ｔｈｅｒｅ'ｓ ａ ｂａｄ ｍｏｏｎ ｏｎ ｔｈｅ ｒｉｓｅ

[exastris_scientia]

t e r r o r must be maintained.

a mirrorverse open post





1. pick a character and tag them in the subject line.
2. post pictures, starters, whatevs
3. profit!

Comments

[skippedthatcourse]

[Lorne is already working, barking orders into the radio and ordering personnel around to clear their route of prying eyes. It's good to keep busy because who knows, he might actually change his mind. It's ridiculous that right now, he is saving John Sheppard's life, no matter how good the reasons.

They make it to his quarters without any altercation and there's one very big advantage. They will never suspect Sheppard here. They'd tear down the entire city before even considering checking this room, he know. Evan won't even have to stand watch.]

There we go. Let's patch you up some more.

[puddlejumped]

[ Sheppard marvels, in his half-dazed and nearly dead state at how effortlessly he multitasks, and clears the way for their progress to Lorne's quarters. Even as they make good progress, John's steps are slowing, and his weight is less obviously held up by his own feet. His breathing is heavy and ragged.

Thankfully, they get to the other man's quarters, he groans as he's sat down, and let's go of where he's applying pressure to the wound himself, to undo his tac vest. It clatters to the floor, and he makes a choked back sound of pain as he reapplies the pressure. ]

Your room was a good idea.

[skippedthatcourse]

I don't do bad ideas.

[Evan's face scrunches up into a disapproving frown when Sheppard starts bleeding all over his sheets. Not much he can do about it now. The frown deepens when he gets a first good look at the severity of the wound.]

That's gonna be a bitch. I can patch you up but without a doctor you gotta do a big part of the surviving thing yourself.

[Somehow he's not concerned. Sheppard's not the type to die in a nice cozy bed after his wound has been treated. That'd be too embarrassing for all parties involved, really.]

[puddlejumped]

I've noticed.

[ He'd apologize about the bedsheets, but he really doesn't give a shit right then. It's pretty damn bad, and in a perfect world he'd need to go see a doctor. He doesn't much care for that particular option, not when he knows Beckett's reputation as well. ]

Do it. I'll survive. I left the dying in bed to my father. Heart attack, what a waste.

[ Might have liked to do it himself, actually. ]