. He's still trying to figure out what that means, and he still feels very new. Then, all of a sudden, he's thrust into a scenario where the stakes are suddenly very high, the survival of a key member of this group is depending on him despite the whole thing seeming very avoidable by all parties involved, and his place in the hierarchy between these two is not even remotely clear.

He was anxious enough telling Seth to lay down for his own good, but with Irahl, he has even less of an idea of where he stands. The guy's clearly far more experienced than he is, way more skilled in combat, and much more of a... Well, a monster. So he's better than Finn in almost every way, even if the "monster" part really doesn't earn anyone any points.

And Irahl's got such a mystique around him, from what the others have been saying. He projects this sort of distant aloofness, combined with the fact that he's kind of part of the group but also not part of the group... What's Finn supposed to do with that? He has no idea if he's supposed to be acting as a friend, a collage, a professional, a direct report, a subordinate, or none of the above.

Logically, he's the authority here, but... He can't help but feel like that isn't and shouldn't be true. There's a reason he keeps trying to give Irahl choices, outside of just good bedside manner.

"Jandru keeps threatening to add rules to it, but who knows when that change will get approved..."

But if there's anything going for him here, it's that he's decent at his job--which is understanding how monsters work. Irahl's physicality is very strange, but hardly the weirdest thing he's ever seen. There are recognizable organs in there, even if they aren't... Exactly... Doing what they'd typically do in humans, sort of. He follows threads of curiosity, intently picking over details with those glowing eyes of his, seeing traces of energy and magic that are invisible to everyone else.

He will do quick work, because it doesn't take him long to get an idea of what's actually important in there. It's enough to keep his discomfort down, at least while he's focused on the work. And in a way, focusing on keeping Irahl calm is probably helping him keep himself calm, so he will keep up the attempt.

"Seriously though, the application process around here is crazy. Which reminds me..." He says, hoping to distract from the fact that he's injecting some local anesthetic around the wound before going in with a needle and thread, "When you were doing your tests yesterday, did they make you do one where they blindfold you and have you walk backwards on a balance beam?"

At least there's a lot to be curious about in there, if Finn is looking for a distraction. Energetically speaking, most things about Irahl are strangely... all kind of the same. It's like nearly everything is made out of the same amount of energy. There are a few things that are more active and important than others, but other than that, Irahl is made of homogenous magic just holding itself in the shape of human. All the different pieces are technically doing what they're supposed to do (mostly), but there's a sense that they're just going through the motions. His liver has been skewered, but instead of his body freaking out because a vital organ has been damaged, that energy has just sort of shuffled over to the rest of him.

A human doctor not paying attention might not notice the weirdness with his body, but someone with weird eyeballs tuned into magical energy can certainly detect the difference.

By the time that Finn catches his attention with a question, Irahl is in a nice dissociated lull. Especially with his eyes covered, he doesn't notice the injection happen. The sensations of it just blend in with everything else.

"Yesterday..." he mumbles, wonderingly. It's hard to believe all that testing was only a day ago, and not spread out over the course of what would still have been an insanely busy week.

He never properly answers the question as his mind wanders along this new thought, contemplating the scope of everything that has happened within the last forty-eight hours, ending with the strong desire to finally go rest somewhere that isn't here lying on bloodstained stone.

So, he pipes up a few moments later, without explanation. "I won't get an infection."

Just throwing that out there and hoping to speed things up, so Finn won't spend extra time being careful or thoroughly flushing the wound.

Well, he technically doesn't need to keep Irahl's attention. He just needs him to periodically pipe up every once in a while so that he knows the guy isn't spiraling up there. The next thing the guy says gives him pause, though, as he realizes it's not related to his question.

"Oh..." A second later, Finn starts pulling off his gloves, "Well, you said it, not me."

If he can get in there with his bare hands, it'll go way faster. The way his hands naturally bend go against the way his gloves force them to conform, so getting those things off will actually improve his manual dexterity significantly.

"Then we'll get you out of here in no time."

The sewing will continue. Just a few stitches here and there to help keep everything together, his best guess at what to do to help the organs do whatever they need to do, and eventually flipping Irahl onto his good shoulder so that he can check out the exit wound on the other side.

There's an uncomfortable groan when Irahl is tipped onto his side, but it's more in reaction to the feel of various new sets of stitches pulling when his weight shifts than real pain or annoyance. It's just a gross feeling, and he kind of feels like the anesthetic is making the visceral unpleasantness of it worse.

Though, with the way his bad arm slumps to the stone floor as deadweight and Irahl doesn't to seem to notice, he doesn't seem like he's going to do anything about it. Looks like the drugs are really doing their job, despite whatever ways his internal systems do or do not work.

Finn has a very docile patient while he finishes closing up the first wound. When he moves onto the second one--which will be a challenge not only because of all of the mechanically-important things that could use some repair but also the couple of places where he'll have to work stitches around scales instead of only skin--Irahl perks up just a little, and vaguely points at his injured shoulder.

"How's it look?" he asks in that dire way that could just as easily be a joke as it could be genuine concern over a limb that he needs.

The scales have been one of those subjects of fascination that have been getting Finn through the general discomfort of this whole thing. He'd never say a thing about them out-loud, because he's hated the couple of times anyone's tried to comment on his situation, even as compliments. But they're pretty.

Even if they are going to be a pain to work around. He leans back at the question, cracking his now blood-covered knuckles and subsequently revealing all of his claws.

"Well... The good news is that I don't think he did any permanent damage. Somehow."

Finn does spare an annoyed glance back at Seth, who is still sitting with his eyes closed and seeming for all the world to be taking some kind of... Vaguely severe nap.

"Bad news," Finn turns back to Irahl, putting a little direness in his own voice, "You're gonna have to take it easy tomorrow. The whole day off, I'd say. Breakfast in bed. Doctor's orders."

Good call on not bringing more attention to the scales that Irahl is already excruciatingly aware of being visible. Given his choice of career, and the extremely filed-down state of his own claws, all signs point to him not appreciating many compliments on his inhuman features.

It also preserves his agreeable mood. When Finn gives him the 'bad news,' there's a huff under his breath that is almost certainly part of a laugh, even though his expression doesn't change.

"Whole thing was a ploy for a vacation. Think he'll give me a whole weekend or should I stab him again?"

Maybe it's all the drugs, but he thinks he's very funny. This also might be a test to see if Seth is conscious.

Oh boy. Finn had been impressed with how well Irahl was handling the painkillers, but that was before Irahl started using more than just a couple of words at a time. Finn grins suddenly, wide enough to reveal his catlike canines, as he realizes that they may be working better than he'd thought (and also out of a tiny bit of residual fear).

"This guy? If you want a whole two days, you'll have to start breaking bones."

"Wastrels," Seth says, still not opening his eyes.

"But you can't do that until I've patched up your shoulder," Finn warns, dragging his little stool further up towards where he'll be working, "So just sit tight for a little while longer."

He'll sit tight like a good patient, then. Doesn't mean he has to be quiet though, especially now that it has been confirmed that Seth is in fact conscious over there. This amuses him for some reason. (This reason is drugs.)

"Always wanted to stab my boss. Could try breaking bones next time."

Well, that gets a short laugh in agreement from Finn, at least. Who hasn't wanted to stab their boss at least a little?

Seth finally deigns to open his eyes (or finally remembers that his eyes are closed--the drugs, yeah) and look over. He would cross his arms, but one of them is badly injured.

"I've always found it bothersome that the Capitol's chain of command does not allow one to challenges one's superior officers through combat."

Okay, Finn's... Not even going to try to address that one. You two drugged-up fight-boys can go at it while he starts getting some stitches in.

Oh, good. Seth is not only participating but actually agreeing with him. It's a nice feeling after everything he'd put up with over the years back home.

He'll happily chase this distraction while Finn is stitching him up.

"Rather get impaled twice than do a performance review." Am I right?

By the disgusted sound that Seth makes, he agrees.

"Far less painful."

Seth makes a mental note to inform his brother that he has good taste in friends. He probably won't remember it tomorrow, but the thought is there all the same.

Finn can't actually do a ton with that shoulder other than try to stabilize what's there, but he'll do his best. After another round of sutures has closed up the front, he'll have Irahl flip onto his side one more time to to do the back, and then he'll finally have him sit up so that he can apply some bandages to keep as much of Irahl's remaining blood on the inside of his body as possible.

"Okay, that's going to have to do... Let's get you to the kitchen." They start rolling up their things, shoving equipment back in their bag, "...Think you can stand?"

"Kitchen...?" Irahl vaguely asks, though by how mumbled it is, it might be something he doesn't realize is said out loud.

He says only this, and not an answer to Finn's question. That one, they're going to find out together. After a moment of thought, (though it's really a moment to focus in preparation of using his own limbs again,) he very slowly begins to gather himself and ease his way up onto his feet.

There's a long way to go. He's tall.

It's a different experience to being drunk, but it takes just as much concentration to make sure his balance is centered, use all of his senses to tell him how he's doing since his limbs feel weightless and leaden at the same time, and keep his mind sharp.

He doesn't do very well. It takes two tries to build up enough momentum to make it all the way to standing, and the way he stands there--teetering and dead-eyed--seems slightly precarious. He's had a long day, though. Sitting around after all that activity hasn't done him any favors. He'll probably be good after moving around a little bit...

A side-effect of Finn's condition is that he has unusually-quick reflexes. Unfortunately, those reflexes often work much faster than his brain does, so when Irahl teeters just a little further than looks safe, he reaches out to try and steady this giant, shirtless, blood-covered man before the smarter part of him has time to say, 'No, wait, you can't possibly be of any help here'.

One hand on his back and one on his torso, Finn makes a surprised sound as he tries to keep Irahl upright, then suddenly takes his hands back.

"Uh, okay--" Like he's suddenly been faced with a puzzle he wasn't expecting, he starts gesturing at himself instead, "Here, just lean on my shoulder if you feel like you're going to tip over. We're going to the kitchen to get you cleaned up a little."

Irahl also makes a sound of bleary surprise, but that's about the extent of his reaction. He's still remembering his legs. He's sure he'll start feeling like one solid entity again soon, but currently, each limb feels disconnected from both his brain and one another.

Hearing that he needs to be cleaned up does momentarily pull his attention as well, looking down at himself like he can't possibly figure out what Finn might mean. And then he seems vaguely surprised at just how much blood is all over him.

So, he'll nod. Sure. Lead the way.

Finn calls to Seth to just... Stay where he is for a little bit. Seth responds with the barest resemblance of acceptance possible, so he must be fine where he is.

With Irahl so detached from his limbs and his body in such poor shape, what follows is a bit of a blur. He's led slowly into a big, fancy house and into a kitchen to the side, where Finn basically hands him a small pile of damp hand towels, has him sit in a chair, and tells him to just try to mop himself up a little.

Finn disappears and reappears a little later with a shirt... It's a little nicer than what Irahl would usually wear, but at least it resembles casual clothing, and has the benefit of long sleeves. Finn helps wipe up some of the blood on Irahl's hard-to-reach back before there's a brief struggle to get the shirt on.

Then there's some more waiting as Finn drags Seth inside. Seth disappears further into the house, and Finn reappears before Irahl with all of his things (cloak, visor, even the knife) bundled up in a large cloth bag.

The trip home is even fuzzier, as Irahl spends some of it sitting in a carriage with Finn and some of it walking down a sidewalk. Finn manages to get Irahl all the way up to the door of his hotel room without a horrible fall or further injury, which is pretty impressive--but even more impressive is that no one really notices them along the way.

Finn knocks, now keeping one hand on Irahl's back just for stability. They don't have to wait long before a familiar face opens the door.

"Hi, are you..." Finn trails off mid-sentence, struck and a little horrified to see what really does look like a weird, scraggly, pale, but otherwise identical copy of his boss. Finn doesn't really have to finish the sentence, though.

"Holy shit," Vincent exclaims, clearly able to smell all the blood in the air even if he isn't sure where to look, "What happened to you?"

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