04-16-2019, 09:06 PM
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The sky was sapphire, not a tattered white cloud in view, and the afternoon was hot beneath the overseeing, burning yellow sun. Bright amber eyes scanned the street as he mingled with a few NPCs upon the street, a glass of red wine in his left hand, listening to rumors with no particular interest within his own mind, but his curiosity prompted him to stay. That was when it happened. It came out of nowhere, really. A man on the sidewalk across the street shouted in alarm, pressing a hand against his chest.
[b]"What's wrong there, lad?" Sheogorath inquired brightly, as the other Badlanders around him turned to watch.
"Can't brea...breathe, tightness, chest, what?" The breathy voice escaped in gasps from the man's lips. Another Badlander rushed across the street to offer aid as the seemingly sick man doubled over in what might have been pain. Then, in a sudden, painful display, he collapsed to the concrete, right before the other Badlander could reach him.
"Well now, that's unfortunate, isn't it? Really sounds like a you problem." He'll be fine, Sheogorath thought to himself with a shrug, lifting his glass of red wine to his lips to take a quiet sip. He didn't count how long the episode lasted before the man stopped breathing. The rest of the group looked confused, a few horrified, some neutral. Sheogorath just looked amused. Another sip of wine. "Another one bites the dust." He sang to himself, the song lyrics beating throughout his mind as a small smile crossed his lips. The man rendering aid was doing CPR. Sheogorath didn't know if it was a heart attack, cardiac arrest, or an undiagnosed heart disease. Honestly, he wasn't a doctor, but things weren't looking up for the seemingly dead man.
Suddenly, the man seemed to wake up, with a gasp of air. What a miracle! Well, for the formerly dead man, anyways. Sheogorath didn't much care. Still, he did part his lips to offer a bout of praise to what he assumed to be a former paramedic.
"Well done there, laddie. Not something I would have done. Actually, not something I could have done. CPR? What's that? I don't know her. Heh, but really, I don't know how." Sheogorath chuckled. The man was still laying on his back atop the concrete, gritty sidewalk, the fellow that had saved his life hovering just overhead with a concerned expression. The rest of the group watched in awe at the revival. Sheogorath, however, maintained his amused expression.
"Someone help me get him out of the sun." Oh yeah, could it have been heat stroke? The man was terribly sweaty, as if they had been running. He probably had. He was dressed like it, in exercise shorts and a grey tank top. Who knows? Sheogorath didn't. Maybe the paramedic did. Oh well. Sheogorath decided he could show off his newfound strength with the opportunity, so he was the first to step forward, forcing his wine glass into another fellow's grip before slipping across the street to pluck the man from the grit.
"Where do ya want him, lad?" Sheogorath asked the former paramedic. The man was conscious, seemingly, but groaning, and not moving much. He looked tired. Sheogorath felt strong, holding the heavy-set athlete, and he hoped the rest of the group was acknowledging that. After all, it was why he was helping at all.
"In here." The paramedic opened the door to what appeared to be an old barber's shop. So, Sheogorath carried the victim into the building, and sat him down into one of the many chairs.
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sheogorath
[b]and i say to myself, what a wonderful world
( tw for death )The sky was sapphire, not a tattered white cloud in view, and the afternoon was hot beneath the overseeing, burning yellow sun. Bright amber eyes scanned the street as he mingled with a few NPCs upon the street, a glass of red wine in his left hand, listening to rumors with no particular interest within his own mind, but his curiosity prompted him to stay. That was when it happened. It came out of nowhere, really. A man on the sidewalk across the street shouted in alarm, pressing a hand against his chest.
[b]"What's wrong there, lad?" Sheogorath inquired brightly, as the other Badlanders around him turned to watch.
"Can't brea...breathe, tightness, chest, what?" The breathy voice escaped in gasps from the man's lips. Another Badlander rushed across the street to offer aid as the seemingly sick man doubled over in what might have been pain. Then, in a sudden, painful display, he collapsed to the concrete, right before the other Badlander could reach him.
"Well now, that's unfortunate, isn't it? Really sounds like a you problem." He'll be fine, Sheogorath thought to himself with a shrug, lifting his glass of red wine to his lips to take a quiet sip. He didn't count how long the episode lasted before the man stopped breathing. The rest of the group looked confused, a few horrified, some neutral. Sheogorath just looked amused. Another sip of wine. "Another one bites the dust." He sang to himself, the song lyrics beating throughout his mind as a small smile crossed his lips. The man rendering aid was doing CPR. Sheogorath didn't know if it was a heart attack, cardiac arrest, or an undiagnosed heart disease. Honestly, he wasn't a doctor, but things weren't looking up for the seemingly dead man.
Suddenly, the man seemed to wake up, with a gasp of air. What a miracle! Well, for the formerly dead man, anyways. Sheogorath didn't much care. Still, he did part his lips to offer a bout of praise to what he assumed to be a former paramedic.
"Well done there, laddie. Not something I would have done. Actually, not something I could have done. CPR? What's that? I don't know her. Heh, but really, I don't know how." Sheogorath chuckled. The man was still laying on his back atop the concrete, gritty sidewalk, the fellow that had saved his life hovering just overhead with a concerned expression. The rest of the group watched in awe at the revival. Sheogorath, however, maintained his amused expression.
"Someone help me get him out of the sun." Oh yeah, could it have been heat stroke? The man was terribly sweaty, as if they had been running. He probably had. He was dressed like it, in exercise shorts and a grey tank top. Who knows? Sheogorath didn't. Maybe the paramedic did. Oh well. Sheogorath decided he could show off his newfound strength with the opportunity, so he was the first to step forward, forcing his wine glass into another fellow's grip before slipping across the street to pluck the man from the grit.
"Where do ya want him, lad?" Sheogorath asked the former paramedic. The man was conscious, seemingly, but groaning, and not moving much. He looked tired. Sheogorath felt strong, holding the heavy-set athlete, and he hoped the rest of the group was acknowledging that. After all, it was why he was helping at all.
"In here." The paramedic opened the door to what appeared to be an old barber's shop. So, Sheogorath carried the victim into the building, and sat him down into one of the many chairs.
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and i see fire, blood in the breeze
[sup]AND I HOPE THAT YOU'LL REMEMBER ME