Nightfall listens to Terri as he packs his things, nodding.
"So... are we going to case the house? See if we can find this mystery book? If the Ear wants it, it seems likely he'll be back to look for it..."
Unless that's what Terri wasn't saying.
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Presence
Striking Looks
GoodwillNightfall listens to Terri as he packs his things, nodding.
"So... are we going to case the house? See if we can find this mystery book? If the Ear wants it, it seems likely he'll be back to look for it..."
Unless that's what Terri wasn't saying.
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Bleeding from the ears...shit, there was nothing he could do about that. Not with a first aid kit. But he couldn't tell Al that. "I'll do what I can for him, Al. Why don't...why don't you go inside, see if there's anything Terri could use your help with in there?"
His gaze flickered between Terri and Nightfall. Hopefully one, or both of them, got the message. Get Al out of here before he had to watch the Ear Wig die.
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Terri looks to Rick and then Nightfall then the house.
"Yeah, the book could be here still," she says before turning to Al. "Hey, Al, wanna take part in a treasure hunt?" she adds with a smile.
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OOC
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Presence
Striking Looks
GoodwillSomewhat relieved for something to do to get away from the tension outside, Nightfall heads inside. He lets some of the children's laughter he's collected as a mime ring in his ears and wash over him, blessing his endeavors. With a chance to make up for killing the Scribe, he puts everything he has into his search, but the argument outside continues to distract his thoughts.
1 suxx :P
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Al-Adin, still worrying about the dying ear-whig, can't put his heart into the search effort, and instead merely tags along with Terri. Before he leaves, he grabs the black rods from the area, and heads back inside.
Don't worry, Rick will take care of him. You did good Al-Adin. Focus on helping Terri. She did a good job with that slingshot didn't she?
Al-Adin nods, and talks to terri as they hunt. "You were really really cool with that slingshot!" He says, picking up his thrown rods as he moves about.
no roll
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Terri leads Al into the house, following a way behind Nightfall. Looking around and she could feel the beginnings of a headache forming, which always occured when she was forced to use her smarts rather than when she reacted to things. Not having much luck on the book front, she turns to look at her fellow Beast when he spoke.
"Thanks, you were great with the rods too. Sure as sure you were. If it wasn't for you, I bet that Lego-man would've done some serious damage to me upstairs."
Converging with Nightfall in the foyer, she glances to him with a shrug. Finally, they both notice something about the body of Scribe, more importantly, the exposed part of his neck. It seems that there are various glyphs carved into his skin.
Just like NF...
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Rick sighed as Al left the room, and ear shot, before glancing at the Ear Wig. "He's bleeding from the ears, there's nothing I can do to save him with just a first aid kit." A pause, "Don't tell Al."
His attention returned to Faith as he opened the kit and began sorting through its contents. "Now hold still."
Approximately four minutes later he was satisfied with is work and leaned back away from her. "Feel better?"
Dr. Rick...well, kinda
As Rick starts to take an assessment of her exact injuries, Faith hisses in his ear, "I swear, if you so much as f**king try to cop a feel, I'll *gah*!". That last being the sound she makes as Rick applies just a liiiiittle too much pressure on a freshly-forming bruise. Probably unintentionally. Surely unintentionally. Right? "Son of a bitch," she half-gasps, half-hisses as he continues working. Whether it's directed at him or at the air is anyone's guess. Surprisingly, she doesn't string together the profanities after that while he does his thing.
At his question, she answers, simply, "Better, I think." Without asking, she reaches out and starts to grab onto his arm for support. Then pulls her arm back all of a sudden as soon as it makes contact. "F**king static," she grunts. She tries again, and this time hoists herself up to her feet, putting more weight on Rick than her pride would like allow her to admit.
Finally up, she stands, wobbly as all get-out. But still, she's up, right? "Bad news is, I'm still swimming through f**king molasses. Good news is, I'm not wearing cement shoes doing it." And of course this would be the perfect place for a string of profanities obscene to curl every carton of milk for two miles. So the Flamesiren does what she thinks is best; she looks at the ground, and mumbles a quiet, "Thanks." Finally, she looks around at the corpses strewn about.
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