(no subject)

[sweet-beatrice.livejournal.com]

*Beatrice walks back up from the lake with purpose in her step. She slips into the bar proper and checks to be sure that no one is there.*

Bar, I would have of thee one last favour. Please, a sharp knife.

*Carefully, she slits her wrists and *

Comments

[iopenthings]

[OOC: slitting your wrists that way won't actually kill you, generally speaking. Have to do it the long way...]

[locks_it_up]

((She's not going to die, anyway. Death is..... otherwise occupied.))

[dramaturgca.livejournal.com]

I know, that's part of the point...

[iopenthings]

[OOC: I figured that was probably the case, but wasn't entirely sure]

[veryvorkosigan]

((OOC: apropos of nothing? ICON-LOVE. Oh yes.))

[balletrat]

*The small ballerina skips into the bar, then stops, stares, and skids over to the bleeding girl. Kneeling down, she rips pieces off her gauzy tutu and starts to tie them around the girl's wrists, tourniquet-style.*

Er. Someone? Anyone? Er - I think there's may be someone kind of dying in here, or at least doing a very good impression of it . . . *Her voice is squeaky with half-controlled hysteria.*

[weallscream.livejournal.com]

*From the doorway, Paul ignores her utterly.*

[balletrat]

*Meg sees Paul standing there and glares at him.*

What the hell are you doing? Get over here and help, or something -

[weallscream.livejournal.com]

*Ignores her as well, and, with a backwards glare at the bar, goes outside.*

[lyra_silver]

*walks over quickly, checks Beatrice's pulse*

[balletrat]

Um. *Meg swallows nervously.* Is she dead?

[lyra_silver]

She can't be. She's still bleeding. Her pulse is very weak, though.

[OOC: Where's Lord Peter when we need him? I learned that corpses don't bleed... usually... from Have His Carcass.]

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

She's still alive, and will remain so.

*to Beatrice*

Can you hear me, my dear?

[sweet-beatrice.livejournal.com]

*No answer, no movement*

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

*mutters to himself*

Oh dear, this is always difficult when they don't want help...

*concentrates*

Come on now, my dear. It can't be all that bad. You're going to be fine, you know. It may not feel like it at the moment, but...

*sighs, and frowns in concentration*

[sweet-beatrice.livejournal.com]

*Finger twitch*


[OOC: You get to decide which... ;)]

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

*keeps up a steady monologue, his voice soothing, as flesh starts to knit back together under his hands*

...there now, you see? Feeling better already. I must say this place does keep you on your toes- I'm not sure Gabriel would approve of all the miracles. Did you meet Gabriel? She's awfully nice, you know...

[sweet-beatrice.livejournal.com]

*Shallow breath*
No...

[lordpeter.livejournal.com]

A man who resembles Aziraphael in superficials -- tall, fair-haired, a little foolish-faced -- puts his head in the door, and frowns.

The machine that makes horrible tea said I was wanted up here. Bit of trouble, eh?

Peter crosses the floor to where the woman lies, the blood no longer seeping out of her tourniquets. He examines her injuries professionally and unflinchingly.

Well done, oh I say. Bring us a bit of brandy, there's a chap, and we'll soon have her to rights entire. Pretty thing; wonder why she tried it.

He tsks professionally.

Saw this in the war. Poor blokes usually got sent home on account of nervous breakdown, which I suppose is all they wanted at any rate.

[balletrat]

*Meg twists her thumbs nervously.* I was trying to put tourniquets on - I don't know if I did it right, though -

*She points to the scraps of fabric twisted around Beatrice's arms.*

[lyra_silver]

It looks like the way the nurses at Jordan did it, so I bet you were right.

Anyway, he's *gestures towards Aziraphael* an angel, so he can save her. If he wants.

[balletrat]

*Meg's eyes widen and she shrinks away slightly.*

He's an angel? Je m'en fous, we're in trouble . . .

[lyra_silver]

There are lots of 'em here, and rebel angels. He's just an angel, not a rebel.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

*comes in, dripping wet and looking very concerned and confused*

*takes in the scene*

Oh. Bugger.

*comes to kneel beside Beatrice*

[4i-messenger.livejournal.com]

*Appears out of thin air*

*picks up Beatrice, wraps her in her wings, and cradles her*

Shhh...in time, my child, in time.