not that she's really going to listen, instead taking the traditional emergency medical liberties and pushing the man around like a lump of clay. pulling him over by his shoulder so she can fight with whatever he's wearing for a shirt, pulling until she's got a better view of the entry wound in his back. it's just like any other gunshot, but that doesn't make the sight of blood oozing out of a hole in the human body with renewed vigor every few seconds any easier to look at. in this moment, clarke will take him at his word that there's no exit wound, and set about grinding the heel of her palm — hard — into his wound in an effort to staunch the bleeding. )
Well, at least you have two.
( really, as far as internal organs to be punctured, the kidney is relatively survivable. not that they'd know without an exam, or time to tell. either way, it's the blood loss that's the issue here; a pressing issue, still diligently squeezing out under the pressure of her hand. clarke is casting around for solutions here, a real and concrete plan of action to take. the only real solution she can think of is somehow making it to the infirmary on deck zero, but remembers how hard she'd strained to walk anywhere but towards the deck for that mandatory safety meeting on her first day aboard the serena eterna. it'd been like walking through quick drying cement until it had become just literally impossible to move. that isn't a promising option but, as so many other life or death staked decisions in her life have narrowed down to, it really feels like the only choice. )
Okay. Here's what we're going to do. We're going to head for the medbay, I'm going to try to stop the bleeding. You're going to stay awake, and we're both going to hope we don't get stopped along the way. If we do, for whatever reason, I'm going to run to the medbay, get what I need to help you, and come right back, okay?
...But for what it's worth, if you die here, I'm told it's not permanent. ( a... small comfort? maybe? whatever, it's time to move. ) Okay, come on — get up.
( she is not strong enough to pull him back up into a standing position without a little bit of cooperation, but could probably drag him by the ankle if it came to that. so come on, adrian, how much do you want to live? clarke's back with her shoulder wedged in his armpit, still doing her best to keep a hand splayed across his back, and straining with a huff. )
no subject
( just. keep. talking.
not that she's really going to listen, instead taking the traditional emergency medical liberties and pushing the man around like a lump of clay. pulling him over by his shoulder so she can fight with whatever he's wearing for a shirt, pulling until she's got a better view of the entry wound in his back. it's just like any other gunshot, but that doesn't make the sight of blood oozing out of a hole in the human body with renewed vigor every few seconds any easier to look at. in this moment, clarke will take him at his word that there's no exit wound, and set about grinding the heel of her palm — hard — into his wound in an effort to staunch the bleeding. )
Well, at least you have two.
( really, as far as internal organs to be punctured, the kidney is relatively survivable. not that they'd know without an exam, or time to tell. either way, it's the blood loss that's the issue here; a pressing issue, still diligently squeezing out under the pressure of her hand. clarke is casting around for solutions here, a real and concrete plan of action to take. the only real solution she can think of is somehow making it to the infirmary on deck zero, but remembers how hard she'd strained to walk anywhere but towards the deck for that mandatory safety meeting on her first day aboard the serena eterna. it'd been like walking through quick drying cement until it had become just literally impossible to move. that isn't a promising option but, as so many other life or death staked decisions in her life have narrowed down to, it really feels like the only choice. )
Okay. Here's what we're going to do. We're going to head for the medbay, I'm going to try to stop the bleeding. You're going to stay awake, and we're both going to hope we don't get stopped along the way. If we do, for whatever reason, I'm going to run to the medbay, get what I need to help you, and come right back, okay?
...But for what it's worth, if you die here, I'm told it's not permanent. ( a... small comfort? maybe? whatever, it's time to move. ) Okay, come on — get up.
( she is not strong enough to pull him back up into a standing position without a little bit of cooperation, but could probably drag him by the ankle if it came to that. so come on, adrian, how much do you want to live? clarke's back with her shoulder wedged in his armpit, still doing her best to keep a hand splayed across his back, and straining with a huff. )