bioshock meme | 10 quotes
Hector was in bad, bad shape. There was no nicer way to put it. In fact, “bad shape” was the understatement of the century as the disciple—well, ex-disciple now—collapsed into his bed, sweat and blood dripping freely off his form and staining the sheets bunched under him. It was a damn miracle he’d reached home on his own, considering the tremendous strain he’d been put under. Yet, he hadn’t the strength to remove his tattered clothes, or roll on to his side, or even groan feebly for help. Not that anyone would hear him. Not that he wanted anyone to hear.
The actor whimpered as he eventually moved onto his back, sharp pain surging through him as he fell against his own, stiff mattress, his eyes stinging and screwing shut. He could still feel that monster on him—tearing at his skin, biting at him, forcing into him. Hector was burning from the inside, his gut wrenching as he compulsively recounted every disgusting moment of the evening before. He’d already vomited on the way home, having to seize a nearby trash can just outside the metro station. No one had been around to see, thankfully. He’d also wailed inside the privacy of a bathysphere, nearly passing out from the excretion it took just to scream. God, he’d screamed. Cohen had finally got it out of him.
He should’ve gone straight to medical. That much was obvious by the chunk of flesh now missing from his shoulder, or the two fingers hanging crookedly off the side of his left hand. He was nearly positive that four or five ribs were broken, too, and he could hardly see out of his right eye. It hurt to breathe. And then there was that awful, shameful burn…
The former disciple continued to lay there in his anguished silence for a while, halfway between consciousness and blissful sleep, the pain enough to prevent that small, direly needed reprieve. He was still bleeding—enough to merit worry. He needed help.
It took the very last of his strength to reach for the phone on the nightstand, and he nearly knocked it over in his fumbling. The former disciple also had to attempt three times to get the number for Harrison’s flat correct, the digits scrambling up in his memory as if to add insult to injury. Laying the receiver on the pillow beside him, Hector then waited anxiously as the line rang, his body still trembling as he curled up against a pillow, all but clinging to it. The call went on unanswered for some time, and had he the energy, he would’ve hung up.
But, as his eyes began to water again, it clicked.
"…Harry…?" he spoke just above a whisper, his voice quietly hoarse and shaking,
"…I-I’m hurt. I…I need your help."
It had proved to be a rather uneventful evening so far, and Harrison was slowly dozing off while wrapping his arms around some broad from the Garden. Ava was in her usual mood, throwing a hissy fit over something that the doctor supposedly did or did not do. Fair enough, people coped in their own damn ways. And since he hadn’t been able to get a hold of Hector that night, he decided that the only cure that he needed, was some mindless twit who happened to bat her eyelashes at him a few times. Christ, did he even know her name? Daddy issues, bourbon, and a collection of cigarettes practically carried her into his bed. Not that it mattered anyways, she was a sub-par lay, and LeCaine made a mental note to not even bother phoning her later on in the week. Her chest rose and fell next to him, her perky breasts catching his attention, though only briefly.
As the phone rang, a few of his facial features turned into a bit of a scowl. Everyone, or at least, most people knew that disturbing the Frenchman this late in the evening was a damn well death wish. “This better be important,” he grumbled, practically knocking the young woman who was curled up to him over. Harrison didn’t even bother apologizing…-
"Oui," he lazily replied, but then squinted and placed a finger to his other ear, trying to hear a little better. The voice on the other end was small and harsh. Normally, LeCaine would have no problem snapping at the disciple and promptly telling him to fuck right off. But the strain in his voice compelled him to at least be civil. That, and the fact that it had been a while since the pair had seen each other. "Hector," he huffed, still a little groggy, "go to Medical if you’re ill. They can pump your stomach better than I can."
You're more than you claim to be, little songbird, are you not?
outofadam: these next two weeks are the weeks of hell. bear with me.
- Aphrodite: What do you find attractive in a partner?
- Apollo: Favourite song?
- Ares: If you had to fight someone in a duel, what would be your weapon of choice?
- Artemis: Favourite animal?
- Athena: Do you have any special talents?
- Demeter: Favourite food?
- Dionysus: Favourite drink?
- Hades: If you could meet a person from history, who would it be and why?
- Hephaestus: If you could learn a skill instantly, what would you choose?
- Hera: Do you want to get married and/or have children?
- Hermes: Where in the world would you most like to visit?
- Hestia: Where do you most want to live?
- Poseidon: If you were shipwrecked on a tropical island, what would you want to have with you?
- Zeus: If you ruled the world, what would you change?