thebastion | [Day 204] there's nothing more important to me [open]

[Day 204] there's nothing more important to me [open]

Who: Flowers, anyone

Open: Open

When: 204

Where: Just barely outside the Bastion, on the Skyway

What: Hard work and positive thinking sometimes isn’t quite enough when you’re dropped into an entirely new world

Format: Any

Warnings: Non-graphic wounds

The first thing that he was aware of, was overwhelming pressure, and the reptilian part of his brain screaming to get up get up you’re going to be crushed, get up.

With a ragged gasp, Flowers’ eyes flew open, just in time to read static from his visor, and for his brain to fully process the gravity of the situation he was in. It was a punch to his nerves, quite literally given the sheer amount of debris still stacked upon him, and he couldn’t help the pained noise that slipped between his clenched teeth, or the hiss that followed it as he worked his way out of the remains of what had previously been Blue base’s wall.

What was going on?

It was a question he had to consider, more than consider when he had the chance, but for the time being, he busied himself with fumbling with the seals to his helmet, sighing in relief as the pressure seals gave way with a hiss, and fresh air and bright light flooded his senses.

Another breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth, that was it, good, good. He cracked a faint smile, nose wrinkling after a moment. Yes, okay, things were much different than he remembered, that was undoubtedly a bad thing, but that didn’t have to be the end of the world. He just had to soldier on, keep a positive attitude, and-

Alright no, his limbs felt like lead, and despite the fact that he knew it was a poor idea, he let himself carefully slump to the ground, sighing heavily. A moment, he promised himself, just a moment to sit and regain his bearings; after all, he had been through much worse before.

True, he had no memories of ever waking up in a radically different environment sporting a rather nasty headache and a new hole in his shoulder (usually any of the three were accompanied by a lot of yelling and people running about, so he supposed the quiet was rather nice), so there was that to take in. Also the fact that his shoulder was starting to ache something fierce; that was probably more pertinent than figuring anything out quite yet.

Thankfully it seemed that his field kit was still somewhat intact, and though the biofoam burned like fire through his veins, its discomfort was an assurance that he at least had a little more time before he would have to pay attention to the wound. Which brought him back full circle: where was he?

A cursory glance around revealed nothing, which was frustrating, but he was determined to put a positive spin on things. At the very least, at least no one was shooting anymore? That was certainly good, yes; but as time wore on, he was more and more certain that he was just exhausted.

Closing his eyes for a moment couldn’t hurt, could it?

Of course it could.

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Zuko is finding it difficult to sit still or relax after the stress of the past few days. It's hard to settle down with past experience insisting that one crisis often follows another, even when none has presented itself (yet). She may only have the energy for a brief Skyway trip, but she's making it just to give herself something to do.

Of course, it looks like her trip may be even shorter than she thought. Spotting the unfamiliar rubble not far from the Bastion, and the figure slumped nearby, she swiftly turns to head in that direction. She glances around for signs of anyone or anything else as she approaches, but so far as she can tell, it's only the one man with his unfamiliar armor.

Is he unconscious?

"Hey. Can you hear me?"

If he opens his eyes, he'll find a young woman standing at a cautious distance. She isn't dressed like a soldier, but she has some of the bearing of one, and there appears to be a sword sheathed across her back.

Perhaps ‘a moment’ had accidentally stretched into a bit longer than he had planned, because it took a moment for Flowers to register the sound of a voice ringing in his ears. A slight frown graced his lips, because really now, he should have at least been paying enough attention to hear someone approach; apparently he was getting a bit lazy, that wouldn’t do at all. It seemed that drills would be have to be in his near future, once he sorted out this whole mess; it wouldn’t do to slack off, after all!

But that was neither then, nor now, and it was certainly something that he pushed out of mind as he cracked his eyes open, blinking a bit to adjust to the light. The sight before him was just as much a conundrum as anything that he had been able to work out previously, and while he trained his gaze before him, trying to pick out any signs of any potential dangers to himself, he managed to crack what he hoped was a friendly smile.

With a bit of effort, he managed to get his good hand beneath him, and pushed himself up a bit more, making an effort to appear a bit more presentable, despite how disheveled he felt. “Why hello there, pardon my manners, it seems that I’ve gone and forgotten my sense of hospitality.”

The words were light, conversational, as if he wasn’t currently wounded and entirely unsure of where he even was, or if he was in any immediate danger from the woman before him. It was certainly a strange sight, he had to admit to himself, to see anyone without regulation armor. He shifted again, subtly moving his hand to rub at a bit of dirt that had collected near the armor plating at his shoulder, conveniently near his ka-bar.

Well there was no harm in being a bit cautious.

“Terribly sorry about that, I think I’m a bit out of sorts today,” he continued, with a good-natured laugh.

Zuko doesn't notice the weapon he's trying to keep within reach, though even if she did, he hardly seems like any kind of threat in the condition he's in. She doesn't make any effort to look friendly herself--maybe that's something she should work on, but it just doesn't occur to her. At the least there's nothing threatening about her body language. She crouches down not far in front of him, trying to look him over.

"I don't think you need to be worried about manners right now," she states flatly. "How badly are you injured?"

He clearly doesn't have a grasp of his situation yet, so it's hard to tell if his casual remarks are just part of his usual personality or if he's suffering from some kind of head injury. If he can't move enough to walk even with support, then she might have to go back to the Bastion for help.

It took all of his concentration to keep his fingers still as the young woman approached, eyes trained onto each and every movement she made, still trying to deduce if there was any immediate threat to his wellbeing. The unknown factors in the entire situation were just too jarring to ignore, and injured or not, he wasn’t keen on sitting by idly if things were to take a nasty turn.

Old habits died hard, it seemed.

Thankfully, it seemed that his suspicions were unfounded, and while he was still concerned about the fact that he was being addressed by an unknown civilian figure, and the fact that his outpost seemed to have radically changed in whatever amount of time had passed since he had been unconscious, it was perhaps more pressing to deal with the then and there, and leave any major questions for after he (hopefully) was patched up.

He made a slight chastising noise in the back of his throat, brows furrowed together in an attempt to look stern, but it was ruined by the small grin still playing across his lips. “I was always told that manners were quite important; do unto others, y’hear me?”

The actual question, however, gave him pause. How badly? The incessant ache in his limbs and the pounding in his head was certainly not quite pleasant, not to mention the epicenter of dulled pain that was the hole in his shoulder. Even after all the scrapes that he had been through, it was still always surprising how much getting shot actually hurt. The fact that he was still even shocked at that was a bit sad.

“I’ve had worse,” he chirped back, doing his best to remain conversational as he shifted his weight, trying to use his good hand to push himself up, “but that isn’t to discount the actual severity of the situation. If I may be so bold, and I am sorry for that, might I trouble you to know if there’s somewhere I can get this looked at?”

His hand drifted from near his weapon, to vaguely gesture to the neat hole punched in his shoulder plate. “I apologize for the straightforwardness, but time is of the essence.”

Not knowing what saying he's refering to with 'do unto others,' Zuko just squints at him for the remark. She hears him, but she does not get it. Right now it isn't important, though.

Looking at the hole, she guesses that it's a bullet wound. She doesn't have much experience with them to know how bad a shoulder wound would be, but she knows guns in general can be powerful weapons.

She doesn't so much as bat an eye at his 'straightforwardness.' It still strikes her as an excess of manners for the situation. "The Bastion isn't far from here. They'll be able to tend to it there."

She holds out a hand for him to take with his good arm. "...I know you probably have no idea what's going on, but that can come later. If you can lean on me, I'll get you there."

Bastion? The name in question provoked a brow raise and a multitude of questions that he held back for the time being. The name wasn’t familiar, hadn’t been brought up in any case files or reports that he had been given, and it didn’t follow standard protocol for naming, which left the option of it being a civilian encampment, but as far as he had been briefed, Blood Gulch should have been too remote to ever run the risk of impeding on any non-military settlements.

He mulled the information over in his head as she offered her hand, filing it away for future contemplation. There would hopefully be time to get answers, but that could only come about if he made sure to not expire before he had the chance to ask. It would be most unfortunate if he had to deal with the whole ‘death’ process again; he wasn’t quite enthused to have to repeat it.

“You’ve hit the nail on the head,” he chuckled, though the tone was a bit forced and laced with discomfort as he shifted to accept the help. The more he moved, the more he was reminded that things had been a bit rough before his wake-up call out here. Very rough, actually, and as he thought it over more and more, concern swelled in his chest. “Ah, but you wouldn’t have happened to see anyone else about, would you have, dear? I’m afraid I’ve gone and lost track of them with all of this nonsense I’ve gotten myself into.”

Zuko is strong for her size, but there's nothing superhuman here, so here's hoping he contributes some of his remaining strength so she doesn't have to haul him all the way up on her own.

She's quick to correct that 'dear' with a sharp look and, "My name is Zuko." She doesn't need long to consider his actual question either. "I haven't seen anyone with armor like yours, no. You're nowhere near whatever battle you were in, and you're not likely to find anyone here."

It's probably best, for the moment, to leave out the part where he's not likely to find them because they're all probably dead. He's been calm enough so far, but if he reacts badly to that, then it's just going to make getting him to the hospital difficult. She'd been recovering from wounds of her own when she arrived, and forcing herself to rest had been the hardest thing.

Flowers took a moment to shoot a glance over at his discarded helmet, weighing the option of moving his arm versus leaving it next to the ruins of the base; in the end, the memories of recovery missions and the grave warning about abandoning technology overpowered his instinct for self-preservation. There was a low grunt of pain as the fingers of his free hand loosely closed around the edge, hauling the thing up with him as he managed to work his way up to his feet, thankful for the assistance that she had provided.

Her words, however, were problematic in more ways than one, and it cements the growing suspicion and concern in the back of his mind. Outwardly, he merely bowed his head slightly, a concession and apology to his apparent affront, “so sorry, I should have certainly remembered introductions first. Flowers, Butch Flowers, but you can call me ‘cappy’ if you’d like.”

Bastion…he thought back to the name, twisting it about in his head to see if he could make heads or tails of anything, falling quiet for a few seconds as he thought. No, he still couldn’t make any connections, and that in itself was dangerous. “Hm. I may have to be a bother and trouble you, or someone, for a radio then, when we get to this…Bastion, was it? I’m afraid mine is a little out of commission, and there are a few loose ends I need to clean up, the sooner the better.”

Zuko reaches to take the helmet from him if he'll let her. She should have grabbed it for him in the first place, but it's just such a strange piece of armor. She hasn't worn her own in a long time either.

And what kind of name is 'Butch Flowers'?

"There's a... radio tower at the Bastion now." It may be apparent from the way she says it that she quite frankly has no idea what a radio is or does, which may be troubling in its own way. She's only heard the word in reference to the tower some of the others brought back, the same time they brought back the plague. In light of the latter problem, she hasn't thought to ask about what they were trying to accomplish in the first place.

She shifts to try to provide as much support as she can. "Come on. It's not far."

Though Zuko’s act was almost certainly entirely innocent and well-intentioned, Flowers shifted slightly, keeping the helmet just out of reach, despite the sharper lancets of pain that were burning down his arm. Too many years on the field had ingrained the need to keep his things, the project’s secrets, safe, and if he was going the extra mile to drag the helm from the wreckage, then he was going to do everything in his power to keep it with him.

“I’ve got it, thank you though.” The words were still warm, despite the previous slight opposition. The news of a tower is excellent though, and it brings a bright smile right back to his face. Hopefully it was standard issue, he had never been too good at trying to adjust frequencies on things that were cobbled together, it just wasn’t his area of expertise.

Doing his best to put as little burden on his rescuer as possible, he let himself be moved, trying to give her as little difficulty as possible. “Lead away, I am just tickled to see this place you’ve mentioned.”

Zuko doesn't fight him for it, though it does make her frown. Not to be trusted, even for little things and with sensible reasons, still stings sometimes. Even in her refugee days, she never would have stolen anything as useless to her as a mismatched and probably oversized helmet. But this guy doesn't know her.

"I wouldn't get too excited," she says, though to be honest, the Bastion's grown on her. If it weren't for the circumstances that brought her here, she might even say she liked it.

It doesn't take long to reach the Bastion's entrance, even at their slow pace. And the view from there... will probably only add to his confusion. The mismatched buildings, the strange animals wandering about, the people with no uniform appearance or mode of dress. They don't look like they all belong on the same planet, much less the same village.

Realizing his folly, Flowers shot an apologetic look towards his rescuer, but neglected to offer any explanation for his behavior. Unfortunately, it was trade secret, and even if he felt a bit bad for his rudeness, there was little he could do to explain his need to remain vigilant. Classified information was a hassle at times.

“Ah, but if you can’t get excited, then life gets boring, right?” He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head slightly. “Everything is a new adventure, and I only wish that I didn’t have things that need attending to so that I could take time to properly appreciate this settlement of yours.”

That was the plan, at least. Get treatment for his wounds, find the radio, hack the signal, radio the director, and make his way back to his outpost as quickly as possible. There would be time to figure things out and make proper safety protocols to prevent this sort of happenstance in the future, once he was certain that his mission hadn’t been compromised.

Or rather, that had been the plan until a line of buildings came into his vision. The sight before him certainly gave him pause, the sheer hodge-podge of everything silencing his incessant chatter. This was abnormal, even by colony standards, and hinted at something far more complicated taking place than anything he previously could have considered.

“This is…Bastion, you said?” The question was still conversational, but a bit more distracted than his previously enthusiastic lines of inquiry. He hummed under his breath, then continued on, testing the waters. “It’s…interesting you can’t see the Halo from here, one would think that something that large would be visible from anywhere on the planet’s surface.”

"If there's one thing my life hasn't been, it's boring," Zuko mutters, knowing he can hear her but not really directing the remark to him.

She scans the Bastion briefly herself; it's hard to say which things are going to seem normal and which utterly bizzare to a newcomer, but she'd bet their resident giant dragon falls under 'alarming' for most people. She doesn't see him from here, though.

"I don't know what your 'Halo' is. When I said you were far from your battlefield, I meant far. This isn't your world. It isn't mine either."

“Perhaps then, when the threat of injury is not waylaying any productivity as it is now, you and I need to have a long conversation, because I do think it will be rather enlightening.” Despite the casual tone, it wasn’t a suggestion, but rather a thinly veiled demand. Every small snippet of information that he was being fed painted his current situation as something that would need to be discussed thoroughly, with no small detail left unattended.

How did he get off -world to begin with, was perhaps a good thing to start with. Followed by where his crew was, and if the technology he was supposed to be guarding was safe.

What had been a dull pain in his shoulder, however, had graduated to a harsh, throbbing fire that very nearly threatened to render him speechless as the biofoam began to wear off, and there was little chance of gathering any sort of answers to his questions if he was so distracted. The discomfort was growing more and more evident in his expression, though he strove to project a pleasant demeanor, it was becoming far too much effort to maintain that almost unnatural level of cheer. “You mentioned something earlier about tending? Would it be rude of me to ask if that was still something in the cards?”

Zuko understands that it isn't a request or a 'maybe.' She'd been far less patient when she showed up. "You'll get your explanation, I promise." If not from her, then certainly from someone else. It might be better from someone else; she isn't good at breaking things gently.

"The hospital's just past the onsen." Which may not be the strangest zoning decision, but probably not a sentence he would normally hear. "Not much farther."

And it's probably lucky for him that he arrived today and not during any of the past few days, when their healers would have had their hands full with the plague. The sick haven't fully recovered yet, but they need a lot less attention now, she's sure. Everyone in general is a lot less stressed out.

Generally speaking, there are a few things that healers are pleased to see after dealing with plague victims for a few days. Cups of tea and their own bed are often at the top of that list. People badly wounded enough to need someone else to help them walk on the other hand, are rarely a particularly pleasing sight.

It is for precisely this reason that upon noticing the two when they walk through the hospital's doors, his expression briefly flickers to 'Seriously?' before shoving that under a look of professional concern.

"...Would you prefer my assistance walking to the nearest exam room, or shall I just lead you there?"

It was good to hear an agreement, because Flowers had every intention of following up on his promise. The quicker he could take tabs of his situation, the quicker he could work to fix things up and get back. As much as he would have loved to scout about a bit more, his priorities were elsewhere, and he couldn’t be derelict in the duties assigned to him.

Brows furrowed in slight confusion, but he kept quiet, focus still stolen by the increasing realization that the biofoam, and thus the painkillers, was wearing off and that his shoulder hurt a hell of a lot more than he had originally thought. What was an Onsen? It wasn’t a word that he recognized, and it didn’t sound to be Sangheili in origin either. Something native to her language, perhaps? Definitely another question to be asked later.

Thankfully the hospital was much closer than expected, and he sighed in relief as they passed the threshold. Mumbling a quiet thanks to Zuko, he forced a tired grin to his face as a new voice cut through the air.

“Oh hello there,” he managed to inject some of his previous cheer into his words even if it was far more artificial, “I think that is perhaps a question for this one, but regardless of it’s source, I would appreciate some sort of help, I think.”

Zuko has a different word for it herself, but 'onsen' seems to be the one more commonly understood by everyone here, including those who never had a word for it before. But the translation effect and its shortcomings can definitely wait.

"I've got him," Zuko says with some amount of unnecessary stubbornness. Ghaleon is a newer face, and she doesn't know him. Still, a little help wouldn't be so bad, especially since it feels like Flowers has been leaning on her a bit more--whether he actually is or she's just getting tired, she's not sure.

"...but a closer room is better," she adds. She can handle this a little farther, and anyway she won't be much use after that.

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[Day 204] there's nothing more important to me [open]

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