paixaorpg | A Fine Mess. [Closed]

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A Fine Mess. [Closed]

Character(s): Ryoma Sakamoto, and whomever wants to run into him~
Content: Ryoma gets shot and then enters the gates. D:
Setting: Muspelheim.
Time: Thursday afternoon.
Warnings: Violence, gunshot wound.

It was raining. The sheets of water spread across the rooftops, falling down, creating makeshift waterfalls off their edges where there were no gutters. The sky was grey and dreary, the clouds concealing the sun. Alongside the sound of the constant, dull roar of the showers, the sound of a pair of geta clopping along the cobblestone streets, working their way through the endless labyrinth of the town. Passage ways were tight, and many establishments had separate buildings for each of their rooms. It was difficult to tell if one was passing through private property or not; but then again, in all honesty, Ryoma had found himself unable to truly care long ago. Land was land, after all.

The samurai made sure to keep beneath awnings, and one gloved hand lifted – positioning his cowboy hat better on his head – to make sure none of the rain got in his hair. His dark-shaded glasses sat on his forehead; only a fool would have worn them on such a dark day. At his side, he clutched the hilt of his sword, and when his other hand returned to its previous position, it in turn rested upon the handle of the gun on his other side.

He felt strangely but uneasily calm today. The wind blew awkwardly through his dreadlocks, shifting them and causing them to stroke his dark cheeks, even as he moved against it on his way. Something was amiss in the city; even his religious support of change left him unsteady. Something was happening. Everyone in the city was uneasy, because everyone knew that too. Ryoma just wondered what it was...

And then it happened. There were loud noises; the townspeople jumped at the sound of unidentifiable sounds, loud and sharp. Ryoma immediately identified them as gunshots; his head turned around quickly, his hat swinging off of his head as he did so, in the wind – though was not lost, as it had been kept attached to his neck by the string strewn through it. Before the hat could fall down to his chest, however – a bullet pierced it, inches away from his heart.

The samurai gasped, and froze in place. The rain beat down on his head and face, and his dark eyes widened at the sight of something very peculiar and unfamiliar – Westerners. Americans, Englishmen? He squinted slowly, turning to face them completely, his head bowed low like a threatened animal, with its hackles raised in the back of its neck.

They seemed to be some sort of bandits. White bandits. Ryoma grunted with disapproval, immediately drawing his sword with one hand, and the other his gun. Moments later, he forced a smile and a pleasant expression on his face – frowns didn’t become him!

However, times like these he had mixed feelings about the westernization of Japan; the other countries over there were getting so much stronger, but they were smart and their weaponry was good. They could not be samurai forever if they really wished to persevere through the change. But Ryoma hated to see the bastardization of the towns, of his home, but...

“Real sorry gentlemen,” Ryoma interjected, sliding his gun out of the holster on his belt, beginning to twirl it around on one finger as he slowly approached the group, “But I’m gonna have to break up this little gittagether real quickly, ‘cause ya see there’s people here tryin’ to go about their business and you’re kinda interferin’ with that.”

They laughed, and insulted him. The samurai sighed dejectedly, reaching up to rub his head somewhat with the hilt of his sword, making a displeased face, as if he didn’t know what to do. Honestly, he was just biding time. But unexpectedly – the sound of a gunshot rang in his ear again. He gasped, feeling a strange white-hot shooting through his entire body. He didn’t know what was going on, what was happening, suddenly – never before had anyone been able to catch him off guard so easily – “Listen here, you damn—”

Ryoma only heard half the sentence. White encompassed his vision. The pain, the feeling of the cold rain on his head was gone, and his clothes felt dry – almost like some healing light had taken over him. He blinked his eyes open – but found they either were already or he simply could not.

Seconds later, he felt cold again, but his clothes were dry. He wasn’t in the city anymore – and fuck, glancing around frantically to find out what had happened, Ryoma discovered he wasn’t even in Japan anymore at all! Had the foreigners shot him...? They must have done something, because as far as he could tell, there were a bunch of them here – wearing western clothing, with blond hair and blue eyes – all of them lined up at some sort of gate that looked nothing like Japan’s usual architecture. Rather, the large gates seemed to be composed of some kind of shiny, yellowy-red metal – looked almost like flames crawling up all around it.

Ryoma was very confused. But he was free, as far as he could tell... so he started to walk to the gate to see what was going on over there. Approaching the back of the line, he holstered his gun and sheathed his sword, after that reaching up and giving a tap to the person in front of him.

“Hey ma’am, ‘scuse me fer intrudin’ but I’m jus’ wond’rin’ what’s this big line here for? And where’s this place?”

The woman turned and blinked at him, and looked very confused and intimidated. Silent, she looked back ahead and did not answer anything. Ryoma sighed and reached up to put his hat back on his head, with fresh bullet hole – before a sharp pain ran through it and his chest. He winced and grunted, letting his arm drop down. Looking at it, he made a face, making note of the blood seeping from a hole I his robe. Well, shit. He needed to get that fixed right quick, didn’t he?

Wasting no time, he carelessly tore off his sleeve, and began to dress the wound as he waited in line, applying pressure to it, holding it in place. When it was finally his turn, he gave a look up at the person at the gate – and grinned wide and stupidly. “Hey there, mister! Mind tellin’ me what this is all for? Y’see, ‘m kinda lost an’—“

“Name?”

“Oh! Uh... y’all can call me Sakamoto Ryoma, the lege—“

“Take this. Next.”

Carelessly, a strange, metallic-y pink object was shoved in his direction. He blinked and took it quickly with his good arm, eyeing it over a moment – before being shoved ahead and through the gate. Quickly, the journal was deposited into his robes as he hurried along.

Well. Ryoma looked around and sighed. “This sure is a fine mess y’got yerself into, Ryoma.” Oh well, what else could he do? The most important thing right now was finding a doctor of some sort to properly take care of his wound and take out the bullet – he could still feel it in him.

Hm, and he wondered idly what that pink thing he got was... maybe he’d futz with it.

OOC NOTE: Thread was abandoned, apparently. Moving on. Isaac and Ryoma went their seperate ways after the hospital visit, obviously.

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It was only a few moments after he had escaped from that silver haired man (http://shed-scarlet.livejournal.com/profile) that Isaac came across someone else, someone different. No, someone very different. Isaac had only known a handful of people in his life and none of them had looked like that before. And since he was never one to conceal his emotions he just stood there for a moment, mouth gaping open, staring at the man, in awe (or something like that, maybe shock?).

Isaac only noticed a minute later that there seemed to be something red on him, "Oh, hehe..." he murmured quietly to himself before extending a lanky, gloved, arm to point in the other's direction. "You're bleeeeeding." he whined at him in an almost erotic manner, his voice somewhere between disgust and delight.

After saying that he just expected the other to run off.

Ryoma paused and blinked, taking in the sight of the man before him. Well. That was certainly something you didn't see every day. These westerners were really peculiar, weren't they? Ah well, at least it was someone! And he seemed to be concerned for his wound. Er, or so he thought...

Blinking, Ryoma smiled lop-sidedly and bowed his head to him, lifting up his good arm and giving a shallow bow as he removed his hat. "Uh... yep. Hey there, ya think ya could direct me to the nearest doctor 'er somethin'? I kinda needa get this bullet here removed 'fore I get all kindsa who knows whats on my arm."

"Hehe..." a weird, creepy, grin slipped up Isaac's cheeks slowly and he incessantly giggled to himself for a long moment. "Can't direct you... Oh no, I can't!" he shook his head back and forth, and then looked behind him briefly then back at the gentleman infront of him. "There're no doctors in hell." he whispered. Isaac wasn't trying to 'pull a funny' on the stranger, he'd been told by the man (http://shed-scarlet.livejournal.com/profile) that this was hell and he had to believe that, what else could he have believed? "I'll help though." he said, those wide white irises licking at foreign coloured skin and attire. Needless to say that he found this bleeding dark-skinned man very attractive -unique was always something that lured in Isaac.

Needless to say, nobody should trust Isaac when it comes to medical practices. Especially when he's got that look in his eyes.

"I can touch your skin, can't I? It looks so..." what was the word? "...different."

"Aw, damn." Ryoma groaned in disappointment, looking back and forth as if a doctor would somehow magically pop up into view because he needed one. Sigh.

He looked back to Isaac then, and quirked a brow. "Hell? Might as well be, it's full of westerners..." That sentance was grumbled under his breath, but his mind wandered to other things... Different? His skin looked different? Ryoma smiled slowly and chuckled hoarsely to himself, shaking his head. "Nothin' wrong with it, just it's natural color. But I hafta say yours is pretty interestin' too. All them tattoos, must've hurt a helluva lot, huh?"

His lips parted in a wide smile, showing a few teeth (which were in pretty good condition considering his lifestyle). "Yes yes... Heehee... Hurted." his eyes didn't settle for a moment, it was as if he was paranoid that someone was going to come up behind him and attack him. "Hurt many times and it bleeded, hehehe... Hehehe!" Isaac wasn't particularly good at concealing his masochistic tendencies, it seemed. But despite being altogether weird and creepy Isaac didn't actually mean this stranger any harm.

He took one step closer, followed by another and reached out a gloved hand to touch the other (even without permission, and with gloves he wouldn't really feel anything, but he still wanted to).

"...interestin'." Ryoma arched a brow at him again. Alright, so he was suddenly not very interested in getting help from this man, at least medically. But he was definately a pretty interesting individual, not even like any of the Americans he'd seen before. He didn't talk quite like an American though. It was a different sort of language. He wondered... hmmm.

Ah well. Looking down, he watched him touch him, and blinked several times. "So, uh, you mind me askin' yer name, partner? 'M Sakamoto Ryoma, you can jis' call me Ryoma 'er whatever if'n ya like."

Leather fingertips smeared the skin as if expecting it to somehow change under pressure,it didn't, at which Isaac was slightly disappointed. It took a while for Ryoma to milk an answer out of Isaac, he was far too busy staring at this oddity infront of him. "I'm called Isaac... You have a strange name." What a hard name to pronounce, so many vowels.

After a moment or two of stroking the other's chest he finally let his arm flop loosely down by his side. He stared directly into Ryoma's eyes for a long second with his pale irises then they darted off again, nervously. "You could die." he said, refering to the wound, even though it probably wasn't fatal Isaac felt obligated to say something.

His expression darkened slightly as Isaac said that last sentance. He was right, actually; as far as Ryoma new, if the wound wasn't properly cared for it could get gangrinous and he'd probably lose it; and who knew where else it would spread to on his body.

Yeugh. Just the thought of that made him cringe. But he smiled again and laughed, shaking his head. "Look, it'll be alright as long as I find me a doctor. Do ya think ya kin help me look?"

"Help?" Isaac wasn't usually the sort to help, it wasn't really in that black ooze he called blood but... He supposed that this guy wasn't too bad, he did let him touch his skin afterall. "Ok. But... Don't know this place very well." He warned the other, his head looking about him lazily trying to spot a man in white robes. That was a doctor, right?

He took a couple of steps forward -his boots clopping on the floor like horses hooves- and turned back to Ryoma as if to say 'come on'.

"S'okay, I dunno where I'm goin' around here either. But a second set'a eyes never hurt, did it?" he said, beginning to move after Isaac on their hunt for a doctor. Unfortunately, Ryoma hadn't the slightested about magic, much less knew the fact that it existed, and so he didn't think to call for a healer on the boards or anything. Hell, he didn't even know what his journal WAS yet.

He always did it the hard way, anyway. Sigh. Heading through the town, they walked, until they actually did find something that was a hospital. It would be up to Isaac to notice it, however, because Ryoma couldn't read any of the Roman letters much less know what a more modern hospital even looked like...

Isaac wasn't exactly th most literate of people in the world, so it was lucky that the clinic they came across had one of those crosses by the sign. "Wait, wait..." he mumbled turning and staring at the jumble of letters for a good few seconds. "Hot... Hos... Hospi..." He got it "Hospital! Look! I found it!" he exclaimed as if expecting some sort of reward.

"You can go in now." he suggested the blindingly obvious and turned to look at Ryoma was a rather stupid grin on his face.

Ryoma lifted his head, and blinked at the place. "...y'sure? I never heard of a hospital lookin' like that before. But then again this is in the west so I guess it'd be mighty differnt," he said aloud, contemplating.

Whatever the case, if Isaac said it was a hospital, it was a hospital. If it wasn't, there might be people inside who could direct him to a doctor. Heading on in, Ryoma found... he had no idea what to do.

Thankfully the occupants of the building did. There were a few gasps here and there - and a troupe of nurses immediately rushed to him, urging him toward some hallway where apparently they planned to fix him up. "H-h-hey there! Waiddaminute, I don't even know what---wait! At least let that guy come with me, he helped me find this place!"

He didn't like watching his new buddy being dragged along a hallway by a group of women, it made him feel uncomfortable and he started to back away. Until he heard Ryoma make some comment about him coming along and Isaac's pale face lit up. He was going too! He was allowed to come too!

With that he went and followed Ryoma, in the back of Isaac's head his conscious was telling him that this was the opportune time to leave and look for his Lord and Master but... But this man wasn't horrible and it'd be good to see that he's okay... Right? And... it probably wont take long...

Rather occupied with rushing Ryoma into a room to take care of his wound, the nurses didn't seem to care about the man's presence.

He found this was all moving too fast for him to really know what was going on. He was moved into a room - all white, and very clean - and sat upon some sort of bedtable, where the nurses then proceeded to remove his makeshift bandage - the sleeve of his robe - to begin cleaning the wound.

Ryoma hissed and shut his eyes, turning his head the other way. He forced one half-way open, though, looking around for Isaac.

He watched from a distance, it wasn't nice to see his new friend in that sort of pain, it hurt him too, in some sort of weird sympathy pain way. And since Isaac's face was very malleable, his emotions were plain to see, and right now it was obvious that he was distressed watching Ryoma watching him. His brow wrinkled and his lips sank into a heavy frown. Why he felt so much for this man was beyond him, since they'd only just met, but Isaac became attached to people very quickly (especially if they didn't push him away when he went to touch them).

What were they doing to make Ryoma make that squeaky, hissy noise? Weren't they meant to help him? Why weren't they helping him?! He began to fidget, fighting the urge to push those idiotic women off of him.

Ryoma forced his eyes open and looked up at Isaac. The pained expression on the other's face purturbed him, wondering why the man he'd just met would be so easily sympathetic. He also forced himself to smile, even if it was difficult to, and he chuckled hoarsely, "Don't worry 'bout me. Their jus' gonna fix me up good."

Things were about to make a turn for the worse, though. They had to get the bullet out. Ryoma had been trying to take his mind off of what was happening to his arm at the moment, but the sudden, sharp pain of things digging into him to try to find the metal caused him to snap his eyes open wide and let out a loud groan. His body tensed, and his free hand clutched the edge of the table tightly, nails digging into it. "Shiiiiiiit."

In that smile Isaac felt a bit of relief, maybe he was feeling better already? Maybe they had finished healing him and he'd stop bleeding now? He told himself, his shoulders began to sink as he relaxed.

But as was almost always the case with Isaac's assumptions, it was misinformed, and that loud noise that came from Ryoma told him this. He jumped and instantly moved his hands to cover his ears, and kept dodging between shuffling close to Ryoma and then moving back because he got a little too near to him.

Ryoma had a hard time concentrating on Isaac's actions, because... well, there was currently a bunch of metal instruments being dug into his arm. It hurt like a mother fuckin' BITCH and the extremely pained expression on his face made that obvious.

The knuckles of the hand that desperately clutched the table where sheer white, and his fingernails were actually beginning to bleed a it from digging in so much. Ryoma squirmed awkwardly, letting out the loudest hiss when the bullet was finally slid out of his arm - and then the pain slowly subsided, and he was left panting.

"There. It's out," one of the women said, dropping it into a tray off to the side, Ryoma looked over and made a slight face, wincing. "Damn. That was a fuckin' big one..."

Once Isaac heard the ting of the bullet hitting the metal tray he felt some relief, maybe that was the thing that was causing Ryoma so much pain was gone now? Maybe that marked the beginning of the end of all of this suffering?

He noted the panic in the air seemed to die down and he began to approach Ryoma slowly, trying to tilt his head at a certain angle so that he could get a better view of what was going on. "Is it better?" he attempted to ask, whilst general hospital noises and talking nurses tried to blanket out Isaac's small tone.

Ryoma was panting, as they began to clean the wound more properly. It was painful again, but it was a lot less more uncomfortable than when they had pulled the bullet out. He still seemed uneasy, but a lot better than before. He forced a smile over at Isaac again and nodded slowly.

''Better to go through the pain now than to get rid of my arm later.'

"And.. uhm... Don't want that." Isaac commented quietly as he watched the women dab and bind his wound. "You can't do lots of things with just one arm." he said, stating the blindingly obvious just to try and make some idly conversation. He was never a big fan of silence, it made him feel like he was about to be scolded.

"I don't like it here... Can we go yet?" he added impatiently.

They were bandaging his arm now. He looked over at Isaac and sighed, but smiled regardless. "We'll git outta here as soon as possible, seein' as I don't like bein' here much m'self. Just let 'em finish bandagin' me up and we'll be all set."

"Say... where y'from anyway? Y'don't seem to be a resident here, everyone else seems t'be blond n'blue eyed. Yer... not."

"No, not from here. From somewhere... Else." he murmured as his eyes drifted off, in thought, maybe. No, this was nothing like Valachia, for starters, this place had daylight. Valachia had been a stranger to sunshine for what felt like all of Isaac's life, if he thought back hard enough he'd realise that in fact there was a time when the sun shined and the rivers looked blue, not black.

He turned to Ryoma and commented quite flatly "But it doesn't matter." He didn't have much desire to go back there, go back to what exactly anyway? To a best friend that wanted to kill him and sleep with his sister? To an empty castle full of creatures that wanted to kill him? No thanks. And... If this really was Hell like Vicious said, then maybe he could find his Lord here.

Ryoma raised a brow. Well then. "I s'posed that much," he said.

Finally, when they were finished dressing his wound, the nurses told Ryoma that he was free to go. He looked over to them with a bright, cheerful expression, and rather eagerly slid off of the bed/table and stood up straight.

The nurses opted to give him a run down on how to properly care for the wound, to which Ryoma actually listened - and when they were finished, sent him on his way. "Welp, looks like 'm done here. Y'ready to git goin'?" he asked, and he was already heading toward the

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A Fine Mess. [Closed]

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