my body is wearing thin

I'll R I S E and I'll F A L L ( again ) F i g h t i n g off the VIOLENCE in my ❝ cold skin ❞ Our BODIES wearing t h i n My FEARS tell me I'll never WIN. = RAY WILDER. = 33. Trauma Surgeon. Werewolf.

[skeletvl]

diana-thorn.

The explosion had scared her, brought her back to her childhood. One moment she was at the scene, the next she was lost in time again. But before she knew it she was in the middle of the main street, tears streaming down her face as she let out a scream. She couldn’t go back there- she couldn’t go back in time again. “Make it stop!” She cried out, her hands covering her face as she fell to her knees not yet realizing she was back. A person came to rush at her and she let out a violent scream, pushing them away. “Don’t!” Once she came to, she looked up at the person like a lost child. “I… I’m sorry.” She breathed, trying to catch herself once she realized where she was. 

Screaming wasn’t something that was unheard of, around them there were mothers calling for children, there were husbands looking for wives, and all orders of family looking for others among coughing and wailing of sirens. And Ray was somewhere in the middle, directing and tending to patients. He had a beanie pulled over his head, the EMTs had tossing him gloves and a stethoscope, he’d already begun directing people to a medical tent. He needed to get back to the hospital, but right now directing was half the battle. His pager was going off nonstop and he’d tuned it out. He was used to on-site trauma as much as the next person, he’d taken a lot of internships after medical school trying to find his best route. As she came to, he looked at her. “Don’t be.” She didn’t appear to be in the fire. “Are you alright, were you in the fire?”

[skeletvl]

winnycunningham.

@skeletvl

The lights on her tree blinked in the weak morning light. Winny kept the throw blanket wrapped tightly over her shoulders. She sat upright on the couch, so that Ray had room. Quincy was still asleep, and would be for the next few hours. They didn’t smell like smoke anymore. It was a few days since the fire happened, but it felt like it happened just a few hours ago. She kept the TV off to avoid having to listen to the reports. They kept getting the numbers wrong. There were more injuries than death, but they said the opposite. They still had family members calling the hospital with descriptions of loved ones. Winny examined her nails. “When I slipped, I told myself that it wasn’t all that bad if it was safer here. I’m starting to realize that it was stupid,” at the bitterness in her voice she paused, then pointed to her mantle. “The ornament up there is yours. Quincy made it.”

He had dabbled in quantum physics for only a short time -- he had been dating a girl who was a whiz at it in undergrad, and had read a few books. Ray wasn’t stupid by any stretch of the imagination, but he certainly felt out of his league at some of the other understanding. He was thinking of this as he huddled on her couch. His own apartment was too empty, especially around this season, so he often found himself bouncing between Winny’s and Trent’s couch on his odd off hours. His head tilted to her at her words and he shook his head. “It’s not stupid. I thought being here, where people knew what I was, where I didn’t have to chain myself in the basement of a warehouse... maybe work on some genetic research -- I thought this place would let me do that.” As his eyes traced to the ornament, he smiled. “That right there, that’s proof to me it’s better here. I got two kids that like me here. Didn’t have that on the other side. I can’t... think like that anymore. The negativity.” Ray paused, listening to Quincey’s heartbeat in the back room for a moment. “We come so close to death every day, I just gotta think of the good things. Like the fact that a kid likes me enough to make me an ornament. That’s special. If I was home, I’d just be picking up extra shifts at the hospital to avoid going to an empty apartment. My mom was all that was left, and she moved. Someplace sunny and warm. Used to get a postcard. No number. Just -- thinking of you. And I guess she earned that.”

[skeletvl]

tessaclarke.

She couldn’t remember what happened. She was thinking that it was for the best - from what she had been told, she had looked like Death had walked her over. It wasn’t the fact that it could have been a brush with death that scared her, it was the fact that she didn’t know. Who, or how, or why, or anything else that could possibly be thought of. She had answered what questions she could, not that it had made any difference, and then she had quietly snuck out of the hospital and went back to her apartment. She had hidden away from the world, answering only what texts and calls that she had to as she lay in bed, binge watching Stranger Things all over again. Maybe it had been the demogorgon that had gotten her. 

As much as she wished to stay in bed, the world had other plans for her, and she had left her apartment with the prickling feeling between her shoulder blades that made her feel as though someone was watching her. She flinched, bodily, as the car next to her backfired, and a moment later she managed to laugh at herself. “I’m an idiot.”

Ray still smelled like smoke. He had already showered a few times, but could still smell it, it seemed to cling to him. Originally he was just there to look after Maddox and Trent and meet up with Winny and maybe Quincy. It ended up with him barely getting a mug of cider before the place erupted into flames. Trent and himself were trained to be calm in emergency. Trent ran into the fire and Ray immediately began to organize and treat. He needed to get groceries, and become something of an adult instead of a walking zombie slash trauma surgeon. As the same wolf he met in the bar flinched at car backfiring, he felt his own wolf sluggishly jerk to attention. Both man and beast were tired, it seemed. “No, just a little jumpy. If I was little more bright eyed and bushy, I probably would have flinched too. I’d suggest lavender oil. Rub it on your feet before bed, helps take the edge off.”

[skeletvl]

iseabailmcgillivray.

Her temper was flaring. There was something about the way that she was being treated that was pushing her the wrong way. She could take care of herself - she had been drinking the same amount since she was sixteen, and she had been looking out for herself for the same amount of time. She knew how to take care of herself. “Well I guess I’ll see you there, then, since you seem to know everything.” She pulled the dart back with a flash of her hydrokinesis, wrapping the dart in a ball of water and pulling it back to her with precision before she jammed it point down into the counter. She moved to the end of the bar, reaching behind the counter and snagging the whiskey, pouring herself a glassful.

“I’ll be the one in scrubs,” was his only response. The little witch just all the more reminded him of his sister. The difference was that something had very likely happened to this one, whereas his sister created her own tragedy. Maybe that was what was chiding against him. Maybe he just didn’t want another tragedy on his hands, he played God all too often. Some people did stupid things, some people had bad things happen to them, but either way they ended up in his hands. Wrong moves on his end meant death on theirs. He was aware of what alcohol did. He had the scars to prove it. He had the smudge on his father’s record in attempt to cover it. It was why he now took cabs or paid someone to drive him home when he had a drink or more. That drink isn’t going to fill that hole in you.

[skeletvl]

rowenadryer.

Word travelled fast, but Rowena had a way of avoiding the news. It was not the mayor’s death that bothered her so much as the circumstances and whispers of wolfsbane. With all the years stretched out in front of her, she found herself and those she cared for too close to wolfsbane for comfort. This place was supposed to be different for them, for the werewolves she and her kind somehow had a hand in bringing into existence. She took to Voodoo Moon when her spirit wavered. As the bartender placed her glass on the countertop, she stared at her hands.

“You alright?” the man next to her asked. She could sense what he was as soon as she got a look at his eyes. Years of being like him made the own wolf trapped under her skin come to attention. She could feel its breath down her neck.

“Just lost in thought, and I believe I should be asking that, you look like you haven’t slept in days,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I’m Rowena. Who might you be?”

“I don’t even know what sleep is,” Ray admitted with a laugh. It was true, he wasn’t exactly sure when he had a full eight hours of sleep, and even now when the odd chance presented himself he found himself laying in bed and staring at the ceiling. There was a lot of energy to him, energy that hated being idle, energy that was put to use to research when he wasn’t working, or bothering Trent and Mads. The wolf under his skin brushed against his ribs, its own way of saying who was a wolf and who wasn’t. “Rowena. Great name. I’m Ray.” He held his hand out for her shake, a soft smile on his lips.

[skeletvl]

winnycunningham.

It was her first night back from the weekend, and she was two hours away from going home. Three hours away from sleep. The idea of a warm breakdast and a warmer bed had her yawning, and she needed to power through. The early days of nursing were easier. With Quincy still not sleeping straight through the night she had practice with weird schedules. Now that he was older and on a regular schedule, she felt her shifts more. The weariness settled deep into her bones without the right precautions. She slipped away to make coffee when she rembered that Ray was on the clock. The code she heard earlier in the night told her that it was not going without a hitch for him. For that reason, she shuffled through the hallways, head ducked to avoid being trapped by a worried family member or training nurse.

She checked the lock by giving it a light jiggle. As it opened with a light creak, she held the coffee between them as peace offering. Ray’s eyes remained shut. Winny let the scent of the coffee waft a few inches under his nose. “Who else would I deliver coffee to at this hour?” she asked with a quizzical look. “They replaced the k-cups, so I can’t promise that it doesn’t taste like actual tar. But I tried.”

“They never let us have nice things,” Ray said with a yawn and reached for the cup. “But tar’ll do. At least it’ll wake me up.” And it did, loosely, taste like tar. The bitter edge made his eyes flutter open a bit more as he internally scrunched his nose in distaste. Externally he was too tired to expend the energy for such an action. He took another pull from the mug and gestured to his side, and invitation to sit. Coffee meant there was no rush. Silent pager meant he was safe for a few moments to take his time on enjoying a cup of coffee that was actually really unenjoyable in taste. Shifting he looked up at her, “How’d your night go?”

His was shit, as it usually was. Though, he usually just tried to block that out and focus on the good parts of the night, if there were any. Tonight would be focusing on the fact that someone cared enough to bring him coffee. It dredged up old memories of a woman from a past life that was now happily married. He remembered seeing the engagement announcement in the paper. Another life, another life he’d be the guy that more revolved around a family instead of trauma. “Did you get the note that we’re doing a charity event this year?”

[skeletvl]

solomonxkim.

Solomon turned his head at the question to the pool tables beyond. He raised a brow at a couple in the corner. Neither of them were playing right. If Liam and Grace were there they would have already been out there trying to get a fourth person so that they could play in teams. “I’m decent at it,” he said, now turning to face the guy next to him. “How about you?” Solomon asked, now grateful to put distance between himself and the bar.

Ray used to play pool as a break between studying. The Student Union Building was right across from the library and it was something that seemed to break studying into something that was equally as much of a mind game but less so than studying. To say he was great at it -- that would come out wrong. “I’ve played a bit. It’s been a minute.” Since medical school -- with a few games here and there. He was decent at darts too. The whole thing reminded him of a little dive bar back in Darmouth that he loved, despite the fact that Voodoo Moon was completely different. “I’m Ray, by the way.”

[skeletvl]

leelana.

“Mm,” Lana hummed, nodding her head. “Sure, darts would be great.” She gulped down the rest of her drink, wiping her mouth the back of her hand. She motioned to the bartender for another, rising her place at the bar to head towards the darts. “So do you see grief often in your day-to-day?” Because Lana couldn’t say she did. Maybe once upon a time, in her hunter days. The werewolves weren’t exactly jumping with joy when she showed, guns and knives blazing – but she didn’t want to think about that right now. She took another sip of her drink when the bartender gave it to her. 

He was the one that they went to when there was a slim chance for survival. In some ways -- there could have been a sort of arrogance there. Something of the best when it came to emergencies. Calm head paired with deft hands. He shook some of the emotions away. “I might get a day off from it, if I’m lucky. If all the stars and moon align just right.” The fact was, the hospital saw dozens of patients each day -- drug overdose, car accident, gun shot wounds, knife wounds, cardiac arrest, and in the trauma unit he was the attending. He saw it all. He was supposed to take pride that the moment they stepped into his care, they had a 18% better chance of surviving. He didn’t. “What about you?” He picked up the dart, pushed a fin back into place, and then handed it her. Ladies first.

[skeletvl]

priscillagrayfield.

It was a general rule of thumb (or at least, it was to Priscilla) that if you worked in a certain bar, that was the last bar on earth you wanted to spend your night off.  Besides, she didn’t exactly fancy the notion of sitting somewhere surrounded by her own kind.  She was a social butterfly and got kicks out of mingling with others.  

She had been sitting at the bar for what seemed like forever and was beginning to get rather bored.  With a leg crossed over the other, Priscilla wiggled her stilettoed foot with a wine glass in hand.  Brown orbs peered into the rim of the Bordeaux glass, watching the red liquid move as she swirled the glass.

Lost in her own world, the sudden sound of a male’s voice pierced the vampire’s ear, catching her attention and causing her to tear her gaze from the contents of her glass.  With her eyes now fixated upon the countenance of the man seated next to her, the brunette examined the features that were set her direction.  With a quiet hum of consideration, the female turned her body toward the male.

“Oh, I’m just peachy.  However you,” her red brims were now turning upward as she offered him a smile, “look a little bit beat up.  Rough day?”

Ray never held any ill will toward others. Even those who had purposely attempted to do him wrong, and those that had succeeded. There was always a sort of unease that came with the tensions between werewolf and vampire, and understanding that both could be potentially lethal to each other, but that was not the type of person that Ray was. He was, rather gentle, as some people said. Instead, he was curious why it was the vampire decided to mingle with wolves who not be as gentle as him -- the confidence was interesting. He was interested. Mostly in the mechanics and not in much else. He was far too damaged and far too old to be distracted by their allure.

He shrugged. Every day was something of a beat down with victories sprinkled in. In this city, there was never an slow day in trauma. It was just as busy as Portland, as New York when he spent a summer there for a seminar at one of the best trauma centers in the world. He was, essentially, tired. It was something that a good nights sleep could cure but he rarely got that. “Long shift. No worse than usual.” It was amazing the damage someone could do to someone else’s body and how much the spirit would fight.

[skeletvl]

solomonxkim.

Solomon was aware he was in a foul mood. He felt it before the hunt, and now that it was over he still it. The hunt itself went well. They usually did when it was just him. What left him in a foul mood was that the vampires weren’t them. They never were. He wanted a drink. He knew it as soon as he slipped into back, which was strange in a way because alcohol was never his poison. As he stared at the menu, something kept him from actually ordering a drink. The sound of another person’s voice gave him something else to think about. “I’ve been worse,” he said with a wave. “What about you?”

Ray came into contact with all sorts of people. In whatever way, he was rather good at now seeing the demons that danced behind people’s eyes. Just as there was a hesitancy for the guy before him to drink. He wanted to say, then don’t. Instead, Ray placed his own glass away from them and nodded. “I think the same saying goes for me, been worse but also been a lot better. You any good at pool?” Because Ray was exactly a little bit good at pool. Darts was where he flexed his supreme power.

[skeletvl]

trentxwalker.

“About as well as anyone can expect her to be.” He said the words with a grim smile, tapping his bottle against the bar. He wished that he could say differently, but he couldn’t expect any differently. The loss of her mother was something far too great for her to recover from in any manner of time, let alone in two years filled with moving and adjusting to a new town and a new life with the father that had been markedly absent in her formative years. “Is that really how you want to spend your free weekend? With an unhappy eight year old?” He couldn’t deny that the thought of being able to quietly and thoroughly go to pieces while grieving over his dead wife would give him a piece of mind that he didn’t have - but he knew what Maddox was like in her moods. “She’s a handful. And I’m sure you could use some rest.” 

“Unhappy eight year old, unhappy thirty-three year old, what’s the difference? The difference is one of us can drive and take the other to Jazzland. One of us can also adopt thirty puppies and not have to reap the consequences. Actually, both of us can,” Ray said with a nod of his head and a laugh. If he was home more, he’d have a dog. But right now he didn’t even have a roommate to take care of the dog so, it didn’t happen. “I mean, it’s hard to be unhappy at Jazzland, and if not, we can sulk together.” Ray actually liked kids. A lot, if he was honest. He wanted a family and kids, he just could put his job second just yet. 

[skeletvl]

tessaclarke.

“What?” She asked, hardly registering the words, before she did, and she faked a smile. “Oh, yeah, yeah. Totally fine.” She kept the smile plastered on her lips, taking a sip of her drink and cringing as the taste of the whiskey hit her tongue. She wasn’t a drinker. She never really had been, and it was a mark of how down she was that she couldn’t find it in herself to cope in many other ways other than trying to dull the confusion by drinking.

He could tell from the way his wolf curled around his ribs that she was one of them -- if not from the sweet undertone of her scent. The wolf brushed against his ribcage like a cat, rubbing its head, giving him a fluttering in his chest. He usually felt this way around other wolves. Like he was finally home. His wrists bore slight scars from years of chaining himself on the full moon, pinpricks of wolfsbane to weaken himself. “You don’t drink much do you?” He could tell by the way she was gripping the glass like she was hoping the poison would take the edge off -- and then the tell tale face at the bite. “You shouldn’t have started with whiskey. Sweeter drinks are better, plus no one will judge you if you have something colorful.”

[skeletvl]

iseabailmcgillivray.

She squinted at his thoughts, her lips curling into a wry smile. He underestimated her. He underestimated the weight of her demons and the pain that she carried just underneath her chest, in her ribcage, burning her with every thump of her heart. “Should I take that as an insult?” She asked, no trace of slurring in her words as she snagged the shot off of the bar and downed it, no trace of flinching in her features as she plucked a dart from his hand and turned, sending it point first into the bullseye of the board. “I’ve never once ended up in the hospital. Doctor.” Maybe it was that her temper was stretched thin. Maybe it was that she felt like she had something to prove. She could take care of herself - she was all that she had.

Ray wasn’t in the mood to fight. He had spent too many long years fighting his sister, fighting to keep her on this earth, and he learned one thing from that: eventually everything comes crashing down. Tragedy came in different strands, it came in laughing in the shower with someone you love, to two days later knowing she’s in love with someone else -- and you can’t be that guy. It comes in blood on latex gloves, not realized that you’re crying, it comes in shattered glass, and seeing the fear on your father’s face. It came in hearing mother’s wailing over their children. It came in telling people bad news over and over again. “Take it however you want.” He wasn’t surprised she could play darts, probably better than him. His sister was better at him at a lot of things. “Yet.” He mused. His sister only ended up in the hospital twice. One time was all it took to be lethal. He took a sip of the liquor in his hand. 

[skeletvl]

leelana.

It was her mother’s birthday, and so, consequently, Lana was sad. Her mother’s birthday had always been an ordeal in her household, and it was only because her father – obsessed with going all-out with people’s birthdays – made it so. It was always a family celebration, and thinking about how she couldn’t be there in person to hug her mother, give her a quick peck on the cheek, and say Happy birthday! made her sadder than it probably should have. So, she found herself at the bar, wanting to just drink some, play some pool, maybe a game of darts, and just not think about it. Because then it would be tomorrow, and then the next day, and her life would go back to it’s now new normal. “I’m fine,” she said, though she wasn’t sure how well her smile reached her eyes. “Do I not look it?”

Trapped between the folds of this reality, and all the others, they were tucked away. He was aware that he was something of hunted outside this space. He felt like he could breathe for the first time in a long time. He felt like he could move on for the first time in forever. He was well versed in grief. Ray was accustomed to the sounds of wails echoing through hallways. He’d seen a thousand hearts shatter, unable to comprehend that someone that was loved was now gone. “Not really,” he gave her a hint of a smile. “It’s hard to hid grief when you’ve seen it a lot.” His head tilted to the stool next to him. “I’m tired of seeing people in pain, you wanna throw darts after this drink?”

[skeletvl]

trentxwalker.

“Couldn’t be better.” He said as he clapped his hand onto Ray’s shoulder, free hand still wrapped around his beer. He wished he was drunk, but he had about enough time to get through one beer before he was due to pick Maddox up. She had been in a mood that morning - she had been for almost a week. He couldn’t blame her. It was the second anniversary of losing her mother, or it had been, on the thirteenth, and he had been suffering as much as she had. But she was the one to fall apart, and he had to keep himself together to give her the opportunity to try and cope. “Well, I could be. But could and being able to are two entirely different things.” 

“How’s my little girl?” Maddox was something of a stand-in daughter for Ray. Or maybe he was a stand-in uncle.To say that Ray loved kids was an understatement. All he had ever wanted was a family, but he was in no position to be the kind of father or husband that someone deserved. They deserved all his attention, a steady schedule, and right now, he was composed of a pager that interrupted everything. He had been close before, twice, actually. The splits were amicable -- the understanding that he couldn’t provide what they needed just then. “If you need me to babysit, I have been promised a weekend here shortly, pager-less. We could do Jazzland or something. Get her in a better mood and get you a moment to grieve.”

[skeletvl]

iseabailmcgillivray.

“Peachy.” The words were said with too much enthusiasm, the excited squeals of someone who was seven shots and a line or two in. She’d had a bad night the night before - too many dreams and memories that made her want to drown herself, and not in alcohol - for real. But she had coped the way that she always had. By getting so drunk that she could hardly stand. She was leaned against the bar, fingers wrapped around the shot that she was about to take. “Why? Do I not look peachy?” She asked, her voice lowered slightly as she looked over at him, one eyebrow arched.

She looked like he was going to end up having to pump her stomach before the night was over -- but he didn’t say that. Instead he just looked away. She reminded him of his sister, and that wound was still fresh -- if he was honest. Which, he wasn’t going to say any of this to her, it wasn’t his place, so he just shrugged. You look like a walking page back to the hospital. Yet, he had never seen her before. So maybe this was her mastery. At least he was here, if shit went south. Almost bitterly, he took a swallow of the liquor. “You look anything but peachy, but that’s none of my business,” his smile was sad and he shook his head. Leave it alone. And he did, moving away from her to pick the darts up. 

[skeletvl]

( @winnycunningham )

Be a good doctor. Be a selfless doctor. Except when it came to sleep. Which is why Ray was huddled in the supply closet, with the lights out. He could only get sleep when he could on shift, and there were a select few nurses who knew where to find him. The kind that knew either to come bearing coffee or come ahead of incoming. His face was pressed against the side of the rack, a makeshift pillow between his skull and the metal. He learned this trick interning -- the oncall rooms were usually occupied. And he really just wanted to sleep. Which meant the remote supply closet was the next best thing.

The door rattled. He smelled coffee and stirred. “Please tell me that’s for me.” His eyes didn’t open. Ray wanted to curl more inside his makeshift pillow. Willing a few more moments of what he would loosely relate to sleep. He had become a master at napping in strange places, an adventurer of the hospital in attempt to find quiet places. Quiet was something that was valued in the bustle of trauma. “If it’s not for me, I’m not waking up, that’s the deal.”