[OOM: The Roof.]

[mnt_raph]

*If one were to follow the path of blood that goes up and over the outside wall of Milliways one might just find themselves with in earshot of the moody grunge rock that blares from within the tent that dreams of being a studio apartment. And for good reason, the sole inhabitant of said tent is feeling less than stellar at the moment. Actually, less than stellar is a rather large understatement. Raph feels like ass reheated in a non-microwavable container on high for fifteen minutes. That's sort of what happens after you go three rounds with a Slayer.

While it's entirely possible that that he's suffered worse injuries in the past, he's never looked worse. There's something about green skin that just hides bruises better than the pink he's currently sporting.

Currently the entire right side of his face is swollen and purple. He has a staggered line of black stitching running from his elbow to his wrist of his left arm. There is a square of gauze taped to his right thigh which is clearly visible below the cut off sweat shorts he's forced to wear due to his...um...other injuries.

Sleeping hasn't been much of an option. And eating is right out as well. Thankfully, Raph has a well stocked fridge when it comes to beverages.*

Comments

[the_lioness]

*A muffled curse sounds from outside the tent. It soon turns into a yelp and a frustrated yell.*

MITHROS, what is that?

*Alanna's ears object to moody grunge rock, it seems. It's possible that she is also having some cold related difficulties due to forgetting her gloves inside.*

[mnt_raph]

music.

*Comes the muffled reply. There's a moment or two before hte door/flap opens. Raph limps back towards his bed.*

com'on in.

[the_lioness]

*One glimpse of his face, and Alanna goes silent with shock. Her mouth drops open as she follows him inside, no longer noticing the cold.

She takes a deep breath before speaking.*

Raph? I'm usually a proponent of purple, but I'm not sure it's the best color for you.

*Fighting the urge to race over and help him, she bites her lip. Something tells her that Raph might not appreciate it.*

What happened?

[mnt_raph]

been redecoratin'. what, don't like it?

*He gives her a withering look before very very carefully sitting down on his bed.*

[the_lioness]

*Very little frustrates Alanna as much as having a hurt friend and not being able to heal him or her. She knows how Raph feels about magic, so she doesn't even bother asking. Instead, she digs her fingernails into her palms and takes a few steps closer. She ignores his quip.*

You haven't been in the bar for a while. I missed you, clearly.

[mnt_raph]

*He sighs*

can't get down.

[the_lioness]

*Eyes wide, she lets her eyes run over him and eventually lets out a string of curses that would make most people's hair stand on end.*

Raph! Why didn't you send word? Call down, or something? Have you had enough food?

[mnt_raph]

*Raph shrinks back, as if that will save him from the onslaught of obscenity. He points over to the kitchen area, where there are numerous cans of Spagetti-os in various stages of burned.

Raph is notorious for being able to burn water.*

[the_lioness]

*Calming herself, she breathes.*

Right.

I'm bringing you food, you pig-headed- Honestly. Of all the- Why won't you tell me what happened to you?





Did you fall off the roof?

[someonesdog]

At some point in the week before the full moon, Angua wanders outside. She's sat for a few hours in the bar, and hasn't seen anyone she knows, so is going for a night time stroll under the waxing moon before heading back to Ankh-Morpork.

She's just considering changing into something a little more comfortable and going for a run in the forest, when the smell catches her nose.

Blood.

Dried blood, admittedly, a few days old. But blood, nevertheless. And copper's instinct kicks in, right before the dog wakes up. This is a trail, and it should be followed.

As she climbs the ladder, she becomes aware of a small note of panic rising in her. Blood is blood is blood, and the smell of that usually hides everything else, but this dried trail smells familiar. It's someone she knows up there, and hurt.

As she strides over to the tent, she calls out, curiously:

"Hello?"

[mnt_raph]

*A woman's voice? April. No wait...not April. The voice isn't quite right for April, let alone that if it were her the door would already be open and she'd already be giving him grief.

Now it stands to reason that someone there to kill you doesn't usually offer a greeting first...well, unless they're from Raph's world which seems to be composed mainly of the world's worst ninjas, but the mun digresses. At any rate Raph, reaches over to his nightstand where one of this trusty sai rests. Firmly in hand, he yells to the quasi-unfamilar voice.*

We don't want any.

*Yelling, he's decided for what could only be the millionth time, is a bad thing for someone with broken ribs to do.*

[someonesdog]

"Raph?" Angua repeats, approaching the tent in urgent strides. Someone else might have their hand on their sword. She's tugging at the buckle on her breats plate.

"Are you OK?"

'Yes' is not the right answer.

[mnt_raph]

Fine.

*He manages to cough out in a very not fine sounding way.*

[someonesdog]

"Bullcrap," Angua says, standing by the tent now, and pushing at the tent flap. "Are you hu..."

She catches herself. No matter what he smells like, he's always human.

"Are you decent?"

[mnt_raph]

if i say no will you leave me be?

*He's trying not to cough, but the yelling took a bit out of him.
It should be noted that he is decent, for a given value of decent. Propped up on the headboard, wearing a tank top and boxers. There might even be a ninja blanket across his lap.*

[someonesdog]

"No."

And with that sufficing as a warning, Angua pushes the flap open and steps into the tent...

...and straightens up, blinking at the studio.

"Um..."

[mnt_raph]

don't you gotta have like, a warrant or somethin' come bargin' in here like this?

[locks_it_up]

"Baby...?"

[mnt_raph]

*Raph freezes, but doesn't look up.*

looks worse than it is. m'fine....

*And he looks it, really. The yellow/purple of his jaw really does bring out the brown in his eyes. The black thread lacing his left arm together in one vivid meander over livid pink skin is the hit of Milan this season. And those aren't even taking into account the wounds you can't see right off.*

[locks_it_up]

"I'm so, so sorry..."

The lightest touch in the world on his brow.

Her fingers tremble.

[mnt_raph]

*He still doesn't look up, infact he slightly pulls away at her touch.
Does She know? Does She know how he begged?*

ain't nothin' to be sorry for.

[locks_it_up]

...oh, ow.

"I stayed away. I left you. I'm sorry."

It's a very good thing he's not looking at her.

He should not see the tears in her eyes.

[mnt_raph]

goin'way don't matter so long as you come back...

*The words taste bitter in his mouth.
The truth has the same coppery tang of blood.*

[locks_it_up]

"I am back. For a little while, anyway."

She should let him go. But doing so would probably break him. And she cannot bring herself to do it.

"Where doesn't it hurt, baby?"

There must be somewhere to touch him.

[mnt_raph]

*The cackle is there, even if it is muffled by wear and tear.*

hah. sure i gotta toe 'round here somewhere.

*In truth, his right arm is pretty unscathed, which is why it reaches out for her, brushing the curve of her hip.*