A Marsh Guest

[themorbidsocialite]

Bugsby's Marshes were home to a wide and varied array of micro- and macroorganisms, the biodiversity one of its most notable features. Yes, a great many of the creatures were incredibly dangerous, but wasn't every environment filled with such risk? Surely, all one had to do to avoid assault was avoid bothering the various animals. Surely.

This was how the Morbid Socialite- Mori- found himself in the depths of the marshes, gathering samples of water, plant life, lichen, and insects to start his research. He was too busy marking notes on a variety of mushroom to notice the eyes on him. The thoughtful hum to themselves and the squeaking of tall boots, worn to avoid staining the hems of their trousers, were enough to hide the sound of something treading through the muck. They only noticed the disturbance when the bugs they'd been surrounded by had scattered. He turned and his eyes widened, finding a second pair staring into his.

"Oh, bloody 'ell."

Screaming echoed across the marsh, likely reaching at least someone's ears.

Comments

[the_soft_hearted_maven]

Meanwhile, the Brash Devil was doing some monster hunting. It had been awhile; after certain events, part of him had been avoiding it.

But he couldn't stay away forever.

So he picked up a simple job from the Department of Menace Eradication and set out to get his feet wet again. Figuratively and literally, given the marshy landscape.

Maven was staying at the cottage. Today had been a particularly busy day, and they both needed a bit of quiet. (that's also why certain other roommates of theirs would be staying out late, gambling or whatever it was he did out at the docks) So she was preparing dinner while he finished this hunt.

At least that was the plan, until he heard the screaming as soon as he entered the marsh.

He groaned, leaning his head back, "For fuck's sake..." He took a deep breath, then after taking a moment to think groaned again and headed in the direction of the screams, "If it's not one thing it's another..."

[themorbidsocialite]

The screaming was coming from Doctor Malodrema, who had somehow managed to climb up a tree on a severely mangled leg, aforementioned leg bleeding twice as much as the one and a half foot long claw wounds scraping along his torso. He was attempting to scare off a marsh-wolf with his cane sabre, the one hand occupied while the other and his teeth attempted to load a rattus faber rifle. They were notoriously horrid to load with both hands, let alone one trembling hand slick with blood and a set jaw.

The marsh-wolf jumped with a slavering SNAP, nearly making the good doctor fall and dropping the bullet in the process. That was a very creative swear they'd just uttered.

[the_soft_hearted_maven]

"Fuck," Devil muttered under his breath, taking in the scene just long enough to get an assessment. He loaded his rifle and aimed.

BANG

The marsh wolf was mid jump, once more attempting to snap at the Socialite, when suddenly the head went flying off. The kick of these special bullets, aimed at the beast's neck, decapitated it rather easily upon impact. The body plopped into the mud of the marsh, and the head went off flying into the bushes in a shower of blood.

Once the beast was dispatched, Devil shouldered the rifle and approached the tree casually as if he hadn't just decapitated the beast attacking the Socialite just now, "What's up doc?"

[themorbidsocialite]

Mori yelped at the sudden impact, then watched the Devil walk up, breathing heavily and slowly letting the adrenaline ebb from their veins. They let off a breathy, relieved chuckle. "Well, uh, it would seem what's up would be me. And thank goodness, it's you! Thank you so very much. Um, may I ask one more favor?"

He sealed the blade back in the cane and holstered the small firearm, still unloaded. He looked rather ashamed as he spoke. "Could you, please, help me down from here? I- I can get home, I assure you, it's just the landing..."

It was an obvious lie. There was no getting all the way to Spite on that gored up leg and lacerated side. Mori seemed to have convinced himself of it, however.

[the_soft_hearted_maven]

Devil looked down at Mori's leg, eyes traveling up to the side, before going up to the Socialite's face. He tilted his head and gave them a raised eyebrow, "Really? I'm not even a Doctor and I can tell you aren't walking anywhere anytime soon."

[themorbidsocialite]

"We can have a row about this after I've been removed from the damn tree. Please, help me down. I don't wish to be stuck in a tree all night." Mori tried to covertly test his ability to move his toes and found he couldn't without massive shocks of pain.

[the_soft_hearted_maven]

Devil rolled his eyes at that. He really did need to get back to the hunt as soon as possible, so he set his rifle against the tree (making sure it didn't face the Socialite) and came back around to stand beneath Mori, raising his arms to help Mori get down.

[themorbidsocialite]

Mori had made it to one side of the branch before slipping himself off and into the arms of the Brash Devil. Despite how careful they surely both were, the Socialite still choked on the pain shooting up one side of his body. They braced against the Devil, very visibly shaking and willing themselves not to let tears fall.

Trying to control their breathing, they turned, hands still gripping tight to the Devil's shirt. "Thank... Thank you. I do appreciate your help, but I have... much, still, to do."

[the_soft_hearted_maven]

Devil let out an "Oomph!" as he caught Mori. Mori was, annoyingly, just slightly taller than him, so he had to adjust his grip so as not to drop them or let their leg dip into the marsh muck and get even more infected.

"Okay, first of all, this isn't working, hang on-" his arms adjusted so they had a firm grip on Mori's thighs (not so firm as to cause unnecessary pain) and so their legs were up and around the Devil's waist so there was no risk of the open wounds getting more marsh muck in them.

"Now look," the Devil looked the Socialite face to face, "if you want to be an idiot, hobble along on this leg, probably get further chewed up by the creatures in here that's your business. But we both know that's what's gonna happen, and unless I misjudged your ability to think, I'm guessing you don't actually want that. So why don't I take you to Maven, she can get you taken care of, then you can go back to doing whatever it was you were doing."

[themorbidsocialite]

Mori stared into the Devil's eyes, trying to figure out motive and best means of approach. The knot in his chest tightened and he spoke directly.

"I need that wolf body, both parts, and I dropped my bag somewhere in the fray. Help me find those and I can potentially agree to coming with you." It wasn't a binding promise, but it was good enough to hopefully not start a proper row and keep the good doctor's pride safe.

[the_soft_hearted_maven]

The Devil rolled his eyes and let out a noise that sounded somewhere between a tired sigh and a frustrated buzz. He looked around, and seeing a large rock he walked over and set the Socialite on it, "Stay up here, don't put your legs down." He then went to get the head from where it flew and figure out where the bag was.

[themorbidsocialite]

The trail of blood leading from the tree to the location of the attack was fairly evident, even with the marsh ground. The bag was a short ways off, flung aside and, thankfully, still latched shut.

On the rock, Mori held his spinning head in his hands. How could he go and do something so stupid? He'd probably lost all his research to the contamination of the marsh, all that work put in for such little output as to be pathetic. The wounds throbbed nauseatingly and Mori had to groan. Everything they worked for, gone, completely ignoring the bleeding injuries they had sustained. They still didn't move from the rock. They wouldn't have been able to without falling. Should he have forgotten the marsh-wolf corpse? It was more useful to him than what he'd gathered, but it rather seemed like taking advantage of the Devil's kindness. All of this seemed to be taking advantage of him. How horrid. How immoral. How untoward.

Mori moved to stand, then immediately fell back on the rock, dizzy.

[the_soft_hearted_maven]

Devil came walking back, bag and head in hand, "Alright, I found the freakin' bag. There's no way I can carry you and the dead wolf at the same time though."

[themorbidsocialite]

Head still in his hand, Mori waved the other dismissively. "It's alright. Just leave it. I can... I'm not sure, but I may be able to do something. Just... I can go home. This isn't a big cause for concern at all, I can take care of it." A hand reached out, asking wordlessly for the bag. "Please." Whether that was about the bag or about going home, it was unsure, but it was clear there was no going anywhere without help. Whether the Devil would be the one to help them was another story.

[the_soft_hearted_maven]

"Now look-" whatever the Devil was about to say, he stop short and his focus was on behind Mori. Fucking hell, more wolves were coming.

In a flash he is suddenly leaning into Mori, but still looking over their shoulder. One hand was one the rock at Mori's side. (was he just stabilizing himself or was he actually protecting Mori?) He's also pulled out a smaller gun, as evident by the BANG that sounds out (much smaller than the bang from before, but still startling)

The most notable part was that his face had gone rather feral. He was buzzing again, but this time it was the sound of a predatory animal growling out a warning. The mouth twisted into a snarl, the edges of the lips pulling and showing his sharp teeth, more teeth than was possible for a human body. His eyes were glowing like embers just pulled from a fire, still hot and dangerous.

From behind Mori, there was the sound of canine whines and whimpers and the retreat of many quadruped feet.

"Alright fuck this," Devil says as he holsters the gun, and walks to the tree to get his rifle, "I'm not doing this bullshit anymore! You are coming with me and that is it, got it?!"

[themorbidsocialite]

Mori flinched slightly at the close sound of the gun, but saw the urgency of the situation and nodded. "Fine, yes, sure, we can fight later; please, let's get out of here!"

At least he wasn't entirely foolish, knowing when to prioritize safety over pride. Yes, it was humiliating to be carried out of an emergency he'd gotten himself into, but keeping them in the emergency on the off chance the Devil might give up and let him walk alone was beyond idiotic. They held tight to the Devil, ready to go.

[the_soft_hearted_maven]

Once the guns were holstered and Devil was holding both the Socialite and their bag, they headed out of the marsh. Occasionally he would hear more things and he'd let out another buzzing growl of warning. He couldn't very well fight off anything when encumbered like this, but he could warn off the threats for now.

----

Eventually they reached a cottage at the edge of the marsh. It was one of the larger ones in Watchmaker Hill, large enough to have a second story. The outside had many fungi and some of the hardier plants that had proved capable of living in the Neath, and there was a pond off the side with several silvery fish in it. It overall looked like a very cute, quaint, picturesque place to live.

[themorbidsocialite]

Mori couldn't help a slight chuckle, looking up at the place. "My second time here this week... Both houses jus' absolutely lovely..." His words were starting to slur a little, of perhaps he was too tired to keep up the posh accent, a hint of northern slipping in. His head, too heavy to keep up, kept falling in the crook of the Devil's neck as he was carried.

They still had the strength to lean up against something, if the Devil needed a hand free to knock.

[the_soft_hearted_maven]

"Fuck you're losing too much blood," Devil muttered. Mori needn't lean against anything, because once the Devil got up to the door he briefly balanced on one leg and kicked the door a few times, "Jane! Emergency! We've got a bleeding idiot here, in both senses of the word!"

After a moment some hurried footsteps came towards the front. Maven opened the door, dressed in a wrapper over her chemise with her hair pulled in a loose low ponytail. It was clear they had not been expecting company this evening.

"You're already back? What-" Maven started as she opened the door, then gasped at the sight, "Oh my goodness what happened?!"

"Marsh wolves," Brash Devil said simply as he carried the Socialite inside.

[themorbidsocialite]

"I do apologize, Doctor Rosewood, for the short notice as well as the mess. I did insist I be allowed th' trek home, but someone was insistent..." Mori waved a hand as he passed by. "I c'n assure you, I can stitch m'self up just fine once the, um... Once the dizziness passes. I'll be right."

In the light of their home, it was much clearer that the Socialite had lost quite a bit of blood and was a sickly pale. How they were sitting upright was a mystery in and of itself, let alone how he was still awake. He squinted up at the Devil. "'m sorry, 'm leavin' blood in your house and I never got your name, lad."

[the_soft_hearted_maven]

Maven was in the process of getting her doctor supplies as Devil brought Mori over to the couch. He had briefly considered the table since it would be a bigger surface to lay him on, like those operating tables he'd seen. Plus then there wouldn't be blood seeping into the couch. But he knew Maven would insist on making Mori comfortable as she worked, so the couch it was.

"It's Derek, now pipe down and stop with this nonsense about you doing this yourself. You aren't the only Doctor around here."

"Quite right," Maven had placed all the needed supplies on the table beside the couch, then walked over, "Okay Mori, I'm going to have to undress you in order to see the wounds better." While she still spoke with concern for the Socialite, her voice was becoming a bit more clinical, the panic of the sudden appearance of the wounded classmate replaced with the sense of a professional at work.

[themorbidsocialite]

Despite being told to remove the clothes in a normal manner, Mori pulled a set of shears from his bag and cut along the buttons of his shirt and the whole of the pants leg. "If I'm losing 's much blood as I likely am, can't waste time on formalities. Best t'jus' do away with the lot of it. Jay-sus, the loss is dizzying... If you don't have disinfectant handy, we'll need clear alcohol like a gin or vodka. Might take a swig of it, too, to numb the pain. Bastard shook its head in the brawl, so the leg'll need a proper restructurin', maybe even a death an' reform. The side, however, can be stitched proper. I c'n do the stitching myself. 's what I do best. But the leg's the nasty bit. I can respect, if you don't want to do it on short notice. I c'n go home to have a game with the Boatman."

Even around the tired slurring, Dr. Malodrema was focused, zeroed in on the issue at hand, even if the assumptions on how to best fix the worst of it were overly dire and blunt. They were already looting their own bag for medical supplies on hand.

[the_soft_hearted_maven]

Happy to see Mori taking this seriously, Maven knelt down beside them and got to work, "I'll see what I can do about the leg. If you insist on stitching your side you may, but I will have to insist you not drink any alcohol if you do. Your mind is dizzy enough from the blood loss, you need to keep your wits about you. I can give you disinfectant to sterilize it, and maybe later once we've taken care of everything and gotten some food in you we can get you a drink for the pain." She glanced at the Brash Devil, "Can you prepare the towels for afterwards?"

He nodded and left to do that.

[themorbidsocialite]

Mori was oddly quiet in their focus, sterilizing the curved needle and cleaning their side of blood before starting work stitching. There was an unmasked exhaustion and dread across his face, unfamiliar and uncanny on the usually jovial, expressive features. There was something hard and cold behind the eyes that spilled the hand and pushed sight through the blinking stars in his vision and focused on the wounds.

Of course, shirtless, there were countless other scars across his torso, including a recently agitated one on his arm and a surgically precise wound, surface level, on the other hip. Each one had been closed with perfect sutures, a hand practiced at closing bodies to appear perfect and unmarred. Breathing was carefully timed with each stitch, ensuring that the chest was neither moving as the thread pulled through nor exhaling, allowing any inhale to strain, tear, or pop the stitching. He'd done this again and again and again; for what?

What in the world was Mementomori doing in the Marshes?

[the_soft_hearted_maven]

Maven was focused as well. The only words out of her mouth were to give Mori warning if she was about to do something that would cause them pain, as a courtesy and because she didn't want to make them slip in their stitches. At one point the Brash Devil came back with sterilized towels. He muttered to Maven something about taking dinner off the stove, to which she merely gave a nod of acknowledgement.

Meanwhile she focused on flushing out the wound of any remaining marsh bits left in and disinfecting the site. Once she was sure the area was as clean as she could make it, she got to work on stitches herself.

Still, she did occasionally glance up and noted the scars along Mori's body. Surely not all of those could be from similar emergencies. Was Mori experimenting on himself?

Something to ask about later, as well as what the Socialite was doing in the marsh in the first place. Right now, focus.