#;percy threads

[narrativeabducted]

@audaciiae // continued

"hm? oh, don't worry! i've taken care of it, most of this blood isn't mine! shame about my glasses!" He pulls them off for a moment, looks at the cracks, shrugs, and places them right back on his face. Should he explain? He really doesn't want to worry Victor too terribly. With a hum, he says, "oh, it wasn't anything, victor, really, someone had come up here but i took care of it! did you sleep well?"

His expression softens, just a little bit.

"we won't be able to use much of him i'm afraid, but most of the organs are still in tact, i'd imagine! perhaps we could use some of those." Percy hates to let anything go to waste. And to get rid of the body that was currently residing in the other room Percy was sure he'd have to dismember it. He didn't see how else he'd get it out of here without someone seeing.

Percy clucks his tongue and leans over, once again pressing a light kiss to Victor's lips.

"i'll take care of it, victor. don't worry even a little!"

[anend1ng]

@radiotyrant // continued

It wasn't that Percy enjoyed this. That would be a lie. Percy did not care for the capturing and what could easily be considered torture of those whom he found who could survive radiation sickness. He didn't abhor it, though, either. No, it was something else entirely. Percy was simply... Indifferent to it. It was messy, foul work, but it was work that needed to be done. There was lots of work that needed to be done to keep people alive, you have to understand this.

Percy Carrard had two main priorities left in life. Keeping his dear friend, Henri Voltiere alive was the first and finding a way to cure radiation sickness as a whole was second. Henri was first, as he always would be, because they were the most dear of companions, or... They had been, until Henri's mind left him. Still, he remained at the top of the list without question. Due to the way his mind was now, though, Henri was wont to wander off when Percy or Percy's travelling companion could not keep an eye on him, and there was plenty of danger to wander into. Thus, the need to be able to cure radiation sickness.

When he crossed the second thing off his to-do list, the third thing, by default of course, was to find a way to reproduce the anti-psychotics Henri had been taking prior to this mess to bring his friend back to him. How Percy hated that that had to be so low on his list of priorities, he knew Henri was suffering, his heart ached with each cry that came from his lips but... But if Henri were to become sick from the fallout that rested around every corner, Percy was not sure he'd recover. It was all such a mess.

The man, the patient he currently had, was an interesting case, at least. Percy wasn't sure what he was. Inhuman, that was clear, but of what type of inhuman, he hadn't yet been able to decipher. How odd, too, that the patient had started to change, physically change, as he recovered. All very interesting, all things that Percy noted down, all things that he took into careful consideration as he pondered over just what to do next.

It had been two and a half weeks, and the patient was recovering. Although it took longer than what Percy would have liked, he still had recovered-- with minimal intervention at that. Most of the time Percy would have tried to feed him, but the still healing bite wound on his arm was enough to put him off of doing that. Still! The patient survived. It was impressive. Percy needed to know more.

The doctor had precious few supplies to work with, many of which he was employing now. The surgical scrubs and cloth mask that covered his face could at least be washed and reused. So could the cap he wore over his messy, dark hair. His cracked glasses obscured his dark blue eyes, leading to an all around otherworldly appearance.

"s'il vous plaît, aidez-moi ! je vous ai voué ma vie — et je le ferais encore; s'il vous plaît, ne me laissez pas mourir ici!" The voice from the other room, the broken, strained, wailing voice from the other room. Over and over, and Percy, who cannot not be pained by his dear friend's distress, glances away from the patient and towards the adjacent room, separated by walls, tarps, and little else.

The voice keeps on begging for help, and Percy forces himself to focus on the task at hand. Until his travelling companion returns, Henri will have to wait until this procedure is complete. The procedure is for Henri in the end, after all.

He watches the patient with a clinical eye, watches him struggle, listens to what he has to say, and feels only the indifference of someone who needs to do something unpleasant and has given up resisting the work ahead. There is a wheeling tray that holds surgical instruments on it, which Percy pulls alongside him as he approaches the patient, frowning under his mask at him.

"this will be far easier if you don't struggle, you understand." He speaks in the one of someone practiced, someone who has done this, someone who is resigned to their work. One gloved hand picks up a pair of scissors, the other pull Alastor's shirt up slightly, and then Percy begins to cut through the fabric with practiced ease.

In some ways, at least in tone and in some other way Percy can't yet place, Alastor reminds him of his travelling companion. He squints a little, trying to put his finger on it. "i can't sedate you for this process, i don't have much left in stock."

It isn't an apology, it's simply informative. His voice carries accent, French, just like the words being now sobbed out in the next room over.

"i will try and be quick about this. but it will be easier for us both if you, ah... do not struggle. yes?"

[narrativefinale]

open rp // percy carrard

He's doubled over, wheezing and coughing into his hand. When he stands right again, his hand is spattered with thick, clotted blood. Percy wrinkles his nose in annoyance, pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and begins to wipe his hands off, shaking his head as he does.

[techncmancer]

@videodoomed // plotted

It's dark when he wakes up, save for the intense blue glow of something nearby. There is no hum of electricity, not from the light source, not from anywhere. Percy Carrard knew that Anomaly could travel through phone lines, if they were close enough. It reasoned that their... 'boss' could do the same, and probably on a grander scale, though Anomaly had never mentioned that to him.

Percy wasn't keen on allowing his captive such an easy out, however. No. There would be no out until he got exactly what he wanted out of this. And it wasn't scientific curiosity that drove him forward, not this time.

"ah! so you are awake!" Exclaimed with a soft sigh and the movement of the light source. First up, and then closer.

"you understand, i was rather unsure how someone like you would synthesize chloroform, if it would even work on you! turns out, it works! well, even." here is no seeing past the mask of light, but it feels like, sounds like there is a smile.

"it truly is a pleasure to meet you, though!" The voice is bright like the visor of the mask-- which can be seen to be, indeed, a mask once he gets closer-- and slightly feminine in tone. Heavily accented; French. "i will make this a simple encounter, if you cooperate."

Vincent's wrists, ankles, and throat have been strapped down to what feels like a cold, metal table. Whatever is holding him in place is thick and hard and plastic feeling.

"i have a simple request, you see! if you agree to it now, you save me time and effort, and yourself plenty of pain..." He trails off, giggling. "but! make no mistake! you will agree to my request. one way or the other, no matter how long it takes."

[narrativefinale]

@lifestilled // plotted

He knew it would be soon, based on he days he tracked in a scrawled calendar in his journal. He didn't dare write in the journal what he was tracking, just marked it with a single black, filled in circle when he thought it was due to arrive. It was a day past when he had calculated, but it wasn't always entirely accurate.

Still, Percy knew it would be soon. He could tell from the aching in his stomach and back, the way he felt entirely out of control of his emotions... Even more than usual, that was. And the pounding headache that plagued him the whole day prior and into the late evening when he finally arrived back at Basil's home.

(Was it, in part, his home now, too? Percy didn't dare assume that, even if he technically lived there.)

He'd gotten in, but hadn't bothered to go further off to his tiny room, too exhausted from the evening's adventures, in too much pain to keep his eyes open long enough to go anywhere other than a couch. He supposed he'd rest until the sun touched on the horizon, wherein he'd wake from the light. He almost always did.

Percy shut his eyes and lays back, takes a deep breath or two, and is almost as soon asleep as the second breath lets out.

When morning does come, the sun doesn't wake Percy. He's far too deep in sleep, far too deep in a dream. Under neath him, his pants are stained red, and that too has bled into the couch.

[narrativefinale]

@audaciiae saw confusion

It's written clearly on Percy's face. His brow furrowed, his lips drawn up in the same pout he gets when he's trying to work out something particularly difficult to understand to his research.

Only nothing that strange has happened. They aren't even down in their lab, Percy is just cooking dinner. He continues to stare at the pan in his hand for a moment before shaking his head and continuing on to the stove.

"do you ever get de ja vu?" He asks, half-smiling.

[narrativeabducted]

@reverdies // one liner

"well, i'm not much of a poet, but i still enjoy it!"

[narrativeabducted]

@audaciiae // plotted. Schemed, even.

It had taken two hours for Captain Robert Walton to convince Percy to leave go of Victor after the man had taken his final breath. In hindsight, Percy knew that had been ridiculous. He should have gone straight into action, not sat around feeling sad and sorry for himself. That was precious time lost. He would make up for it.

This was different than their original project. Different because Victor was whole, and besides the illness that had been his final demise, in fairly good condition. Percy didn't need to replace much. The lungs. He'd have to get new lungs. Not a problem. He could find new lungs.

The only problem was the location. They were near the Arctic circle, nowhere near any of the lab equipment. Percy didn't want to delay anything, not for a minute, but he also knew this had to be perfect. It had to be even better than everything they'd done previous. There could be no mistakes. Not a single one.

Percy wandered out onto the deck of the ship where the crew looked on him with pity he didn't appreciate. Some of them were chipping ice off the deck. It couldn't be more perfect. Ice. Preservation.

He tells the captain what he wants to do. At least... Tells him the basics. That freezing Victor's body would keep it preserved enough so they could get back to shore and allow what little remained of the Frankenstein's to bury him. And he wouldn't stink up the ship. Thus, Percy was allowed to proceed, uninterrupted, in keeping Victor's body on ice. It was morbid. Perhaps even disgusting, to some. The crew seemed wary of him then.

Percy hardly blamed them. He could feel himself slipping. That horrible, clawing feeling of the madness he inherited from his mother creeping up on him. He wasn't sleeping, only staying there, next to Victor's body, looking through his various notebooks. He wasn't eating. Only pacing around and writing feverishly as he did. Once or twice he may have passed out. He wasn't sure. Either he wasn't out for long enough for someone to come upon him or they were all too uneasy by his sudden temperament that they didn't dare bother him.

Once they were upon solid ground again, Walton offered to help Percy secure passage back to Geneva. Percy accepted the help. So long as said passage could be done with Victor kept cold. Perhaps Walton found that odd, but didn't say much about it. Only agreed that it could be arranged. And so it was.

It isn't to Victor's old home Percy tells the man with the horse and carriage with it to take them though. It's to his and Victor's shared home. Also in Geneva, yes but. Not where Walton would expect him to go maybe but it doesn't matter. Nothing much seemed to matter. Not to Percy. Not then. Maybe not ever again if this didn't work. Percy sits in the back of the carriage with Victor for the several days long trip, cold almost beyond reason but refusing to sit anywhere warm. He had to make sure the body remained cold until he could be saved.

Once back in Geneva, Percy declines the offer to have the man who took them to help him get Victor inside. Then, rethinks. Looks him over. And accepts the help. It's unfortunate, but Percy needed the lungs. Freshest tissue was best.

That business is taken care of easily and quickly.

He works with the lungs on ice for the next few days while Victor thaws out. In this time Percy breaks a couple of windows and every mirror in the house. His hands are covered in cuts but bandaged and gloves put on over them when he makes the incision on Victor's chest. Another unfortunate thing, the scar would be, but Victor would breath easier when it was all said and done. That was the main priority. New lungs are implanted where old, ruined ones once were. New and perfect.

Percy stitches Victor back together with tears in his eyes that he ignores. He feels so detached, so incredibly away from himself as he does this. He talks to himself through it. He talks to Victor through it, too, but Victor never gives any answers. Funny that.

When the moment comes and goes in which life is brought back from death, Percy is standing by, watching. Silent as the storm continues onwards outside. Silent as the seconds pass on. Seconds turn to a minute. In a panic, Percy throws his watch against the wall and contemplates throwing himself out the already broken window.

"Victor," he says, his voice weak and raspy. He can't remember the last time he's eaten, let alone managed to drink any water. He'll deal with that later. He pleads softly, "Victor, please do wake up. I would not call this anticipation particularly thrilling, you understand."