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Back with a Bang - @Applo, @Doctor Jax
The last thing he remembered was racing for the trees, like Ana had instructed him, trying to get somewhere, or maybe back to the camp? Finley wasn't sure, he wasn't sure of anything anymore, other than that he was hurt and that it was dark and sometimes all colours combined and he felt very, very nauseous. Did he trip over a root? Or was it the leaf he saw in passing that he chewed on? It was a very curious specimen after all and so fragrant and the botanist had wondered if it tasted as good as it smelled.
The tent was quiet, at least for the moment. Across the room, Orville slept soundly, only turning over minutely or shifting. Yet there was a sort of seasick sensation, as if Finley were on a great vessel aboard the sea. The dark was thick as oil, sticking to every available surface, and there was little light but for a lone candle on a trunk.
"So, you're finally awake."
There was a hint of motion at the very edge of the candles corona. A body moved through the gloom accompanied by the sound of creaking wood and a slow dull thud.
"Me and Doctor Danford were quite uncertain as to when you would wake up."
Shuffling into view with a slightly lopsided shuffles, Dr Pendleton squinted at the young botanist through the darkness of the tent's exterior.
"To be frank we were not really sure what was wrong with you. One of the others brought you back to camp. Your body seemed to need sleep and nothing suggested we shouldn't let you have it so sleep you did. How are you feeling, old chap?"
For Finley, in the moment, awake seemed like a big word. His body was swaying, as if back on that awful boat again on which he had already lost the content of his guts to, and then there was the constant drip, drip, drip that surrounded him, thick and syrupy, reminding him of fresh pancakes on sunday, but without the sweet smell following after.
"Hrmpf?" he managed to produce the sound, but his mouth felt as thick and heavy as the darkness that surrounded him, scaring him ever so slightly remembering that they hadn't even arrived that long ago.
But the doc said he had been asleep, long asleep, and maybe that explained the griminess surrounding him a bit, even if the doctor didn't seem to notice it himself, or let it bother him anymore.
Scraping his throat, gurgling and coughing as if the grimy substance was stuck there as well Finley finally found the ease of speech once more, though it sounded heavy and slow to him, his lips fighting to articulate properly.
"My head," he groans, finally noticing the splitting headache he had and the dark spots that followed, eyes blinking before he peered at the candle ahead, relieved to find that he could still see at least even if the darkness seemed impenetrable.
"Where are we?" he questioned, followed with a wince, the obviousness of the answer so clear and so thick, and yet Finley couldn't trust it. Where was the crackling of the campfire? Lung's murmurings of dinner? The chatter of the rest?
"What happened? The skull, the camp?" The memories flooded back and Finley remembered once more how he had held the jaw of a deadman in hands, and how he had vomited after getting off the boat, emptying his already empty stomach in the jungle before Anna told him to run for the trees.
"He's awake!"
The voice came from a chipper and familiar face, young Danford bursting in beside Dr. Pendleton like an overeager puppy.
"I thought I heard somebody speaking, and it wasn't Orville. How are you feeling!" Danford asked, before realizing he was perhaps overstepping his bounds. The junior doctor quickly took a step back.
"Er, that is, if the good doctor is done with you. There's so much that's happened, Finn…!"
"Well? Speak up!" Finley groaned in an uncharacteristic bout of impatience, his head splitting, the energy from Danford proving too much to his still grasping mind that was trying to make sense of the situation.
And then a gunshot. The crack of the rifle as a bullet was loosened somewhere in the camp of which the sound made Finley cringe and crumble into each other as if he was shot himself, the sound too loud and too scary, instantly recognised.
A lot had happened indeed, he felt, too much and perhaps there wasn't enough time to listen if Finley wanted to live.
With surprising strength and a swimming head Finley finally managed to get himself out of bed, his throat still in need of water, but the fear momentarily made him forget such as he stumbled over to the light, the only light in the tent.
"What the blast."
Instinctively hunched low, Bertrum pivoted on his cane and stared at the sliver of radiant, dust filled light that was the entrance of the tent.
"What in the hell do those bloody idiots think they are doing out there!"
Creeping forward, the senior doctor joined Finley at the entrance of the tent, squinting into the blinding light.
"Danford, do you have any idea what's going on out there?
The last thing he remembered was racing for the trees, like Ana had instructed him, trying to get somewhere, or maybe back to the camp? Finley wasn't sure, he wasn't sure of anything anymore, other than that he was hurt and that it was dark and sometimes all colours combined and he felt very, very nauseous. Did he trip over a root? Or was it the leaf he saw in passing that he chewed on? It was a very curious specimen after all and so fragrant and the botanist had wondered if it tasted as good as it smelled.
The tent was quiet, at least for the moment. Across the room, Orville slept soundly, only turning over minutely or shifting. Yet there was a sort of seasick sensation, as if Finley were on a great vessel aboard the sea. The dark was thick as oil, sticking to every available surface, and there was little light but for a lone candle on a trunk.
"So, you're finally awake."
There was a hint of motion at the very edge of the candles corona. A body moved through the gloom accompanied by the sound of creaking wood and a slow dull thud.
"Me and Doctor Danford were quite uncertain as to when you would wake up."
Shuffling into view with a slightly lopsided shuffles, Dr Pendleton squinted at the young botanist through the darkness of the tent's exterior.
"To be frank we were not really sure what was wrong with you. One of the others brought you back to camp. Your body seemed to need sleep and nothing suggested we shouldn't let you have it so sleep you did. How are you feeling, old chap?"
For Finley, in the moment, awake seemed like a big word. His body was swaying, as if back on that awful boat again on which he had already lost the content of his guts to, and then there was the constant drip, drip, drip that surrounded him, thick and syrupy, reminding him of fresh pancakes on sunday, but without the sweet smell following after.
"Hrmpf?" he managed to produce the sound, but his mouth felt as thick and heavy as the darkness that surrounded him, scaring him ever so slightly remembering that they hadn't even arrived that long ago.
But the doc said he had been asleep, long asleep, and maybe that explained the griminess surrounding him a bit, even if the doctor didn't seem to notice it himself, or let it bother him anymore.
Scraping his throat, gurgling and coughing as if the grimy substance was stuck there as well Finley finally found the ease of speech once more, though it sounded heavy and slow to him, his lips fighting to articulate properly.
"My head," he groans, finally noticing the splitting headache he had and the dark spots that followed, eyes blinking before he peered at the candle ahead, relieved to find that he could still see at least even if the darkness seemed impenetrable.
"Where are we?" he questioned, followed with a wince, the obviousness of the answer so clear and so thick, and yet Finley couldn't trust it. Where was the crackling of the campfire? Lung's murmurings of dinner? The chatter of the rest?
"What happened? The skull, the camp?" The memories flooded back and Finley remembered once more how he had held the jaw of a deadman in hands, and how he had vomited after getting off the boat, emptying his already empty stomach in the jungle before Anna told him to run for the trees.
"He's awake!"
The voice came from a chipper and familiar face, young Danford bursting in beside Dr. Pendleton like an overeager puppy.
"I thought I heard somebody speaking, and it wasn't Orville. How are you feeling!" Danford asked, before realizing he was perhaps overstepping his bounds. The junior doctor quickly took a step back.
"Er, that is, if the good doctor is done with you. There's so much that's happened, Finn…!"
"Well? Speak up!" Finley groaned in an uncharacteristic bout of impatience, his head splitting, the energy from Danford proving too much to his still grasping mind that was trying to make sense of the situation.
And then a gunshot. The crack of the rifle as a bullet was loosened somewhere in the camp of which the sound made Finley cringe and crumble into each other as if he was shot himself, the sound too loud and too scary, instantly recognised.
A lot had happened indeed, he felt, too much and perhaps there wasn't enough time to listen if Finley wanted to live.
With surprising strength and a swimming head Finley finally managed to get himself out of bed, his throat still in need of water, but the fear momentarily made him forget such as he stumbled over to the light, the only light in the tent.
"What the blast."
Instinctively hunched low, Bertrum pivoted on his cane and stared at the sliver of radiant, dust filled light that was the entrance of the tent.
"What in the hell do those bloody idiots think they are doing out there!"
Creeping forward, the senior doctor joined Finley at the entrance of the tent, squinting into the blinding light.
"Danford, do you have any idea what's going on out there?