open! here’s an open, your muse is in a train that crashed(?) alongside TK, either they can be injured and he can look after them ooooor they can be not-too-badly-injured and he can tell them “i need another set of hands get up and start helping”
This was a strange sensation to wake up with mostly because he was used, typically, to being right-side up. There was a smell of something, metal torn free from its mechanics (oil?) or blood or maybe both of those things, and a creaking of something not quite hanging on – the overhead light, TK realised. It had come free and was now trying to come to rest on the side of the cabin (a train – that’s right; he was on a train), because the cabin was sideways. The light tried very hard to stay on. It flickered and intermittently died, and in a minute whatever electricity source it was using was going to be cut, if emergency services were headed this way. They’d be in the dark again.
Someone was crying. TK, thrown to where he’d landed, was bleeding. He didn’t move at first, a quick self-assessment for the time being (like being hurt might keep him down; it would not have). The smell of blood was so strong and so vibrant here because he’d hit his head pretty hard, almost definitely hard enough to cause concussion just based on the width and depth of the injury when TK pressed a hand against it, wincing, looking for sponginess around his skull. Nothing. Intact, just sore. The blood, from somewhere near the crown of his head, dripped down his face and along his left arm, which itself was - sprained, maybe?
He’d been holding on with that arm, to the strap in the cabin when the train had come free from the tracks.
His leg, the right one, was fractured, but he could feel it, it was not close to the femoral artery, and when he moved his toes he watched them wriggle. No tingles. Probably no spinal damage.
Okay, so pretty good, on the whole of it. His phone next: completely destroyed. There was something - the material of a seat? - across his chest, and TK pushed it off, blinking against the bright of the light which seemed to get brighter when he sat up (concussion, definitely). There was crying, he remembered.
The first person TK came to was still.
TK passed over her body (“Okay,” he tapped her ankle twice, and that was all the processing he afforded it: okay), and in the direction of the cries.
“Hello?” his voice sounded strange. Cleared his throat and tried again. How many people had been in this cabin to begin with? Twenty, thirty? And that was not to mention the rest of the train, but he had no way of getting to them, for now. Maybe he’d try, once this cabin was looked after, if he was still able to drag himself, then. “I’m a paramedic, if you can hear me, yell out!”