Chaotic Anarchy [MM]

[Sullivan (DELETED 11708)]

It’s good to hear Mason join in on the joke. Sullivan grins at her and thinks that as long as she’s laughing with him then she’s probably not thinking about putting that sword through him. It’s also reassuring that he seems to have figured her out just a little bit: Mason responds well to jokes and not so well to criticism or shooting at bears. Although, with the way she had been acting, it’s possible that she was pissed that he scared the bear off and she had one less thing to kill tonight. It does get under his skin that she is willing to hunt people down and kill them with no apparent justification. It’s impossible to know what her reasons are because even if he asks, she might lie or just not answer him. He hasn’t been honest about too much himself, but at least he’s been honest with the fact that he isn’t honest. That’s got to count for something.

Sullivan shrugs his shoulders at his internal musings, timing perfectly with Mason’s question. He follows her hand gesture with a turn of his head, looking back to the abyss. A strange chill chases up his spine as he does and he’s quick to shake it off and look back to Mason. There’s two big eyes looking right back at him; two big blues expecting an answer out of him. He shrugs his shoulders again, his lips scrunching together for as long as it takes for his shoulders to heave up and then fall.

“I could eat,” he says. He kicks at the dirt, pushing a light cloud of dust into the air, then adds, “do you eat, Mason?” It’s then he realises that he sounds a bit creepy and awkward, so back-pedals. “Well, of course you eat. I’m just asking because you’re here. It’s not meant to be like a date or anything. I’m just being nice. And you asked. And I should stop talking.”

Sullivan hums a frustrated note out of his nose and brushes his hand through his hair; tugging on a few strands too. It’s a small unconscious form of punishment. He rubs his neck and looks at the wall to his left. Now he’s really just looking for that hole he was talking about earlier and if it could do him the pleasure of swallowing him up too, that would be swell.

[Mason]

Macy raised an eyebrow at the question of if she ate. Then smiled, well that was a bit of a stupid question wasn't it. And he went on to stumble over his words, obviously she ate, not a date he said, just nice. She waited just a little second or two longer longer after he finished before she actually decided what to say. That was a rather amusing change of pace wasn't it.

"Would you like to go eat, Sullivan?" she asked, still smiling in some amusement, "I'd pay, you did help me out a good bit down there. And you might be surprised just how much money you can get from ears and vials of feral blood."


Her eyes drifted to the outside in thought, "Besides I don't really get to see fellow paladins around much, no matter how they use their powers." she added trying to emphasize that she didn't really care that he didn't use his abilities to do the same things she did, that was not for everyone, in fact it wasn't even why she became a paladin...it just sort of, ended up happening.

[Sullivan (DELETED 11708)]

When Sullivan is uncomfortable in a situation, he leaves. If he isn't physically able to leave, then his mind wanders. Bored of the concrete wall to his left, he looks up. The corrugated iron roof is domed some twenty-five feet above them, like a shanty-town cathedral. There is moonlight threading through large cracks; the edges shine like clusters of ruby from the rust. Looking up out of a dank situation is pretty normal for him, but he can't spend all his time daydreaming. He can feel the eyes on him; he can hear how the air flutters out of her body as the amusement takes her. At least she's amused and not freaked out, which actually works well enough in his favour that he passes her a sideways glance.

“I rarely. If ever. Turn down a free meal,” he says, warming up again.

Sullivan follows her line of sight as Mason looks out past the walls of the abandoned warehouse. The wind teases the weeds and grasses beyond the door and he remembers how they were practically up to his knees when he walked in. It's possible that a bear - or even a worse threat - is lurking in the overgrown green getting ready to ambush them. It is unusual how the thought plays on his mind, but, the adrenaline isn't surging. He feels weirdly calm, as it happens; even his injuries are less bothersome. Sullivan pockets his hands in his jacket and smiles at Mason at long last.

“And you've got a point there,” he adds and starts walking. “I don't see much other than monsters, so it's nice to spend time with something that isn't trying to eat me.”

[Mason]

Macy chuckled at his response to her mention of paying for a meal. Then after a few moments, his response to the mention of finding another paladins and she nodded agreeing, "Heh, yeah no kidding. That's considerably more preferable." she said. In spite of he enthusiasm with killing the undead, she still greatly desired getting to visit with other people around here.

She kept looking out into the area, just trying to discern if it was safe to move. She could force her way through she realized. In another moment she heard a sound, like, a propellor maybe? She wasn't quite sure. And completely unaware that they were just moments away from hearing a crash not far away of a small plane. "You hear that? That a helicopter or a plane?" she asked, which would be only moments before the crash.

[Sullivan (DELETED 11708)]

The sounds of their footsteps are swallowed by the undergrowth as they pass from what’s man-made into nature. Each step forward is like trudging through mud and the long veggie spindles of each grass-like stork feels like they’re grabbing at his ankles. It’s massively against the odds, but Sullivan discovers that after only a couple of steps, he’s worked out a balance between strength and dexterity. Eventually, he’s gliding through the knee-length vegetation and the swampy earth like he’s pacing through the streets. Sullivan also manages to keep a conversation going, hands still in his jacket pocket, as they wade through the field, back to civilisation.

“Do you think vamps have that trouble too?” he asks. “I mean, you don’t really think about what can eat a lion, but there’s probably something that would eat it.”

Sullivan’s thought processes lead on to what he’s seen: zombies, walking skeletons, and these great fleshy goliaths that look they’ve been subject to Frankenstein’s experimentations. Sullivan is keen to mention them to Macy and hear what she has to say, but his train of thought is derailed as the sound of a struggling engine catches his attention. It sounds like it’s coming from behind them, far to the left, and as he arches his neck in its direction, Mason mentions that she hears it too. It suddenly gets closer, and Sullivan can feel the air above them breathe down on them. There are only seconds before the source comes into focus; it darts over their head clumsily like a baby pterodactyl. Its tailwind blows at their backs like a hurricane and Sullivan whips his head around to watch its downward trajectory.

“Plane,” he answers – dumbstruck.

They can only watch as the lightweight aircraft ploughs the field, nose-down. The propeller hits a rock in the undergrowth, shatters, then catapults into the sky. The cabin bows on impact; sending the pilot’s knees into their chest. The tail becomes vertical as the aircraft skids, burying the wings which snap off and fold in like paper. As it slows, the whole thing tips on its side and yawns in defeat. Once the shock wears off, Sullivan makes a dash for the crash site. There’s black smoke bellowing from the engine, but he doesn’t think about being caught in an explosion. He reaches for what he thinks could be a door and gives it an experimental tug. It doesn’t budge. He paces for a moment, eyes searching for the next possible solution until he finds it and then races toward the window of the cockpit. He finds them unconscious; a head of bright orange hair lulls against the side of the door.

“****,” he growls. He looks back for Mason. “Hey, have you ever broken into a plane before? We need to get her out. ASAP.”

The idea of calling for an ambulance, police, firemen, and rescue vehicles is far from his mind. Sullivan discounts their value and prefers to solve things with his own hands – and Mason’s, if she is willing.

[Mason]

Macy was fairly careful on the ground, she knew vampires had a preference for hiding before attacking if they wanted to feed. Though against two paladins, she doubted they'd stand a great chance unless they were one of the more powerful ones, of which there certainly were plenty, just not so often roaming around.

She furrowed her brow with a hum as he asked if she thought vampires had the same issue, "You know that's a good question. I mean, I know there are other things around. Like the Mooncalves and some things I saw in the Maw and the caverns, but I'm not really sure I know of anything that actually goes after vampires for food. Well, blood thieves do but that's a different deal. I don't think they always force it. Or even need it for that matter." she answered the question, "Something to think on though."

Then, sure enough a plane came rolling overhead. Her eyes widened, instantly she knew they had to take action, they both rushed to the scene and she looked around in thought, she didn't see anyone else. When he asked if she'd ever broken into a plane before she shook her head, "No, but surely it breaks just as much as anything else. Here." she leaned over pulling out her sword out, "Move back." she doubted the woman was facing them. She looked to be sure he wasn't behind her and reached the blade back slamming the hilt against the window as hard as she could, she knew these things were strong and didn't intend on having it bounce back on her.

Thank goodness the glass broke, though some of it was still way too in the way, like it was sticky. "Come on," she said using her elbow to shove open the rest which irritatingly seemed to stick to the rest, just enough to reach in and open it up from the inside and leaping back so the door would open with her gesturing for Sullivan to move in quickly while she sheathed her sword looking around just in case, by instinct mostly. She didn't know how to handle injuries but at least if they could get her out they could decide from there.

[Sullivan (DELETED 11708)]

Mason manages to break the glass of the cockpit enough so that they can pull the body out. The best he can do is treat this like a car crash and hope to treat any injuries the best they can. Together, they keep her neck and back as straight as possible and carry her a few metres away from the crash site, where the wilds are more tamed. The grass is only up to their ankles as they lay her down carefully, Sullivan makes sure he’s cradling her legs and the bottom of her spine. There’s every chance that she could have received some serious injury in the crash, but just from looking at her, you wouldn't’t think she’d been in any kind of accident. The only evidence is a slight gash on her forehead; the thin layer of blood causes her orange hair to stick to her moonlit face. She’s unconscious, but breathing, and her heart has a steady, healthy rhythm.

“I think she might actually be ok,” Sullivan says breathlessly. “What a lucky girl.”

[Mason]

Macy knelt down trying to think, where would she have gotten injured, she seemed to be at least immediately alright. So...if there was anything it must have been internal, there didn't seem to be anything stuck in her. She looked at the gash on her head in thought, "Yeah, really could have been a lot worse." she said letting out a breath before furrowing her brow.

"Do you think she could have...a brain injury? I mean if it was bad enough to knock her out surely it caused at least a concussion. Unless she went unconscious before she started crashing." She half asked moving at an angle to try and get a better look at it. It really wasn't all that bad you could get it from just turning around too quickly into a pole or something. But still, she was unconscious. Which on it's own might not seem horrible, but given that meant there was something going on that happened to make it this way, it did still concern her.

[Storyteller]

==========AUTOMATED RANDOM EVENTS SYSTEM==========

A sharp scream pierces the night and, just as abruptly, stops.

[Sullivan (DELETED 11708)]

Sullivan hasn’t even considered the possibility of brain trauma before Mason mentions it and now it’s all he can think about. His expressions turn; brows tight and lips pursed as if he’s sucked on a lemon. The chicken and egg scenario plays out in his head: what came first, the crash or the unconscious survivor? They wouldn’t be getting their answer from just standing around either way. Sullivan sits back and watches as Mason checks the woman over for signs of injury or anything else; he doesn’t quite understand what they can do for her. His hands rest on his knees, palms to the sky like he’s silently asking for a sign. As always, nobody hears his unspoken plea.

“She needs to be in a hospital. Just in case,” he says; quietly and through gritted teeth.

The last place he wants to be is anywhere near a hospital, but this isn’t about what he wants. Sullivan is on his feet again and about to reveal his decision to Mason when he’s stopped by a sharp, wailing sound. It is the kind of scream that makes your blood run cold; it pierces the brain and ignites some primeval pathway that instantly puts him on edge. Adrenaline surges through his veins again, making his heart feel like it is pumping in his throat. It is that time again: fight or flight, stand or run, be a hero or a coward. Only, he can’t quite tell where that scream came from or if it is even human. There’s something about it that strikes him as being both odd and familiar; surreal and not altogether feeble. The sound wasn’t like what you’d expect from someone calling for help; it had a raw quality, the realness of a person consumed by a pain that knew no end or limit. It is all too quiet then - no echo, as Sullivan quickly notices. He shoots Mason a look of concern.

“Any clue?” he asks; his voice is a whisper on the wind.

There are fables of spirits, Banshees, whose mourning wails warns of the impending death of someone near. Sullivan has never put too much stock in fairytales before, but, now he looks to the woman on the floor with increasing concern. He doesn’t waste any further time. He quickly dips down and takes her in his arms; her head perching on his shoulder as her legs loll over the flank of his forearm. He gives Mason another look, this time prompting her to react. He hopes she can lead the way and provide any protection should they need it.

“D’you know where the nearest hospital is?” he asks. “Can you lead?”