voice: un: thomas

[rickitikitarr]

[[Forward dated to one good nights' sleep after the music ends.]]

Well.

[Says Ricki's voice, with that very distinct perfectly calm tone that manages to convey that something is probably actively on fire.]

Is there a doctor on board?

[The feed disconnects rather abruptly. What's happening in Ricki's room isn't pretty. Brightly, he adds;]

And if so is he free right fucking now?


[[Content warning for blood and injuries.]]

[It starts with a scratch on the back of his hand. It's just a little thing, he probably gave it to himself while he was helping Bodhi with the clean up. That he can't remember, after the week it's been, isn't surprising. When he goes to check on it that night, just to be sure it isn't infected, it's already gone... except now there's blood on his arm? How did he get cut there?

When he wakes up from the next sleep he's bled right through his undershirt, and all over his sheets, and it's hard to breathe. That's when he gives in and gets on the network and posts his message, staunching the wound with the clothes he has, trying to lie mostly still and not panic about the fact that his body is apparently tearing itself open from the inside out. It's like being a piece of cloth snagged on a rusty nail, and he doesn't know if he wants to laugh or faint.]


Video, much later.

[He pans the camera around his room, after it's older. It's the Reverie station standard, except now it looks like a fucking crime scene. Cloth and tissue and torn off sheets are wadded on the floor.

He's not up for making the full report. In fact, his hands are shaking badly enough that he lowers the camera, sets it down, putting himself in frame. He takes out, and lights a cigarette, lifting it to his mouth and taking a long drag off it, with fingers that are both shaking badly and bloodstained.

Ricki takes a long drag, breathes the smoke out through his nose.]

Fun for the whole family, right?

Comments

voice; un: rogue

[theycalledmeacurse]

[ Oh lord. A handful of words in and she's completely terrified of what might be happening, and it's a real struggle to keep her voice steady as she replies, already flinging herself out of her room. ]

Where are you, sugar? What's going on?

[rickitikitarr]

Deck three room two.

[Still level, still purely informational;]

I'm bleeding.

[And apparently understating the case.]

[theycalledmeacurse]

[ ?!!!??!!! Her steps quicken until she's practically running toward the elevator, not giving a damn who might see her so long as no one tries to stop her. ]

I'm on my way there right now. What happened?

[rickitikitarr]

Haven't the faintest.

[Now he sounds properly light headed, but that's mostly the shock.]

Bring bandages.

private;

[reposing]

Tell me if his condition does not improve. He is being difficult.

Unsurprising, of course.

video; un:millerlite

[pampa]

[ this is why people hate earthers. miller fights down the rage that bubbles up the back of his throat at the lit cigarette. he doesn't know how far off this video is or even if he can stop it, but he owes ricki pain next time he sees him - even if the station seems to have done that for him. the sheer volume of blood gets a keen detective's eye, remembering acutely his "investigation" of what happened to alex. he knows it's more of the same, and he's sure it sucked, but that's no excuse to kill the rest of them, is it? ]

Put that damn thing out or I'll find a creative way to do it myself.

[rickitikitarr]

Get fucked.

[Answers Ricki, sweetly, and definitely keeps smoking.]

It's an emergency.

[pampa]

We're already playing a dangerous fucking game with how long the air filters will last and now you want to give everyone here emphysema because you're too selfish to get your fix some other way? Inyalowda pagal. [ like no seriously he's gonna cut u 🔪 ]

[rickitikitarr]

Puki mak kau.

[Answers Ricki, and doesn't put out the cigarette.]

Emphysema is the least of our fucking worries. This place is eating through us like we're a wet paper bag.

audio; un: alucard

[reposing]

Speaking.

Where can I find you?

[rickitikitarr]

Jesus, it's you.

[Is there a different, less Transylvanian doctor?]

[reposing]

If only it were Jesus, hm?

I am the closest thing this station has to a doctor. It is me, or no one.

[rickitikitarr]

Hang tight. I can still feel my extremities.

voice | apollo2

[solarcharged]

[ Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh okay that doesn't sound good. Apollo is already moving towards his cabin door but he quickly fires off a reply: ]

Ricki? What's wrong?

[rickitikitarr]

False alarm. Ish. Just the station doing something awful and unpredictable.

[He promises, audibly coming down now from the panic.]

[solarcharged]

Just a normal Tuesday?

[ He's already punching the keypad to his own cabin door and heading down the corridor. ]

That didn't really sound like a false alarm to me. I'm coming over...

[rickitikitarr]

Only if you please bring a mop.

[Says Ricki, who is pretty unilaterally done with people announcing they're invading his place. He's moving, after this.]

video » un: rook

[onlydoubts]

Ricki? What's happened?

[ that. doesn't sound good, at all. Bodhi might not be a doctor of any kind, but could probably help get him somewhere, if that's what he needs. ]

[rickitikitarr]

Just the station being the station, I suppose.

[He asks, when he gets to this a few minutes later. His tone is changed from bright and aggressive to sluggish and subdued.]

[onlydoubts]

You okay, now? [ so typical day ending in "y" then. ] Did you get to a doctor, yet?

private

[rickitikitarr]

Turns out all we've got for one is Alucard, and I don't know him well enough to let him near me. Or should I say, know just enough of him to not want to take that gamble.

But it doesn't matter. The cut's definitely closing up now.

video } un; envoy

[resleeves]

The fuck happened to you?

( that was a lot of fucking blood and this was coming from someone who'd seen a lot of fucking blood many times in his life. )

Are you dying?

[rickitikitarr]

This fucking piece of shit station, or whoever's running it, cut me open and wouldn't let the wound staunch.

[He answers, low and finally through 'spitting mad' and into 'slightly woozy'.]

Bleeding's stopped now, but it lasted a few hours.

[resleeves]

The station cut you open?

( he doesn't want to be dubious but he was dubious. )

How? Does this station have arms now?

[rickitikitarr]

That's what makes it the station. Or some extremely fucking nimble invisible person.

My skin just ripped open and blood started bubbling up. Started on my hand, tore right up my arm and down to my stomach, closing behind itself as it went. The tail fucking lengthened as it dragged, like some kind of- shitty fucking comet.

[There is a case to be made that he's in a little bit of shock now. Playfully conversational, he adds;]

I'm handling it well. Four screaming arguments and one near fistfight.