(Continued from here!)
@archerwhiterp :
The storm had done some damage all along the river's banks. The town built around the bridge struggled with fallen trees and debris piling up on their banks. Some thought they had seen a person being swept away down stream. Archer and a few townsfolk had run down to help, but after bearing down the storm for so long the rest had fled. Leaving only the Alchemist trudging through lightning and heavy rain for a person who may just as well be a corpse at this point.
He pulled his coat closer to his face and shuffled water off his shoulders. His eyes glued to the rocky and tumultuous waves for anything that could be a person.
He saw it! A shimmer of something! A hand outstretched! In the dark it was hard to see but he definitely saw a hand waving. Maybe he even heard someone calling out. Or he was being hopeful. If a person could scream they were alive.
"I'M COMING!" He called as if they could hear him that far in the water. Running carefully down the bank he slipped in the mud and tumbled the rest of the way down until he hit the shore. He groaned and flicked it off him as he stood again. Watching the waves for the person he thought he saw but they were gone.
He cursed softly and began to follow the water more closely. Eyes darting at every dark corner and fallen log. Down the bank it seemed the water slowed just a bit. Enough to purse around a rather large fallen tree. Near it he saw a moving figure, shivering in the darkness. It was them!
He ran towards him, ripping his pack off his shoulders and slinging his coat off along with it. Careful to keep his arms still covered by his shirt sleeves and gloves. "It's alright friend. You're safe now." He spoke loudly, clearly, not sure what kind of trauma his new patient had suffered.
As soon as he came upon him he carefully draped his coat over his form. His hands hovered, wanting to grasp him but knowing better. "Are you injured? Can you move? Can you-"
He paused and blinked a few times in surprise. This face. He knew this face. "You're... You're Oliver's friend aren't you? Skipper?" Crap he was terrible at names. That didn't feel right but it was close enough. "Let me have a look at you.”
Despite his supposed resignation Skitter flinched at the loud voice, barely able to process the words. He flinched again at the first touch of something against his back, arms curling around his chest in meager protection, clumsy with the cold. He wanted to stand, to scramble away or fight, but he didn’t have the strength.
The last thing he’d expected was for the touch to bring warmth. He curled into it without thinking, ducking his head and drawing his legs up under the fabric that had been draped over him as best he could.
The voice was still talking. Now that he’d had time to listen properly, it didn’t sound like the tones he’d come to associate with captivity. It was more like how the little red-haired man tended to talk. And Skitter wasn’t being attacked or even restrained. Yet.
He managed to turn his head, squinting up at the person hovering over him. That was… oh. It was someone safe; the man that the… that Oscar had insisted on saving.
Skitter didn’t exactly relax, but the dread in his chest eased by just a notch. He frowned and made a more concerted effort to parse what the man was saying. It was normally easier, but he felt like he was on the edge of sleep, like his thoughts were swimming through sludge.
“…friend,” he echoed, because Oscar used that word a lot so he probably should too, with people who treated Oscar well. Maybe it would transfer. His voice scraped in his throat. “Yes.” Skitter wished he hadn’t taken so long to start listening properly; the man talked so quickly. “…what?”