paradisalost | (no subject)

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[ BACKDATED TO THE 27TH. ]

lana luthor;

I-- [ Ow, talking should not hurt as much as it does right now, but she cannot falter, there is to much riding on this. ] I know where Damon is. He is still here, in Paradisa.

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You look utterly terrible. These need to come out.

[ He's more than happy to sprawl out, reaching up to pull open his shirt to get a good look at the bullet wounds in his chest. A few of the buttons pop off and it takes a colossal effort for him to even pop it open, but he does it and cringes as he looks down.

The wounds are festering a little, puckered where the bullets went in. The one in his chest is obviously the freshest, but there are more. Wooden bullets pepper his skin like he's a big chocolate chip cookie of pain. He drops his head back to the couch and shuts his eyes, holding out his hand. ]

I wish we had some surgical tools. You know, tweezers, scalpel. Something fun. [ On the coffee table behind where his hand is, a tray of the aforementioned tools is dropped off by a ghost. With monumental effort, he cracks open one eye and gets a look. ]

Finally. [ He shifts on the couch a little, trying to undo his pants and failing the button. ] There's more. You're gonna need to help me -- [ he grimaces. ] Feel free to just use your teeth to pull them off. No one's complaining.

Keep dreaming.

Try to stay still. I'm not an expert at removing bullets.

Can't be worse than the past week. Just ... get it over with. [ He shuts his eyes tightly, bracing for the pain. This is going to be a long, agonizing process. ]

There. All done.

[ It probably didn't help her first surgery experience that while she dug around in his chest, he was screaming in pain the whole time, groaning and gasping and gripping the couch as he tried not to move. But, now that she's done, he's considerably more relaxed. In a more ... half-dead and not wanting to budge capacity. ]

I owe you one.

You really do.

...You need something else don't you? Blood, correct? How much?

I'm not drinking yours. [ He doesn't even give her a chance to suggest it. ] I need more than you'd survive.

I can't just leave you like this, you look like you're wasting away.

This is what happens when vampires don't feed. We become living corpses. Mummies. [ He struggles to sit up. ] If you stay ... I don't think I'll be able to stop myself. [ He reaches out and pushes hair away from her neck. ]

That is exactly why I-- Damon, I won't leave you like this.

And I won't feel better if I kill you. [ He snarls, trying to scare her off. His teeth come out and the veins crawl, darkening the underneath of his eyes which go bloodshot. ] So, get out of here before I do.

If I go... how will you stop yourself from degenerating further? The whole castle thinks you have left or are dead. How exactly will you get the blood you need if you cannot even leave this couch?

I'll figure it out. You've helped enough. [ He really doesn't want to eat her, but damn he can smell how scared she is and while that really just makes him want to grab her and take a bite more, it also makes him kind of impressed. ]

How?

I have a journal, [ he swats a hand onto the coffee table to pick the journal up and wave it to her. ] And, friends in the castle. I'll make it work.

Very well.

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