BACKDATED April 12th 2013

[antinouswild]

Who: Anyone who was on or around the baseball field on the 12th
When: April 12th, 2 hours before sirens
Where: The Baseball Field
Summary: Enjolras' canon update after his in game death at the HoA trip to the core, he returns with the wounds he recieved after being shot by the firing squad after the baricade was taken.
Warnings: Talk of death, description of wounds, discussion of suicide and preferring to being allowed to die rather than being saved.


There was an explosion and sensation of ripping, a flash of light and then... darkness.

The next thing he was aware of, he was standing upright, and there was a rough, callused hand in his. He smelled blood and gunpowder and rain on the pavement. It burned his nose, but it's familiarity was sweet. He opened his eyes and saw the firing squad before him. No fear in him, just a sense that he was back where he belonged, and this was good and right. He looked over his shoulder at Grantaire, and smiled.


Another explosion of gunpowder.

The bullets tore him again and all was black once more. Somehow, he wasn't sure how, he lost a hold of Grantaire's hand and he groped for it in the darkness. He fell backwards, and he felt his shoulders and the back of his head strike the ground. There was just enough consciousness left in him to realize that this was wrong. There had been a wall behind him, but now he smelled earth and grass.

While he could not move, he struggled to open his eyes again, to gain some vision of what had happened. The light was too bright at first, but he fought to find focus. After a moment it became all to clear.

He was in the baseball diamond. This was Siren's Port again.

He had died twice and had not escaped hell.

He screamed, and the world went black again.

Comments

[paysdelamour]

When Francis arrived, the first thing he did was rush towards his bleeding comrade, only to be stopped by some guards. He tried to remain calm, tried to remember all that Michael had taught him about his powers - and so he began talking. It really didn't matter what he had said, only that the intent behind his words was to be a complete stranger to these people, and that the man on the ground was also a complete stranger. France only hoped that was enough to keep them from sounding the alarm, that they didn't have any Voids on the premises. Luckily it was enough, and they let him through.

But the peril did not stop there. He saw the gunshot wounds up close and knew that if Michael didn't get there soon, Enjolras was not going to make it - even though checking on his pulse seemed to indicate that his dear citizen was still alive. He quickly pulled up his sleeves, remembering every medical trick from his time on the battlefield to keep Enjolras from completely bleeding out. But without actual medical supplies, there was not much France could do until Michael got there.

When he heard Michael's voice, France's head shot up to look at him - and instantly he burst into tears again. He tried to remain calm, but it was no use. His own breathing was shallow, fluttered and shaky, though his hands were busy applying pressure to the few places he could, without causing any more serious injuries.

Francis finally turned back to his citizen, looking at his face, so pale and lifeless that it almost made France sob anew. He couldn't lose Enjolras, not again. He quietly began to speak, in their native French. "Enjolras, if you can hear me, we'll move you as soon as you're stabilized."

He then brushed his face against his upper sleeve to get rid of the tears, still keeping pressure on the few wounds that would benefit from it, and looked up at Michael. "What else can I do?"

[antinouswild]

Consciousness does not return as Francis comes to Enjolras. But, he does stir as he is moved and spoken to. His lips part and he sighs, even if his eyes stay closed.

His fingers curl and he shifts his hand, as if he's feeling for something. He finds Francois' other hand, the one without the communicator. Grantaire had been there, just a moment before. He'd had a hand in his. When he finds Francois' he wraps his fingers around it.

Seemingly satisfied, the tension in his face relaxes. He seems suddenly peaceful, content, as his body relaxes, becoming even more limp in Francois' arms.

His head rolls, striking his nation's chest. His pulse and breath are still there, faded but still measurable. But, he does not stir again.

[magnetic_magpie]

He has to move quickly, and doing so without alerting the guards. Bullets shouldn't be removed, not yet - the help clots form at this stage - and so any there he leaves, holds in place, coaxes red blood cells to knot up, even while snapping on gloves and applying clot powder and combat bandages, Israeli bandages, and he wouldn't even attempt to hide the pride he had in the first place he called home developing bandages that would save so many lives.

He pulled out a vacuum split and starting setting it up. "We're going to move him onto this, ok? Then we'll get the oxygen on him - there's just not enough hands right now." By protect of his powers was O₃ creation - and that rapidly broke down to 0₂, making the air around him a little richer in oxygen. Since the boy was breathing on his own, he'd need help but for right now it could wait.

The splint started out almost like a basic air mattress - but once Enjolras was on it, and Magneto flipped it to set, it drained the air out, forming a stiff and rigid cast around his back and sides, leaving the front of him open.