Not that kind of blood (Quinn)
Mar. 24th, 2009 01:49 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
quinntaessentia.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
darker_londonFlynn was having a mightly flip out over the events in Northern Ireland and the repeated taunts from the PIRA he was recieving, and while Quinn couldn't really blame him for that in the least, it upset Quinn that Flynn was then taking it in such a way as he felt responsible for bringing trouble on his loved ones. Flynn was taking it so personally he was starting to look itchy and restless, which usually meant he was going to run. Quinn was quite of a mind that he didn't care what was brought on him, as long as he was with Flynn, he would deal. Which also had it's downsides, as it had nearly gotten him killed seven years ago when he accompanied Flynn to the streets. But surely there was some happy medium somewhere.
Since Flynn was busy with Jacob, which at least ensured that he wouldn't run anytime in the near future, Quinn took it upon himself to visit Deirdre. She had said she was sick, and Quinn hated to think of any of his freinds being ill. Especially ones who had just broken up with their girlfriends and were likely to be alone.
Quinn knocked loudly, and indeed jovially on the door, and then he waited. And waited. And Deirdre didn't answer. Quinn started to panic, and his terror only grew as he pulled out his mobile and keyed in her number, only to hear it ringing in the house, muffled by walls and window glass, but still obviously present. And Deirdre didn't answer that either. "Shit, she's got to be home!" Quinn darted around to the back of the flat to see if he could find another way in, all the while hoping that she hadn't gone all demonic. If that was the case, he was probably going to last about three seconds beyond breaching the flat's perimeter. But it was Deirdre. He was going to take the risk.
While Flynn was surely the one with the criminal past, Quinn wasn't exactly unknowledgable in the art of breaking and entering. He had listened to Flynn's stories, been part of Flynn's quick lessons on how to survive on the streets, and then he had had to survive for months, and while he had never stolen something, he had broken in to numerous abandoned buildings to find a place to sleep where they wouldn't get snowed on. And, oddly enough, Quinn had found that abandoned buildings actually seemed to have more security than inhabited ones, if you didn't count the fact that there weren't people present. And Deirdre's flat was no exception. In seconds, Quinn was up a tree, testing a long limb to see if it would hold his weight. When he was sure it would, he shimmied out onto it, and he slid his knife out of his pocket. Quinn never went anywhere without one anymore. Not after Amaris and Aurelia's attacks on him. No way. Quickly, he opened the blade up and he used it to undo the lock on the window by sliding the thin blade between the panes of glass, and jimmying it easily. "I have one eye. This is pathetic." Quinn slid his knife away, and he lifted Deirdre's window high enough to slip into. When he was safely inside, he locked the window again, and he jammed a rock from his pocket (Quinn often carried strange things around with him) into the track the window slid up, to keep it from being accessible again.
"Deirdre!?" Quinn searched all the rooms on the first floor before he turned to the stairwell. And that was where he found her, sprawled on the floor, bloody and broken. "Holy fuck!" Quinn hissed, and he sped down the stairs to kneel at Deirdre's side. "Deirdre!" Quinn touched her arm, and his stomach twisted when he realised that this was likely the state that Flynn had found him in after Amaris had left him. "Deirdre!" Quinn fumbled in his pocket for his phone. He squealed and nearly dropped it when Deirdre spoke.
"I...kept waiting to bleed." Deirdre followed her words with a mirthless chuckle, which descended into spasms of coughing. "Guess...I shouldn't...sh...got what I wanted, hmm?"
Quinn didn't understand what Deirdre was saying. Why was she waiting to bleed? This didn't look like the illness that was affecting angels and demons at the hospital. Deirdre's blood was coming from wounds. And...elsewhere Quinn didn't want to think about right now, because she was clearly hurt anyway, and he just needed to get her an ambulance. "I'll get help, Deirdre..." Quinn quickly phoned the hospital, and he rattled off the situation to them, though information was scarce. Once finished, he looked her over, and he noted that the blood looked relatively dry. She must have been here for a while. Maybe even since last night. "What happened?"
"Felt...sick." Deirdre groaned and she reached for Quinn's hand. "Fell. Fell down the stairs."
"Okay, okay...I'll call. Unless...Deirdre." Quinn gripped her hand tightly. "Heal yourself. It's okay. Just heal yourself. Use me."
Deirdre groaned and for a moment, it looked like she was going to refuse. But then she didn't. Quinn felt a pull somewhere near his spine, and his head went light and he felt so dizzy. So dizzy he almost fell forward, but suddenly someone's hands were holding him up even though he coudn't see anymore. Quinn closed his eyes and he shook his head and he looked at Deirdre in front of him, eyes bleary and blurred, but at least he could see that Deirdre was okay. "Are...is everything..."
Deirdre was still as white as a sheet, and though she no longer had open wounds and limbs bent in wrong directions, she was staring at the bloodstain between her legs. "Quinn..." Deirdre breathed his name, almost like a plea. "Quinn, I..I don't think that's from-"
"I know." It wasn't blood from the fall. Or at least...not just from the fall, though it very well may have resulted from falling. Quinn struggled and he pulled himself into a standing position before reaching a hand out for Deirdre to take. "We should get you to the hospital. The ambulance is coming."
Deirdre looked up at Quinn, and her clear, blue eyes were brimming with tears. "Quinn. I was vomiting and I was...late, and then...and now..." Deirdre wrapped her arms around herself and she started sobbing, deep, uncontrollable sobs. And all Quinn could do was wrap a blanket around her shoulders and sit with her until the ambulance came. Anything else and she fought him. Anything else was too much.
Since Flynn was busy with Jacob, which at least ensured that he wouldn't run anytime in the near future, Quinn took it upon himself to visit Deirdre. She had said she was sick, and Quinn hated to think of any of his freinds being ill. Especially ones who had just broken up with their girlfriends and were likely to be alone.
Quinn knocked loudly, and indeed jovially on the door, and then he waited. And waited. And Deirdre didn't answer. Quinn started to panic, and his terror only grew as he pulled out his mobile and keyed in her number, only to hear it ringing in the house, muffled by walls and window glass, but still obviously present. And Deirdre didn't answer that either. "Shit, she's got to be home!" Quinn darted around to the back of the flat to see if he could find another way in, all the while hoping that she hadn't gone all demonic. If that was the case, he was probably going to last about three seconds beyond breaching the flat's perimeter. But it was Deirdre. He was going to take the risk.
While Flynn was surely the one with the criminal past, Quinn wasn't exactly unknowledgable in the art of breaking and entering. He had listened to Flynn's stories, been part of Flynn's quick lessons on how to survive on the streets, and then he had had to survive for months, and while he had never stolen something, he had broken in to numerous abandoned buildings to find a place to sleep where they wouldn't get snowed on. And, oddly enough, Quinn had found that abandoned buildings actually seemed to have more security than inhabited ones, if you didn't count the fact that there weren't people present. And Deirdre's flat was no exception. In seconds, Quinn was up a tree, testing a long limb to see if it would hold his weight. When he was sure it would, he shimmied out onto it, and he slid his knife out of his pocket. Quinn never went anywhere without one anymore. Not after Amaris and Aurelia's attacks on him. No way. Quickly, he opened the blade up and he used it to undo the lock on the window by sliding the thin blade between the panes of glass, and jimmying it easily. "I have one eye. This is pathetic." Quinn slid his knife away, and he lifted Deirdre's window high enough to slip into. When he was safely inside, he locked the window again, and he jammed a rock from his pocket (Quinn often carried strange things around with him) into the track the window slid up, to keep it from being accessible again.
"Deirdre!?" Quinn searched all the rooms on the first floor before he turned to the stairwell. And that was where he found her, sprawled on the floor, bloody and broken. "Holy fuck!" Quinn hissed, and he sped down the stairs to kneel at Deirdre's side. "Deirdre!" Quinn touched her arm, and his stomach twisted when he realised that this was likely the state that Flynn had found him in after Amaris had left him. "Deirdre!" Quinn fumbled in his pocket for his phone. He squealed and nearly dropped it when Deirdre spoke.
"I...kept waiting to bleed." Deirdre followed her words with a mirthless chuckle, which descended into spasms of coughing. "Guess...I shouldn't...sh...got what I wanted, hmm?"
Quinn didn't understand what Deirdre was saying. Why was she waiting to bleed? This didn't look like the illness that was affecting angels and demons at the hospital. Deirdre's blood was coming from wounds. And...elsewhere Quinn didn't want to think about right now, because she was clearly hurt anyway, and he just needed to get her an ambulance. "I'll get help, Deirdre..." Quinn quickly phoned the hospital, and he rattled off the situation to them, though information was scarce. Once finished, he looked her over, and he noted that the blood looked relatively dry. She must have been here for a while. Maybe even since last night. "What happened?"
"Felt...sick." Deirdre groaned and she reached for Quinn's hand. "Fell. Fell down the stairs."
"Okay, okay...I'll call. Unless...Deirdre." Quinn gripped her hand tightly. "Heal yourself. It's okay. Just heal yourself. Use me."
Deirdre groaned and for a moment, it looked like she was going to refuse. But then she didn't. Quinn felt a pull somewhere near his spine, and his head went light and he felt so dizzy. So dizzy he almost fell forward, but suddenly someone's hands were holding him up even though he coudn't see anymore. Quinn closed his eyes and he shook his head and he looked at Deirdre in front of him, eyes bleary and blurred, but at least he could see that Deirdre was okay. "Are...is everything..."
Deirdre was still as white as a sheet, and though she no longer had open wounds and limbs bent in wrong directions, she was staring at the bloodstain between her legs. "Quinn..." Deirdre breathed his name, almost like a plea. "Quinn, I..I don't think that's from-"
"I know." It wasn't blood from the fall. Or at least...not just from the fall, though it very well may have resulted from falling. Quinn struggled and he pulled himself into a standing position before reaching a hand out for Deirdre to take. "We should get you to the hospital. The ambulance is coming."
Deirdre looked up at Quinn, and her clear, blue eyes were brimming with tears. "Quinn. I was vomiting and I was...late, and then...and now..." Deirdre wrapped her arms around herself and she started sobbing, deep, uncontrollable sobs. And all Quinn could do was wrap a blanket around her shoulders and sit with her until the ambulance came. Anything else and she fought him. Anything else was too much.
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