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discedo_logs2009-10-22 04:09 pm
dontcallmegol.livejournal.com) wrote in discedo_logs2009-10-22 04:09 pm
Entry tags:
♠ I Was Pretending to be Floating Strong ♠ WITH LESS FAIL
Who: Ace (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dontcallmegol) and Sanji (baratiesbest)
Where: The Wharf
When: Afternoon, Oct 22. (In Progress)
Rating: PG-13 for language?
Summary: After finding out about Anemone and Ace, Sanji finds himself looking for Ace again, they needed to talk.
the log:
Ace was propped somewhere inside one of many buildings near the Wharf, panting softly at the discomfort he was in and fighting off the urge to puke. He was doing his best to clean his wounds and changing the bandages on them. But he honestly wasn't familiar with doing this sort of thing, not to himself anyway. Other than the wounds he'd sustained before Impel Down, he'd never been beaten to this extent, at least, not for years. The pain he could manage, the blood was nothing, the stiffness and sickness given in exchange for it all was still something he'd have to get used to. This was a hell of a lot more difficult than he imagined, how hard could it have been to treat oneself? He'd seen it done, had a gist, but when moving alone made your head spin, body ache and stomach rebel, well... it became a lot more difficult.
Things had honestly gotten worse over the last few days. He was sick from running around, perhaps from infection as well. He was keeping an eye on things, cleaning them well with alcohol so they wouldn't get worse, but after running around for three days without treatment, he was bound to get SOMETHING.
In short, this sucked, royally, and he probably shouldn't have been alone in all of this.
dontcallmegol) and Sanji (baratiesbest)Where: The Wharf
When: Afternoon, Oct 22. (In Progress)
Rating: PG-13 for language?
Summary: After finding out about Anemone and Ace, Sanji finds himself looking for Ace again, they needed to talk.
the log:
Ace was propped somewhere inside one of many buildings near the Wharf, panting softly at the discomfort he was in and fighting off the urge to puke. He was doing his best to clean his wounds and changing the bandages on them. But he honestly wasn't familiar with doing this sort of thing, not to himself anyway. Other than the wounds he'd sustained before Impel Down, he'd never been beaten to this extent, at least, not for years. The pain he could manage, the blood was nothing, the stiffness and sickness given in exchange for it all was still something he'd have to get used to. This was a hell of a lot more difficult than he imagined, how hard could it have been to treat oneself? He'd seen it done, had a gist, but when moving alone made your head spin, body ache and stomach rebel, well... it became a lot more difficult.
Things had honestly gotten worse over the last few days. He was sick from running around, perhaps from infection as well. He was keeping an eye on things, cleaning them well with alcohol so they wouldn't get worse, but after running around for three days without treatment, he was bound to get SOMETHING.
In short, this sucked, royally, and he probably shouldn't have been alone in all of this.