24 Sep 2021, 04:56
Fists Are Preferred Over Words
Devoid of any semblance of energy, Jack seemed like a looming ball of hopelessness that was resigned to his fate. An unfortunate, but understandable approach. Eliseo was sure the boy’s mind was likely plagued by his actions. Depending on the fate of the other boy, it could be a mistake that would follow Jack as an unavoidable spector. Eliseo saw no point in pressing the boy or offering any further words of attempted guidance. He had said his peace and the boy was now left to the wills of others. But at the very least, there seemed to be at least a faint inkling of regret in the boy’s continued silence. But it could have just been hopeful thinking on the part of the Groundskeeper.
As Zoë beckoned the man over, Eliseo peered down at Jack a final time. “Good luck boy,” he grumbled before trotting over to help the woman. As Zoë began lifting the boy, Eliseo quickly stepped in to help her out. Up close, the damage was far more severe than he had initially expected. Jack hadn’t just beat the boy, he had mauled him and within an inch of his life, it seemed. An impressive display of one-sided fighting but heinous nonetheless. For a moment, Eliseo wondered if he would have at least smacked the other boy in the side of the head so there was at least some damage taken but he doubted that would have been seen as an acceptable form of punishment for him to dispense. “I got him, Zoë,” Eliseo said softly as the woman passed him the boy.
Keeping the boy’s body parallel to the ground, Eliseo did what he could to limit the amount of rattling Mathias would need to endure while he carried him but there would be only so much he could do. He wished for a moment that they had done something to stabilize the neck more but he knew any longer out in the forest would only push the child further into dangerous territory. Eliseo tended to be a reckless person but never with the lives of others so he knew he would need to move quickly to find their illustrious school nurse.
Eliseo could hear some of the nerves and anxiety in Zoë’s voice as she continued to rattle off instructions for him in transporting the boy. Giving the woman a slight smile he nodded his understanding. “Don’t worry. I'll get him there safe and...mostly in one piece. You did your part, I will do mine,” he assured the woman. For a moment, he glanced over to the devastated-looking girl that had beckoned them with her banshee-like cries. It was clear that the boy meant something to her but Eliseo had a difficult time keeping up with the endless romances and relations of the many young students.
“Come on little one.” He gestured to Winnie to follow with a tilt of his head. “The lad should have someone familiar at his side...for those final moments.” It was a dark joke, delivered with a grimly straight and serious face. Offering no more words, Eliseo turned carefully towards the direction of the castle, planning the best route in his mind as he started walking. After a few steps, Eliseo would begin quietly humming a sober tune while making sure to keep an eye on the occasional rise and fall of the boy’s labored breathing. Things looked dire, but Eliseo wouldn’t let it cloud his judgment. His job was to get the boy to safety as quickly as possible without adding to the injuries. Every few steps, Eliseo told himself that the boy would make it. For the sake of all the children, he hoped he was right.
Action: Waddling out of the topic to take the pulverized flesh of Mathias to the Hospital Wing
24 Sep 2021, 19:50
Fists Are Preferred Over Words
His chest hurt, it felt as if a weight was on his ribs preventing him from taking a full breath. There was this dire sense of panic, the sort an animal feels in the presence of impending doom. His broken ribs would part with each desperate attempt at a breath of air. He wanted to describe where he was hurt but his brain was in a fog, he was in too much pain, there was not enough wind in him to get the words out.
The burden of breath was getting greater.
As Zoë attempted to lift him, she would likely note how thin the boy was. Thinner than she would have expected. Perhaps he grew tall before he filled out, like most teens in their awkward, lanky years with limbs too long and thin. A worrisome combination, as if they were not being fed enough when in truth it was just the natural act of growing faster than they could fill. Yet, she could perhaps be thankful because she was capable of lifting him up, even if only barely. Mathias let out a gurling, pained noise as he felt his bones shift and grate, his muscles tear and his already pierced lung fill with blood.
Mathias would be transferred into Eliseo's care. The boy was damp with sweat, Zoë's arms would feel cool as the boy was relinquished. Her hands were sticky from his blood, she looked like the monster that had broken the youth rather than his savior as she wiped the blood off on her skirt, leaving rough, wide streaks of crimson on what was once a lovely frock.
Mathias was entrusted to Eliseo's care. The boy was not capable of protesting, not that he would as his small world revolved around his breathing and nothing more. The groundskeeper might notice something off about the boy as he carried him off. He was well-dressed. Unusually well dressed even if what he wore was gharrish even by Céspedes not particularly fashionable standards. A button down shirt in a starchy cloth, it was new. Dress pants that were freshly pleated. A tie, at summer camp. A suit jacket, all in bright obsentatious colors -- call back. Why would any teenage boy want to be seen in public like this?
Not really Eliseo's problem, interest or concern.
During the journey back to the castle, Mathias would turn grey and lose consciousness. He would have tried to say something but he lacked the wind to communicate his desperate air hunger. An attempt to clear his throat would not revive Mathias a second time. There was too much blood in his lung, compressing his lung and his heart.
It would be an emergency for Kelsey to attend to. The sort that required a bloody, emergent decompression. This would have been one of those nightmare images that demonstrated the nurses' surgical proficiency. Mathias would obviously survive, love or the what not kept him safe.
The burden of breath was getting greater.
As Zoë attempted to lift him, she would likely note how thin the boy was. Thinner than she would have expected. Perhaps he grew tall before he filled out, like most teens in their awkward, lanky years with limbs too long and thin. A worrisome combination, as if they were not being fed enough when in truth it was just the natural act of growing faster than they could fill. Yet, she could perhaps be thankful because she was capable of lifting him up, even if only barely. Mathias let out a gurling, pained noise as he felt his bones shift and grate, his muscles tear and his already pierced lung fill with blood.
Mathias would be transferred into Eliseo's care. The boy was damp with sweat, Zoë's arms would feel cool as the boy was relinquished. Her hands were sticky from his blood, she looked like the monster that had broken the youth rather than his savior as she wiped the blood off on her skirt, leaving rough, wide streaks of crimson on what was once a lovely frock.
Mathias was entrusted to Eliseo's care. The boy was not capable of protesting, not that he would as his small world revolved around his breathing and nothing more. The groundskeeper might notice something off about the boy as he carried him off. He was well-dressed. Unusually well dressed even if what he wore was gharrish even by Céspedes not particularly fashionable standards. A button down shirt in a starchy cloth, it was new. Dress pants that were freshly pleated. A tie, at summer camp. A suit jacket, all in bright obsentatious colors -- call back. Why would any teenage boy want to be seen in public like this?
Not really Eliseo's problem, interest or concern.
During the journey back to the castle, Mathias would turn grey and lose consciousness. He would have tried to say something but he lacked the wind to communicate his desperate air hunger. An attempt to clear his throat would not revive Mathias a second time. There was too much blood in his lung, compressing his lung and his heart.
It would be an emergency for Kelsey to attend to. The sort that required a bloody, emergent decompression. This would have been one of those nightmare images that demonstrated the nurses' surgical proficiency. Mathias would obviously survive, love or the what not kept him safe.
Topic Left. Leaving Zoë to yell at Jack.
Event NPC