The sole survivor got bit by something radioactive and it doesn't look good. How do the companions react?
Cait examines the wound anxiously. She’s had her share of bruises and scrapes and she’s figured out ways to treat those in a pinch. But radioactivity? “Look, maybe I could help if ya’d just had your arm broken or somethin’. But look at this. I can’t do anythin’ with this,” she fumes, furious at them for getting hurt, furious at herself for not knowing what to do. Trying to ignore the needles in her chest, she does her best to clean the wound and tie it up in the cleanest dressings she can find. Then, with a grunt, she singlehandedly hauls them to their knees and half-carries, half-drags them across the Commonwealth to the closest thing that looks like a doctor.
“My! That looks just dreadful, Sir/Mum,” Codsworth says at the sight of the disagreeable wound. “I’m afraid the nature of my extremities limits the aid I can provide to you, but I will do my best to help.” He’s right – his Mister Handy arms are certainly dexterous, but they have difficulty gripping tiny chem needles and maneuvering fabric. With Sole’s help, they do what they can to treat and sterilize the wound, and they both try to find their way to the nearest settlement for further treatment.
“Oh! You simply must be more careful, monsieur/madame!” cries Curie at the sight of the grisly wound. She knows exactly what they need, but there aren’t nearly enough resources in their crumbled-down building. She knows she must do what she can, so she props them up on a file cabinet and dresses the wound with some anti-rad poultice to help draw out the infection. It will do for now, but for the long term there are concerns of equipment, sterilization, treatment…. She sighs at the whole situation. “Please lean on me now,” she tells them. “We must go to Vault 81.”
Danse’s stomach turns when he sees the nasty, glowing wound. He insists on lifting them to the Prydwen, regardless of Sole’s standing with the Brotherhood of Steel. “This wound is beyond my own treatment capabilities,” he says firmly. “You need help immediately, and I won’t waste your time on a Commonwealth doctor who doesn’t have the resources to treat it properly.” Before they can say anything else, he’s turned away to call in for a Vertibird to lift them to the Prydwen, and when it arrives he carries them aboard to prevent agitating the wound. He occasionally clears his throat, trying to free the nausea from it.
“That’s, uh… one nasty bite,” says Deacon, feeling sick at the sight of the wound. “Looks like a feral’s backside. Speaking of backsides, listen, Carrington’s an ass, but he’s the best doctor I know. We’re gonna to get you back to HQ ASAP, so just hold on, okay?” Injuries are common in the Railroad and he does the best he can to treat it temporarily. He wraps up the wound, making noises of distaste and cringing at it even harder than Sole does, and he administers enough anti-rad medication to afford them more time. Eventually he throws an arm under them for support and they start to make their way back to Railroad headquarters.
Dogmeat sniffs the wound and backs away hurriedly, barking at it. Sole knows there’s not much he can do to help, but he offers them someone to lean on as they do their best to treat the wound themselves, occasionally nuzzling their face with worry. As they hobble back to the settlement they just came from, he runs ahead of them, barking for someone to come help.
“Damn,” says Hancock, grimacing at the sight of the wound. “That looks pretty bad. How’s it feel?” He’s seen his fair share of wastelanders stumble into Goodneighbor for help, and he knows how quickly the effects of radiation can work on the body. He does his best to keep the wound clean and dry, wrapping it up loosely afterward. But eventually he looks up and says, “We should get this looked at fast. Let’s get you out of here.” He throws their arm over his shoulder, bracing them with his other hand, and he supports them the entire way to the nearest settlement, asking them “still okay?” and “how’s it doing now?” as they walk.
MacCready buzzes with nervousness and disgust and worry when he sees the bite. “I don’t know what to do about this! Why didn’t you just let me take the bite instead? Ugh, that’s nasty,” he says, making a face and turning away. “We’ve got to do something. We need to get you some help. Come on. I’m finding you a doctor.” He helps them to the nearest settlement; he hopes the treatment there will buy them enough time to find the best doctor in the Commonwealth, which he fully intends to do.
Nick lets out a low whistle when he sees the damage done to Sole. “That thing got you pretty good. We need to make sure this gets looked at or things’ll go south, fast.” Out of habit he supports the wound with his good hand and wraps it with the other, but he clucks his tongue with impatience when he finds that his exposed hand stings the injury. With Sole’s help he eventually dresses the wound, and once Sole’s arm is tucked securely around Nick, together they make the trek towards Diamond City.
Piper likes to think she’s learned a lot about treating injuries from spending time with Sole, but this is unlike any injury she’s ever seen. She’s more rattled than she’s been with any other wound, looking on it with nausea in her throat. “Blue… ugh, I’m sorry, that’s just so gross,” she mumbles, covering her mouth and looking away. “I don’t think I’m the one who’s going to be able to help you here. Can you walk? I think we should get you back to Dr. Sun, pronto.” Sole is able to partially dress the wound themselves, Piper handing them supplies, and despite looking paler than Sole, she helps them all the way to Diamond City.
“Wow. That thing really did a number on you, General,” says Preston, trying but failing to hide the unease on his face. Time spent with the Minutemen taught him quite a few ways to treat wounds, battling off ghouls and raiders carrying any number of diseases. The closest thing he’s seen to a bite like this was a glowing feral bite… and he remembers just how quickly that one escalated. Quickly but precisely, he cleans and treats the bite, leaving it to drain. “We’re getting you to a doctor as soon as possible,” he tells them, bracing their body against him as he’d done with others so many times. “Just hold on to me.”
When Sole tells Strong what might happen if this mystery wound goes untreated, he springs into action. “Strong tear it off,” he declares. Sole hastily objects. But that’s the extent of Strong’s knowledge of treating wounds – he doesn’t know what else to do to the the offending bite, and neither does Sole, so at their suggestion he picks them up and carries them to the nearest settlement, trying not to jostle the wound but not doing a great job at it, either.
X6-88 understands perfectly that Sole can handle things by themselves. But he refuses to allow them treatment from some excuse of a surface doctor with improper sterilization, tools, and knowledge of treatment when the superior resources of the Institute are within reach. “My foremost responsibility is to ensure your safety, sir/ma'am. I cannot do that if I choose not to provide you with the most prudent help I possibly can. We are returning to the Institute,” he says firmly. He knows their life will be in danger if their wound is not handled properly the first time, and if they have access to the best, then they will use it. Period.
First of all, hello all of my lovely followers out there! <33
so, let me begin by saying I am sothankful and happy to have all of you in my life. Even if you are only reblogging something from my blog or know me on a more personal level, I feel like you are all present in my every day life. Or maybe, “tumblr-life”. If that’s even a word haha. And I love you all so much! <33
To be completely honest, I never in my whole life imagined that this could or would happen to me! 100+ Followers?! <33 If you had asked me a year ago, I would have laughed in your face. But now…O M G haha! :)
Now my dashboard is full with beautiful pictures, edits, videos, drabbles and many many more things I love. <3 And I’m not just talking about Klaroline, although all of you know that these two are always on my dashboard!! <33 I just can’t live without them on my dashboard! Klaroliners can surely relate :)
All of you make me smile, laugh, scream, cry and a lot of other things that would take too long if I wrote all of them down haha. :D
Okay, so I really want to say THANK YOU SO SO MUCH! <3333
I know, why didn’t I say that sooner, right? Forgive me, haha. :) But, thanks anyway for reading! ;) And now finally, without further ado, I’m going to mention all of you:
I’m mostly posting about Lizzington (OTPs must hurt) and The Blacklist… which means atm more rants than anything else. But please bare with me. Sometimes I reblog bunnies as well because DUH. And then there is music and art. So yes:
I’m very happy to welcome you to my chaos/Lizzington/James Spader etc. blog. :D
Время, в которое ты живёшь. Что, если было бы возможно родиться в средние века, в эпоху возрождения. Или тебе комфортно в этом времени?
К Делу приступим попозже, а пока пару слов о сегодняшнем дне. Столько вопросов и пожеланий! Это странно, но людям действительно интересно, как я провел день на съёмках. Спасибо за поддержку, тамблеровцы! Рассказывать об этом я могу гораздо дольше, чем писать, потому что ещё лет в 8 я воображал себя, сидящим перед камерами. Маленькая сбыча мечт, хотя сегодня я в основном ходил перед камерами. Моё утро началось в 6:30, маленькая подготовка дома, затем телецентр. Там грим (спокойно, это для предотвращения блеска от света. Я ещё по эту сторону баррикад), потом моё хождение по всяческим студиям (это невероятное зрелище!), ещё приготовления и выезд на точку. А там - полтора часа съёмок. Говорят, у меня получается не хуже всех (=
А теперь к теме. У меня есть два любимейших исторических периода.
Каретная Москва или Петербург. Скорее Москва. Множество пешеходов. Стук металлических колёс, стук копыт, стук тростей и каблуков. Улица Поварская. Один из многочисленных домов, богато декорированный разнообразием узоров и резьбы. Вокруг дома суета, подъезжают и подъезжают кареты, кавалеры и их дамы приветливо здороваются, то и дело появляются служанки, недовольные то ли занятостью, то ли неблагосклонностью сударынь, в окнах девичьи лица… Сегодня здесь будет бал. Будет танцевать Наташа, обязательно приедет Андрей, явится и Пьер с матушкой и, как всегда, заставит смущаться дам и иронизировать полковников. Будут судачить о войне, о Бонапарте, о нравах и о литературе. Будет звучать рояль и петь сопрано.
Или вот ещё. Просигналив, передо мной проносится знаменитый Кадиллак Эльдорадо. Надо быть аккуратнее, совсем недавно прошёл дождь, асфальт ещё совсем влажный. Вообще, моя промокшая шляпа смотрится немного нелепо, но я элегантен в пиджаке, жилете и галстуке. Но ещё элегантнее она: незатейливая причёска, с собранными сзади локонами, лёгкая блузочка с рукавами до локтя, пышная недлинная юбочка в горошек и зонтик. Как она умудряется держать зонт и одновременно обмахиваться веером? Диву даюсь! Какой-то Форд опять едва не сбивает с ног. “Будь повнимательнее” - говорю я ей. Нет, правда. Сладкий голос Синатры, который теперь ежедневно и отовсюду, конечно хорошо, но и жизнью рисковать не хочется. Кстати, очередь на сегодняшний мьюзикл уже выглядит непроходимой. Бродвей, что сказать!
How did that happen? There are almost 400 of you following this blog! And one of my posts – a link to an article of all things – is blowing up my notifications today (it’s a good article though, about what it means when millennials and sarcastic/disgusted GenXers like myself use the term “adulting”)