[001 | VIDEO]

[alittlesweptup]

[The video clicks on and the view sways sickeningly for a moment. The small light on the camera does very little to penetrate the darkness of the catacombs under the city. Once it focuses on the man holding the tablet, the light only succeeds in making him look oddly pale and drawn.]

I need medical attention. Sooner rather than later would be nice--

[So maybe it's not just the camera making him look like shit. Charlie shifts, which cues a snarled string of expletives and a jostled camera.]

--or just a hand out of these bloody catacombs. I think my leg's busted.

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video;

[alittlesweptup]

[He closes his eyes and grinds his teeth absently while he works out the directions in his head. It's not exactly the simplest thing in the universe, now is it?]

You've got to go through the sewer. There's an entrance just north of the Hold. Runoff canal, y'cant miss it. There's an entrance about twenty or thirty meters in. Then you've got--

[He pauses, momentarily out of breath. God dammit. Alright, deep breath Cutter.]

--Then you've got something like five right turns, maybe six? It's a good walk. And there's shit down here so I wouldn't come unarmed.

[hymnals]

[He murmurs, half to himself.]

I walk in the Light, and therefore fear no darkness.

[A bit more clearly:] I will come for you as quickly as I can.

[He follows the directions that Charlie specified. It definitely takes him a little time--about twenty minutes, say. But it's obvious when he's nearby, because there's a pool of radiance at his feet as he walks.]

[alittlesweptup]

[Lovely. Sounds like a bloody religious nut. But beggars can't be choosers and given his current position in a dark tunnel with little more than a torch and the light from his tablet keeping the whole dislike of small dark places thing at bay -- well, he's not exactly fit to say anything about it, now is he?]

Thanks, mate.

[So he waits as patiently as he can, swinging the torch beam from one end of the tunnel to the other in an attempt to keep the things crawling about the catacombs at bay while trying to ignore the pain radiating up from his leg. Pounding headache, the taste of chalk in the back of his mouth-- It takes him longer than it ought to register the light approaching from the end of the tunnel. But oh, once he does... so that whole 'walking in light' thing was apparently literal.

Charlie raises a hand in a pained, silent 'hullo.' There's blood soaking into his pant leg.]

[hymnals]

[Adra's eyes flick from Charlie's face to his leg, then back up to meet his eyes again. The man is not in a good situation--but he's not an irreparable situation, either.

The creep and whisper of unkind things in the tunnels has not escaped Adrasteius, which is why he mutters something inaudible as he kneels beside the injured man. A dome-shaped shield rises over the two of them, shimmering brightly with golden light. It should last long enough for him to work.

His voice is mild as he lets a hand hover over the wound; he can feel the damage, if not see it. His palm starts to glow.]

Let's have a look at that leg.

[alittlesweptup]

[The initial dome that rises up makes him go sharp all over, shoulders up and breathing catching.] The hell--

[But whatever Charlie starts to say, he aborts; though it's obvious that the... whatever it is -- Force field? Magic? He mentally skitters away from the idea of the latter with the kind of single minded determination common in humans being faced with the unbelievable. -- doesn't exactly make him comfortable.]

Yeah, all right. You might want to take a look at my head while you're at it. Think I must have banged it up during the-- [Fall? It's a jumbled mess.] --during whatever happened.

[hymnals]

Are you saying that you don't know what happened to you?

[His tone is concerned; worried. Such amnesia is often a sign of serious injury. He sets a warm palm against Charlie's leg, feeling where the bones have broken.]

This might hurt a bit.

[Light envelops the site of injury, and the sensation it produces is a growing warmth that does burn, albeit briefly, like something being purged through holy fire. When the sensation fades, the muscles have knit back together; the bones have mended.]

[alittlesweptup]

It's all a bit... [Fuzzy isn't the right word for it whatsoever. No, he's got a very clear picture of the ground rushing up at him, of the snap and the reeling agony afterward, and of popping back here like he never left, just this time with a goddamn shattered leg.

So he doesn't bother finishing the sentence and instead braces himself for the hurt of splinting the leg or setting the bone or whatever it is the -- elf? intends to do. The hot white pain that sears up the length of his leg makes his jaw clench, makes him grind his teeth. Charlie heaves out the breath he was holding as it subsides and--]

Blimey, would you look at that. [He turns his ankle experimentally.] You're handier than a pocket on a shirt, mate.