Stranded (rated M for possible adult themes)
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September 9th, 2012, 12:22 AM
Lean Mean Roleplaying Machine
Join Date: Feb 2012
As Vincent had reached the camp, the others had completely disappeared. Even Ace was gone from his spot at the campfire, which would explain why he didn’t come to their rescue when he felt their presences. Vincent frowned a little, unhappy with his Pokémon simply up and leaving, against his orders, but right now, he had more important things to take care of. He groaned in frustration as he could find neither bandages, nor disinfectant in any of the bags and packs found in the tent.
He hurried outside again, looking around for some sort of miracle, starting to get a little desperate. He was ready to rush back to the others to help Victoria to the beach, but almost tripped over himself as he found, right next to the shelter, a small medical box with a large, red cross at the front. At first, he thought he was seeing things, but he quickly got to his knees next to it and opened it, widening his eyes as it was at least half full of first-aid for both humans and Pokémon.
He quickly grabbed a bottle of disinfectant, a rag, a little bit of water, and some bandages before getting up with a bit of a stumble, and then dashing off towards the jungle again, going straight towards where the others had been last he saw them.
After a short while of running, he came to a halt and was happy to find both the new guy who hadn’t introduced himself yet, and Kelsey. “I’ve got it! Hold on, don’t move her!” He hurried over and leaned down next to her and Damion, reaching out for Victoria’s shirt, where the wound had gotten to be. “I’m… going to have to rip your shirt a little, Victoria. Sorry.” He glanced up at Damion and gave him a little nod. “Keep her steady.”
He gave the shirt a little rip, making it easier for him to get to the wound, making sure not to tear it up too much, as he poured the disinfectant on the rag he was carrying, glancing up at Victoria again. “This is going to sting…” He lowered the small bottle of water he’d found and poured it onto the wound, washing away the blood. It was quite a deep gash. He then lowered the cloth and very gently dabbed it against the wound, doing so another few times.
After being satisfied, he lowered the rag and took the roll of bandage, placing it against her side before unfurling it, letting it trail around her stomach and back, wrapping up the wound one wind at a time. He sighed softly, closing his eyes, trying to get his rapidly thumping heart under control. He was worried for Victoria, and for the others who were now crowded around them. While wrapping her up, he spoke out to the others, but didn’t remove his eyes from his work.
“We found water. There’s a large lake with a little waterfall about ten minutes of walk back there.” He nodded backwards with his head. “If you want anything to drink, you’re going to need to take at –least- two Pokémon with you, in case the Vigoroths attack again.” He finally finished the roll of bandage, her wound now neatly covered in white strips, as he tied it off with a knot and sat back on his haunches, breathing out heavily, looking up at her. “Can you stand? We need to get you back to the shelter.” He glanced to Damion, as if to silently ask him to support her, though he knew from what he’d seen that Damion wouldn’t need to be asked to help her out.
When does a man die?
When he is hit by a bullet? No.
When he suffers a disease? No.
When he eats a soup made out of a poisonous mushroom? No!
A man dies when he is forgotten.
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