(no subject)
WHO: John Constantine and Eridan Ampora
WHAT: Rescuing unpleasant whiny fish troll douchebags
WHERE: Just off a highway some distance outside ToC
WHEN: June 26th
WARNINGS: Foul language?
SUMMARY: Reports of his death are greatly exaggerated -- contrary to reports, Eridan isn't dead. But he sure feels like it, and a little under-appreciated help goes a long way.
Eridan gasped, and pulled himself a few feet further along. Maybe the sun wasn't literally burning him to a crisp, but it was bright enough to force him to squint muzzily ahead and hot enough that he felt lightheaded and delirious. He definitely couldn't walk any further; his already hurt ankle had given out a half mile back. He was probably going to die. No, make that sure he was going to die. If he didn't feel vaguely nauseous, he'd have more energy to feel sorry for himself, but as it was, even mustering the energy for that wasn't coming too easily.
When he'd regained consciousness after his confrontation with Sollux, he was firmly wedged between a rock and a hard place, very literally. His fall had been caught by a particularly narrow part of the gorge, and despite a twisted leg, a concussion, and numerous scrapes and bruises, he was still alive. Eridan wasn't sure how long it took to climb out and make his way back to the top of the canyon in the blindingly hot sunlight, but it felt like hours. He also wasn't entirely sure which way was back to town; he was groggy, and everything looked different in the unpleasant light of day.
Which left him, another couple hours later, lying by the side of the road like a candy-corn bedecked, grape-jam encusted, piece of roadkill.
WHAT: Rescuing unpleasant whiny fish troll douchebags
WHERE: Just off a highway some distance outside ToC
WHEN: June 26th
WARNINGS: Foul language?
SUMMARY: Reports of his death are greatly exaggerated -- contrary to reports, Eridan isn't dead. But he sure feels like it, and a little under-appreciated help goes a long way.
Eridan gasped, and pulled himself a few feet further along. Maybe the sun wasn't literally burning him to a crisp, but it was bright enough to force him to squint muzzily ahead and hot enough that he felt lightheaded and delirious. He definitely couldn't walk any further; his already hurt ankle had given out a half mile back. He was probably going to die. No, make that sure he was going to die. If he didn't feel vaguely nauseous, he'd have more energy to feel sorry for himself, but as it was, even mustering the energy for that wasn't coming too easily.
When he'd regained consciousness after his confrontation with Sollux, he was firmly wedged between a rock and a hard place, very literally. His fall had been caught by a particularly narrow part of the gorge, and despite a twisted leg, a concussion, and numerous scrapes and bruises, he was still alive. Eridan wasn't sure how long it took to climb out and make his way back to the top of the canyon in the blindingly hot sunlight, but it felt like hours. He also wasn't entirely sure which way was back to town; he was groggy, and everything looked different in the unpleasant light of day.
Which left him, another couple hours later, lying by the side of the road like a candy-corn bedecked, grape-jam encusted, piece of roadkill.