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JANUARY TEST DRIVE MEME
You awaken to godawful static overlaying a female voice that's too monotone to be anything but a recording. The static makes it difficult to understand the warning, but it's clearly a warning if your surroundings tell you anything...
You're buckled into a sturdy seat bolted to the wall behind you. Around you, there are dozens of others like you, some awake and others still unconscious, but it seems most of the seats lining the walls are occupied. The lights are dim, likely auxiliary lighting, leaving you mostly in the dark. You smell smoke and hear the sizzling crackle of electrical systems popping and shorting out. Some of the seats were jarred off the wall, leaving the occupants either wounded or dead. Count yourself lucky all you have is a headache and various aches accounted to whiplash.
You appear to be in a drop ship or an escape vessel of some form but the pilot is dead and the hull bears a massive gash where it buckled under the impact and sheered off. Through the door-sized opening, you can see vegetation. The air that wafts in is heavy with a humid heat, but it's obviously breathable.
Once you make your way outside, you'll see greenery: Trees, grass, and shrubs tangled with vines that grow wildly and suffocate the trees they climb. In the distance, behind the ship, you can make out a sandy desert that seems to stretch on endlessly. Forward through the trees, however, you may see a crumbling wall, but more importantly, you'll see signs of civilisation. Buildings and other structures seem contained within those decrepit walls. Maybe the natives can fill you in on what's going on, because the last thing you remember isn't being in an escape shuttle. As a matter of fact, you don't remember much about your arrival or where you are. But it's going to be a bit of a hike, better get moving. Though you might want to grab the backpack of supplies under your seat before you go.
With that, the power dies, leaving the drop ship in the dark, crackling and groaning as the hull cools from its catastrophic re-entry.
Alex Marsters // OC wereleopard :: H'lo, Poe!
Smoke was finally starting to clear the cabin area, though the smell of burnt wiring, mixed with the metallic scent of blood, nearly overwhelming his senses. He wiped blood from an already healing gash in his forehead, wincing. His next step was getting free of the buckle strapping him in and he fought with it a moment before locating the button and staggering free of the seat. He shifts his weight, moving to take a step around debris and the body of a person that had apparently been a few seats away from him, when his leg nearly gives out and pain jars his senses alive.
Chaos reigned around him, but he forced himself to look down and focus on the shrapnel that was imbedded wholly in his right thigh, passing from one side and clear through to the other. His nostril flared wide and he exhales through his teeth, hissing sharply to keep from screaming or otherwise panicking. He needed to get that out of his leg, but more importantly, he needed to get the fuck off the transport before he was unfortunate enough to have it explode around him. So, face pale and teeth clenched, he hobbled around the debris at his feet, using seats and other broken parts to balance and rest his weight against to ease the strain on his right thigh.
He makes it to the opening, where the side of the ship has been blown away leaving a jagged and risky exit, and spies Poe a short distance off. He doesn't hesitate, not caring that he doesn't know the man, and calls out.
"Hey! Do you mind giving me a hand..." The androgynous young man was quite the sight, silhouetted by the wreckage, his waist length blond hair in tangles and filthy with blood and God knew what else. There was dried blood on his forehead, but no wound that could really be seen, but there was worse.
Sure, he had shrapnel sticking out of his leg, but you see, it wasn't nearly that easy. Alex had specific healing traits as a lycanthrope, and that meant he healed at a ridiculous speed under most circumstances. This wasn't always a great thing, though, and when Poe gets closer he just might realize that the wound going through his leg, jeans shredded around it, isn't bleeding.
In fact... It appears that Alex's leg had already begun to heal around the shrapnel while it was still imbedded in his leg.
o7 hello werekitty
At the shout, Poe instantly turned his head over toward the young man. Finally someone was awake but he didn't appear to be in good shape. The sun reflected off metal that came from a little lower on the other. Metal? The pilot quickly got up from his sitting position and did a half jog over towards him. If metal was sticking out they needed to make sure it didn't hurt anything major. Once he was closer he stopped a few inches away. His eyes immediately scan over the piece of shrapnel that's sticking out of Alex's leg. There's not a lot of blood, nor was there really a trail of blood flowing after him. That was really strange.
There's a look of confusion, he points down toward the shrapnel before glancing up at Alex. "There's no blood." Why is there no blood? How was the other still standing and not seem to be in pain? These should be asked but Poe is still surprised by that fact.
:3
"Thanks... I was worried there might not be anyone in good enough shape to help."
He sees the other man looking him over as he approaches, his gaze settling in the shrapnel in his leg. Alex can practically taste the other man's confusion at what he's seeing. When Poe comments that there's no blood coming from the injury itself Alex nods, expression a bit wry. His jeans were a mess and pretty much shredded on that side of his thigh, but it was true; the wound wasn't bleeding anymore.
"I heal fast... unfortunately there was still shrapnel." Alex shifts, a grimace crossing his features as muscle protests and spasms, skin tightening around the metal on either end of the puncture wound.
"It's gotta come out," he breathes through his teeth, golden eyes watering. "It's going to suck and I have no idea how bad it's going to bleed, but it's gotta come out or the longer I wait I'll continue to heal around it." And it would be even worse when they had to cut it out then. The muscle and tendons hadn't had a chance to heal around it, yet, but they would and then it could possibly cripple him for days while he healed.
"I don't suppose you've got it in you to jerk this thing outta my leg? I can't get a good angle to do it myself."
Please don't make him try to do that on his own, Poe... he'd likely do himself more damage.