[ it's not bleeding as much as before, but the pressure coming off means it's bleeding with renewed purpose. not exactly ideal, but it's not gushing? that's something. david spits on the sheet and bundles it around his fingers to start wiping up what he can, clearing up as much blood — dried and otherwise — as he can. ]
[ he winces at the touch of the tar to the open wound, still raw and tender, but he pinches the skin to help it adhere. which david super would not recommend, doesn't feel great, does make his vision blur around the edges for a second. ]
[ speaking of bad ideas though. seeing the way it doesn't fully seal the wound makes something else occur to him. ]
[ the pine tar will hold for long enough, he figures, even if he can see blood oozing through in slow trickles. here, it's always long enough, unless the entity decides that now is the time for david to get a reprieve.
evan smears another layer of it over the wound as david holds it closed and puts the cork back in the bottle. ]
Probably. [ the answer is yes, but ... ] Should be fine as long as you don't jump in the campfire.
[ besides that, it catching fire might be a good thing if it cauterizes the wound. he probably should have suggested that first, but david was the one looking for glue. ]
[ evan isn't following his train of thought, which does make david briefly wonder if he's just gone insane from fatigue and blood loss, but it doesn't seem like that extreme a jump to him. he has no idea when he's gonna get called up next, sometimes it's fucking forever between trials and he wouldn't at all be surprised if this was one of those times. cauterizing the wound makes it less likely to reopen any time soon. ]
Torch it. [ wait-- that's not the right word. ] Cauterize it.
[ oh, well ... if he's actually looking for that, then why not?
evan gives him a brief appraising look, then turns to the furnace that doubles as a forge. there's not much in there right now, and the coals are glowing dully, but it doesn't take long to get them burning again with a few pumps from a cracking set of bellows and stirring them with a slim piece of iron, the latter of which he leaves in for a time.
this isn't particularly sterile, either, but it's probably better than the pine tar alone.
once he figures the iron's hot enough, he pulls it out and turns to david. ]
Hold on.
[ because this always hurts other people. (hard for it to hurt him anymore.) once he's reasonably certain david's not about to run, he uses the glowing tip of the iron to seal up the wound, or at least make it harder to bleed. ]
[ maybe he has gone insane. david gives that thought some consideration as he watches evan at the forge, plants his hands on the table to pull himself up to sit on it with a quiet noise of complaint, but at least if he passes out up here he's less likely to fall and crack his head on a table and fucking die that way. which would be both embarrassing and a waste of everyone's time. ]
[ the thing of it is, just about anything to do with pine is pretty flammable. david expected it to hurt a lot, sure, but the combination of the red hot iron and the igniting pine tar is a profoundly intense shock to the system that takes a moment to even register as the explosive pain it is. david grabs at evan, not to make him stop but just for something to hold on to, grip tight and fingers digging in hard. his voice catches in his throat, the strain obvious in the popping veins, he sure wouldn't mind screaming right about now but it doesn't happen. ]
[ so basically just an extremely bad time, even if it's thankfully quite short. ]
[ the second that burst of agony is passed, david's whole body sags. heavy, shaking breaths, body trembling. still holding on to evan as he lets his head fall forward and waits for his vision to clear. ]
[ he can tell david's holding back pain - a lot of it. it's almost impressive how much he's not screaming when it's clear that's all he wants to do. evan can hear it even in the silence.
out of respect for managing it, he says nothing, just pulls the iron back and tosses it back in the coals. the wound isn't in great shape, and now the tar is burned into parts of david's skin, but once the next trial starts it won't matter.
he lets david hold onto him. the grip doesn't hurt and in any case, there's not much else to grab except the table. it won't last forever, but for now, there's no argument. ]
[ what comes out of him the second any noise can is a breathless laugh, bordering just on the edge of hysterical. his skin is throbbing-- pulsing almost, but pain he can handle. it's a significantly smaller problem than bleeding out of a gut wound. ]
[ he's still holding on to evan — one hand on a bicep, the other on a shoulder — but his grip loosens a little. not that it seems like evan cares that much about it. ]
[ david takes the bottle with a nod and immediately tips back a large mouthful, his other hand staying where it is on evan's arm. cauterizing a wound hurts, he knows that, but the shock of having something literally ignite in said wound is something he could do with never feeling again. ]
[ evan makes a good point though. the thought of ghost face struggling because nobody will support him makes a grim smirk tug at his lips along with a breath of a laugh. ]
Wonder if he even survived this long. [ another deep drink. probably ill-advised all things considered, but it sure is doing wonders for the pain. ] That was a lot of blood.
[ especially here, especially killers. a killing blow needs to be a killing blow, in evan's experience; killers don't often bleed to death. ghost face is probably out there, choking on his own blood, dragging his almost-a-corpse toward whatever place will give him safety. there's not many these days.
but dead - probably not. which means that he's probably letting a fresh grudge against david grow. ]
If you killed him, he'll probably be worse about it than if you didn't. Just watch your back.
[ david snorts, unsurprised and unbothered. at least it'll take the heat off some of the others for a bit. ]
Gonna go badly for him. [ he shrugs, lets his hand slip from evan's arm to hook his fingers under the side of his waders to tug him a little closer. there's more interesting things here than ghost face, not that that's a high bar for david. ] In't much to hold over me and now I know for certain he's easier to beat than some people.
[ they both know david's not exactly the smartest or most sensible where his health is concerned — even though he knows better, he has a pretty fucking bad habit of thinking of himself as indestructible. like he can grin and bear anything if he just grits his teeth hard enough — so it probably shouldn't be a surprise that evan's comment falls on deaf ears. ]
Yeah. [ he shrugs a shoulder. ] And?
[ attractive, right. the pain in, well, just about everywhere has been turned down to a dull throb-- save the one obvious spot, a bright orange on a grey backdrop, but even that's better than what it was before. he's exhausted for several different reasons, noticeably slowing down, and yet david is completely convinced he'd be fine. ]
You don't want to?
[ he looks up at evan, squints at his mask in confusion. how could that possibly be a turn off? ]
[ it's blood loss, he thinks, and some of the wine - probably not much, though - and the leftover high of beating a deserving killer into pulp, that's leading david to make another bad decision. trespassing, getting into a fight with an armed killer, calling evan out to keep him from dying, wanting to cauterize an open wound slick with pine tar ...
not that evan's totally disinterested, but he can tell when things will just end up worse than they started. ]
Not when I know you'll probably be dead before I finish.
[ though he doesn't back up, still watching david, a little more amused than annoyed. ]
[ david considers arguing because he'd be fine — he can handle it, he can handle anything — but that's a pretty definitive no, and evan's not exactly one to budge. moreover though david's just got too much pride to argue about whether or not he can handle getting fucked by someone he's not convinced even knows his name. even if arguing would be ego more than anything too, it'd come across desperate and david would honestly rather die. ]
There's a way I haven't died yet.
[ he's teasing, obvious in the small smirk and the pull of his brows, fingers still hooked in the side of evan's waders even if he's not pulling him closer anymore. maybe it's the everything of the situation but this is kind of nice; calming in a way that offsets the tremor in his hands and the throbbing in his gut. ]
[ evan snorts in response, not stepping back yet, his attention more on the wound than david's face again. it doesn't look great. the tar going first was a bad idea. but it won't get much worse, probably, although it'd be one hell of a fuck you from the entity if this was the one time things did.
it can do whatever it wants. it's just lucky for everyone - including himself - that it doesn't have the focus to be that level of petty. at least, that he knows of.
instead, for the moment, he chooses to ignore the little signs that david's on the edge of fading out and picks up the newly-stolen knife. there's still blood on it. ]
How'd you get this away from him after he stuck you?
[ david puts the bottle down, tilts his head, halfway to falling asleep. the tiredness is catching up with him fast now that he's not surging with adrenaline and nothing needs his immediate attention. his head snaps up when evan asks the question, wide-eyed for a split second while his brain catches up. ]
I, uh. I grabbed his wrist to try keepin' him close.
[ this soon after, it's still pretty fresh in his memory. he vividly remembers the way he was barely aware of the feeling of being stabbed, the sharp pang of pain after he grabbed ghost face's wrist and he tried to twist the knife in response. ]
Managed to get me to loosen up but not enough he could take it with him, I guess.
[ it's easy to imagine, although ghost face doesn't like losing his weapons. david must have nearly broken his wrist to get him to let go of the knife. the adrenaline of trying to survive is a dangerous thing, and at this point he would have assumed the idiot would know that.
but he does love to underestimate survivors. he only stopped doing that to killers after several unpleasant encounters, or at least he stopped doing it to evan after that.
it's such a small knife compared to the machetes and cleavers evan's used to, but he knows what it's meant for: hunting. killing, swiftly and precisely. there are things that can be done with a small knife that a bigger, ostensibly more dangerous one can't approach. ]
Figure I'll keep it, then. [ he can feel david wavering against him. either death or unconsciousness. maybe one then the other. he's not totally sure yet. ] Old man used to say a small knife for a small mind.
[ it slips out without him even realizing it, but when he does, the silence that drops in is almost freezing. ]
[ the knife looks so small in evan's hand, though david couldn't say if that's because of the size of his hands or just because he's used to seeing him carrying bigger weapons — a little of both, probably — and he watches evan handle it with tired eyes. ]
[ until the slip about his dad. david pauses, recognizing the significance, but he's quiet for a little too long to make it seem natural when he responds. brain a little too slow reasoning out how to reply. it's not that he has no interest in any of this, so much as david unfortunately has some measure of respect for evan and his intense refusal to acknowledge his dad beyond the fact that he definitely existed at some point. he's never pushed david on his own issues really, so. he'll leave it alone. ]
Guess we've got a matching pair of that bellend's knives then. [ he makes an amused noise at the realisation. ] He's havin' a rough go of it, eh?
[ david's quiet. too quiet. the rage starts to boil - at himself, for fucking up, for letting the past seep in, and at david, for being there and hearing it and knowing. part of him is ready to grab a cleaver and split david's skull for that alone, even if letting him sit there and bleed to death internally might be a faster option.
but before he can unfreeze into explosive, violent actions, david speaks, and almost defuses the situation completely by ignoring the comment and trying to redirect it back to ghost face. evan doesn't believe for a second that david was so exhausted and lightheaded from blood loss that he didn't hear the comment, but maybe he'll forget about it thanks to those instead.
it's the best he can hope for. ]
Yeah. [ two knives gone. but there's always more. ] He comes after you for this one, tell him you left it in her workshop.
[ his voice is too calm, too careful, to suggest he's not bothered by his fuckup. ]
[ well as far as he's concerned, david doesn't owe him any more consideration than what he's just shown. he tilts his head, considering what to do now, ignoring the way evan still seems primed to snap at the slightest provocation. ]
Yeah-- yeah. Course.
[ he puts his hands down to slip off the table. not going to get any less woozy or injured sitting here. nor does it look like evan's gonna calm down any time soon. david doesn't really know what to do with that, or about it, and that bugs him a little. but he's too fucking tired and woozy to spend any real time thinking about it. ]
[ evan steps back when david lets go and moves to slip off the table. he doesn't try to keep him there, or argue with him, or suggest he's going to pass out and die from blood loss in the next five minutes. it's probably for the best if he leaves. evan's never been good at managing his anger. there was never a reason. everybody encouraged it.
someone's encouraging it now, in the back of his head.
he stares at the furnace as david moves to leave. ]
Yeah.
[ that's about all he can manage, still in that extremely calm, flat tone. he's not outwardly threatening, not reaching for a weapon other than the knife in his hand, which he'd probably be able to use but not in any particularly noteworthy way. it's not his, either. he doesn't want to use it.
but the rage is crawling through him. he's struggling with who to blame for it, because the right answer - himself - doesn't want to stick. ]
[ david lands on unsteady feet with a shock of pain through his middle, grabs the table and takes a second to stabilise himself. it's gonna be rough getting back to camp, if he even manages it. just hopes he gets pulled to trial sooner rather than later. ]
[ he glances up at evan, watching him watch the furnace. it doesn't feel great, the idea of just leaving him here like this, but what's he gonna do? hover around until this gut wound finally kills him? ]
[ doesn't really help that evan's anger is alluring to him in a way he refuses to think about, but david's also never seen it like this before and that's fascinating to him in a whole other kind of way. ]
Hey. [ david leans up so he can plant a quick kiss on the cheek of evan's mask, something about the gesture seeming stupid and funny. maybe enough so to cut through the tension a little. ] Thanks.
[ he notes what david's doing - everything he's doing, from the drop to the wince to the way he looks at him to the quick kiss that, against the mask, is barely more than a slight pressure. under other circumstances, like if he was just pissed off about ghost face or adriana or trespassing in general, it might have distracted him. annoyed him or made him snort out something resembling a laugh.
under the circumstances he himself created, he doesn't move. barely even acknowledges the thanks with a grunt. the world outside his head is fading out already as the anger sears through his veins.
when david leaves, if he takes his time to avoid the traps and worsening his injury, he'll eventually hear the sounds of smashing metal and cracking wood, but no voices. no roar of anger or even a string of swears. just destruction that ends almost too abruptly. ]
[ what david does is make it maybe two feet out of the workshop before he realises he's got nothing left and sits against a wall to pass out. he figures evan will be to preoccupied to find him out here, either die or get called to trial before evan leaves the workshop for anything. ]
[ it means he hears the crashing, the weirdly sanitized tantrum. a confusing lullaby for him to fall asleep to out in the cool, damp mineshaft. part of him wishing he could do something about this, another part of him deeply annoyed both by the fact that it's happening and that there's nothing to be done. ]
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[ he winces at the touch of the tar to the open wound, still raw and tender, but he pinches the skin to help it adhere. which david super would not recommend, doesn't feel great, does make his vision blur around the edges for a second. ]
[ speaking of bad ideas though. seeing the way it doesn't fully seal the wound makes something else occur to him. ]
This shit flammable?
no subject
evan smears another layer of it over the wound as david holds it closed and puts the cork back in the bottle. ]
Probably. [ the answer is yes, but ... ] Should be fine as long as you don't jump in the campfire.
[ besides that, it catching fire might be a good thing if it cauterizes the wound. he probably should have suggested that first, but david was the one looking for glue. ]
Keep it dry and it'll harden eventually.
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Torch it. [ wait-- that's not the right word. ] Cauterize it.
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evan gives him a brief appraising look, then turns to the furnace that doubles as a forge. there's not much in there right now, and the coals are glowing dully, but it doesn't take long to get them burning again with a few pumps from a cracking set of bellows and stirring them with a slim piece of iron, the latter of which he leaves in for a time.
this isn't particularly sterile, either, but it's probably better than the pine tar alone.
once he figures the iron's hot enough, he pulls it out and turns to david. ]
Hold on.
[ because this always hurts other people. (hard for it to hurt him anymore.) once he's reasonably certain david's not about to run, he uses the glowing tip of the iron to seal up the wound, or at least make it harder to bleed. ]
no subject
[ the thing of it is, just about anything to do with pine is pretty flammable. david expected it to hurt a lot, sure, but the combination of the red hot iron and the igniting pine tar is a profoundly intense shock to the system that takes a moment to even register as the explosive pain it is. david grabs at evan, not to make him stop but just for something to hold on to, grip tight and fingers digging in hard. his voice catches in his throat, the strain obvious in the popping veins, he sure wouldn't mind screaming right about now but it doesn't happen. ]
[ so basically just an extremely bad time, even if it's thankfully quite short. ]
[ the second that burst of agony is passed, david's whole body sags. heavy, shaking breaths, body trembling. still holding on to evan as he lets his head fall forward and waits for his vision to clear. ]
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out of respect for managing it, he says nothing, just pulls the iron back and tosses it back in the coals. the wound isn't in great shape, and now the tar is burned into parts of david's skin, but once the next trial starts it won't matter.
he lets david hold onto him. the grip doesn't hurt and in any case, there's not much else to grab except the table. it won't last forever, but for now, there's no argument. ]
Stopped bleeding.
[ for now. ]
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[ he's still holding on to evan — one hand on a bicep, the other on a shoulder — but his grip loosens a little. not that it seems like evan cares that much about it. ]
Fuck-- fuckin' hell.
[ what a day!! ]
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he finds where david set the wine on the other side of the workbench and offers it to him. ]
It'll pass. [ probably, but then again, that also doesn't really matter here. ] Imagine the state he's in right now.
[ ghost face bleeding and struggling through the darkness because nobody will help him. it's always improved evan's mood. ]
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[ evan makes a good point though. the thought of ghost face struggling because nobody will support him makes a grim smirk tug at his lips along with a breath of a laugh. ]
Wonder if he even survived this long. [ another deep drink. probably ill-advised all things considered, but it sure is doing wonders for the pain. ] That was a lot of blood.
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[ especially here, especially killers. a killing blow needs to be a killing blow, in evan's experience; killers don't often bleed to death. ghost face is probably out there, choking on his own blood, dragging his almost-a-corpse toward whatever place will give him safety. there's not many these days.
but dead - probably not. which means that he's probably letting a fresh grudge against david grow. ]
If you killed him, he'll probably be worse about it than if you didn't. Just watch your back.
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Gonna go badly for him. [ he shrugs, lets his hand slip from evan's arm to hook his fingers under the side of his waders to tug him a little closer. there's more interesting things here than ghost face, not that that's a high bar for david. ] In't much to hold over me and now I know for certain he's easier to beat than some people.
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Should've been obvious from the start.
[ but causing doubt and fear and paranoia is what ghost face is all about, right up to the killing.
he watches david, not entirely certain the combination of pain, fading adrenaline, and alcohol was a great choice to bring down here. ]
You're half bleeding to death.
[ if he didn't notice. ]
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Yeah. [ he shrugs a shoulder. ] And?
[ attractive, right. the pain in, well, just about everywhere has been turned down to a dull throb-- save the one obvious spot, a bright orange on a grey backdrop, but even that's better than what it was before. he's exhausted for several different reasons, noticeably slowing down, and yet david is completely convinced he'd be fine. ]
You don't want to?
[ he looks up at evan, squints at his mask in confusion. how could that possibly be a turn off? ]
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not that evan's totally disinterested, but he can tell when things will just end up worse than they started. ]
Not when I know you'll probably be dead before I finish.
[ though he doesn't back up, still watching david, a little more amused than annoyed. ]
Fix that shit up first and we'll talk.
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There's a way I haven't died yet.
[ he's teasing, obvious in the small smirk and the pull of his brows, fingers still hooked in the side of evan's waders even if he's not pulling him closer anymore. maybe it's the everything of the situation but this is kind of nice; calming in a way that offsets the tremor in his hands and the throbbing in his gut. ]
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it can do whatever it wants. it's just lucky for everyone - including himself - that it doesn't have the focus to be that level of petty. at least, that he knows of.
instead, for the moment, he chooses to ignore the little signs that david's on the edge of fading out and picks up the newly-stolen knife. there's still blood on it. ]
How'd you get this away from him after he stuck you?
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I, uh. I grabbed his wrist to try keepin' him close.
[ this soon after, it's still pretty fresh in his memory. he vividly remembers the way he was barely aware of the feeling of being stabbed, the sharp pang of pain after he grabbed ghost face's wrist and he tried to twist the knife in response. ]
Managed to get me to loosen up but not enough he could take it with him, I guess.
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but he does love to underestimate survivors. he only stopped doing that to killers after several unpleasant encounters, or at least he stopped doing it to evan after that.
it's such a small knife compared to the machetes and cleavers evan's used to, but he knows what it's meant for: hunting. killing, swiftly and precisely. there are things that can be done with a small knife that a bigger, ostensibly more dangerous one can't approach. ]
Figure I'll keep it, then. [ he can feel david wavering against him. either death or unconsciousness. maybe one then the other. he's not totally sure yet. ] Old man used to say a small knife for a small mind.
[ it slips out without him even realizing it, but when he does, the silence that drops in is almost freezing. ]
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[ until the slip about his dad. david pauses, recognizing the significance, but he's quiet for a little too long to make it seem natural when he responds. brain a little too slow reasoning out how to reply. it's not that he has no interest in any of this, so much as david unfortunately has some measure of respect for evan and his intense refusal to acknowledge his dad beyond the fact that he definitely existed at some point. he's never pushed david on his own issues really, so. he'll leave it alone. ]
Guess we've got a matching pair of that bellend's knives then. [ he makes an amused noise at the realisation. ] He's havin' a rough go of it, eh?
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but before he can unfreeze into explosive, violent actions, david speaks, and almost defuses the situation completely by ignoring the comment and trying to redirect it back to ghost face. evan doesn't believe for a second that david was so exhausted and lightheaded from blood loss that he didn't hear the comment, but maybe he'll forget about it thanks to those instead.
it's the best he can hope for. ]
Yeah. [ two knives gone. but there's always more. ] He comes after you for this one, tell him you left it in her workshop.
[ his voice is too calm, too careful, to suggest he's not bothered by his fuckup. ]
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Yeah-- yeah. Course.
[ he puts his hands down to slip off the table. not going to get any less woozy or injured sitting here. nor does it look like evan's gonna calm down any time soon. david doesn't really know what to do with that, or about it, and that bugs him a little. but he's too fucking tired and woozy to spend any real time thinking about it. ]
I'm, uh. [ hm. ] I should go.
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someone's encouraging it now, in the back of his head.
he stares at the furnace as david moves to leave. ]
Yeah.
[ that's about all he can manage, still in that extremely calm, flat tone. he's not outwardly threatening, not reaching for a weapon other than the knife in his hand, which he'd probably be able to use but not in any particularly noteworthy way. it's not his, either. he doesn't want to use it.
but the rage is crawling through him. he's struggling with who to blame for it, because the right answer - himself - doesn't want to stick. ]
no subject
[ he glances up at evan, watching him watch the furnace. it doesn't feel great, the idea of just leaving him here like this, but what's he gonna do? hover around until this gut wound finally kills him? ]
[ doesn't really help that evan's anger is alluring to him in a way he refuses to think about, but david's also never seen it like this before and that's fascinating to him in a whole other kind of way. ]
Hey. [ david leans up so he can plant a quick kiss on the cheek of evan's mask, something about the gesture seeming stupid and funny. maybe enough so to cut through the tension a little. ] Thanks.
no subject
under the circumstances he himself created, he doesn't move. barely even acknowledges the thanks with a grunt. the world outside his head is fading out already as the anger sears through his veins.
when david leaves, if he takes his time to avoid the traps and worsening his injury, he'll eventually hear the sounds of smashing metal and cracking wood, but no voices. no roar of anger or even a string of swears. just destruction that ends almost too abruptly. ]
🎀?
[ it means he hears the crashing, the weirdly sanitized tantrum. a confusing lullaby for him to fall asleep to out in the cool, damp mineshaft. part of him wishing he could do something about this, another part of him deeply annoyed both by the fact that it's happening and that there's nothing to be done. ]