[Flashback] There's no escape from Homework (Oluse)

[Oluse]

Oluse gave a frantic look up at her as he clung securely to the side of his own shallow slope. "Alea, I didn't mean." He paused on account that he did mean what he had said, and reformed his sentence. "Alea, calm down. You can't make that jump, and you can't leave Denval. Come back down, please. We'll take the safer route." He was worried for his new friend, and for himself. What if she died?

Oluse would have to go work for her family, his father would make him. And Oluse didn't want to clean fish guts any more than Alea did. That's when he realized there was a difference between her life and his. Oluse wanted to be a physician, he wanted to help people, and heal them. He knew on a logical level that fish kept Denval running, especially in the winter. But, it just wasn't the same satisfaction as doctoring. All you can see as a fisherman's wife was fish guts, not the happy families they feed. He pondered a moment how to apologize to her. He finally realized what he had said wrong, and hoped it wasn't too late to take it back.

[Alea Davenport]

"Who are you to tell me what I can't do?!" she yelled down at him. She would show him what a girl born of Denval was capable of. Then, before she could talk herself out of it, she leaped from her small ledge up toward the precipice. She just barely managed to grasp it with her fingers, but the ledge was sharp and rough, and she did not have a good enough grip. Time seemed to stretch infinitely as her fingers slipped, and a few seconds later she was falling, sliding down the cliff-face. She tried to grab any available surface, clinging to the cliff-face, lacerating her hands and arms, tearing bloody holes in the knees of her trousers (and the knees of her legs).

When her feet finally hit ground, jarring her legs a bit, she fell backward. Everything hurt, and her arms stung so badly tears came to her eyes. "Oww..." she whimpered. She did not immediately get up; the shock of a near-death experience was still too close. She felt fatally wounded, like a tragic heroine. She did not dare look at her arms, knowing that they would look terrible.

[Oluse]

Oluse's stomach dropped an innumerable distance as his friend leaped through the air. His heart and breath seemed to come to a standstill. When her hand collided with the rough rock he literally took a step forward, almost losing his footing on the forgotten slope beneath him. He wanted to tell her to go back, his hand twitched as if reaching for her. His mind reeled, and he bit hard down on his lower lip as she dangled for a mere moment. A moment that seemed to promise hope. But, then, she fell. Oluse's stomach did a one eighty, rocketing up into his throat, his mouth opening to speak, but nothing but a helpless groan exited his small frame, as if displaced by his own distressed intestines.

His teeth slammed together in a pained grimace as he heard, and felt, the solid thud of the young girl's body connecting with the unforgiving stone. She rolled, and tumbled, as Oluse's groan grew longer, fluctuating with worry as she finally came to a reluctant halt. He heard nothing but his heart pounding as she lay there, for what seemed like forever to the young boy, unmoving. But then she let out an exclamation of her own, of pain. She had survived, and in response Oluse's legs scrambled him forward toward her, much less aware of his footing at that point.

"Alea," The name passed his lips, and he immediately felt dirty for it. His mind was in a panic, and as such thoughts were not connecting at full speed, nor effectiveness. He knew one thing without a doubt, however, or rather felt one thing. This was his fault. If he hadn't tried to help her, if he hadn't been so clumsy with his words she would be fine. He hated himself in that moment, he hated everything. This wave of emotions was worsened and heightened by the streaks of blood red he saw before him, as he finally settled to Alea's side. His knees hit the stone hard in his hurry, ripping a hole on his right pant leg. He didn't notice this, however, he only noticed that she was hurt.

He struggled to think of what he was supposed to do, what was supposed to happen when somebody got hurt. He thought of his father, yes his father was a doctor. His father would know what to do. But, then, he realized something. An epiphany, really. His father had taught him, so. And it was awkwardly slow and logical in his own mind's eye as he came to this conclusion. So, that meant that he too was a doctor. And if one doctor could do something, so could another. Which meant he must know what to do. "I know what to do." The words spilled from his mouth with more a sense of distracted surprise than true confidence. "Right." He looked down at Alea, shaking the sluggishness from his mind, trying to focus on the task at hand. He stared at the wounds, forgetting to communicate with his patient. He did not yet have the experience to gather information from her as he looked for himself.

oocheh so um ya... what are her wounds now?

[Alea Davenport]

OOCWounds: skinned arms, hands, knees, probably some scratches on her legs. Lots of bruises, but those are probably covered by clothing. If you want to assume other minor sprains and things, that's fine too.

Alea groaned when Oluse started talking. The idiot was probably just going to break her even more. Still not quite ready to open her eyes, Alea lifted her arms a bit, just to make sure they still worked. Then she rolled her ankles, feeling the soreness from the impact already setting in (but at least she could still move them). She hissed sharply at the pain of movement, but took what small comfort there was in the fact that at least she was still alive.

She finally decided to open her eyes. She was still a bit dazed, so it took her a few moments to resolve Oluse's face peering at her. She tried to sit up, propping herself up with her arms, largely oblivious to the dirt and sand that was getting into her wounds. She managed to raise her head a few inches before she got dizzy and lay back down. She wasn't going to be able to see how her back felt until she had more maneuverability.

"Don't screw up," she muttered, her voice not quite as strong as normal, but still holding the same bite. She wasn't going to let Oluse off easy just because she felt like she was dying (though the fact that she still had energy to belittle him implied that things were not as serious as Alea was inclined to believe).

[Oluse]

When Alea went to pull herself up, Oluse's hands went out to brace her, and as she fall back down he watched her movement's carefully, and kept her from landing too hard if necessary. To her words his brow furrowed. He was trying to concentrate, but she was still talking. He still felt horrible for what he felt he had done, but something about the blood and the dirt, and her moans. All of that guilt began to fade. "Look, just be quiet a second, ok? I'm trying to think." The words exited his mouth without thought as he peered around for water. The ocean was close, and the salt water would do a well enough job of cleaning out the wounds, before they got home. But, it would hurt.

He glanced at Alea again, wondering how well she could move. She was still talking, and she gave a half decent attempt at sitting up, so he figured her spine was fine. Even her feet were moving, and that eased his mind greatly. All of those issues would have been far beyond his ability to tend to. "Ok, Alea. I need you to tell me everywhere you hurt." He spouted out as he remembered communication with a patient was a good thing. "If you can I'm going to help you down to the water." He wasn't sure quite then how he would get her down the slope, but he fancied if nothing else he could have her sit in his lap as he slid down. It would make her uncomfortable, but he suspected she wouldn't be walking anywhere till she was on flat ground again at least.

Regardless, his primary focus was not on Alea's comfort, but on getting her home before any swelling began and made it impossible to move. That's when in his novice and untrained mind he remembered swelling, that if left too long her shoes might grow too tight, and they would have to cut them loose. He wondered what else he had forgotten about tending to such situations. He looked at Alea with a worried and unsure expression.

[Alea Davenport]

Alea was getting used to the stinging in her arms and legs, and the bruised feeling of everything else. The twisted feeling of her feet and ankles were a little more painful, though the right was worse than the left. The shock of the fall was wearing off, and with the added alertness came a greater awareness of the pain. Oluse's "bedside manner," if one could call it that, wasn't helping things. The last thing she wanted in the midst of feeling sorry for herself was to be told to shut up. Fortunately for him, she seemed to realize the seriousness of her situation, and prioritized her safety and survival over antagonizing Oluse.

She tried again to sit up, with a little more luck this time. A glance at her arms showed bloody messes, but she looked away, and with a deep breath tried to convince herself that once they were cleaned up it wouldn't look nearly so bad. At Oluse's suggestion of getting to the water, she glanced down the slope, and decided that she'd had quite enough sliding down slopes for one day. "If we go to the water, we're taking the long way around," she told him, pointing behind them at the easier route she'd deliberately neglected earlier. "I think it has a path to the ocean." She bent her legs in preparation to stand up, but when she started to put weight on her right foot, she cried out in pain.

[Oluse]

ooclol, Alea... you make Oluse feel all weird. Why is he always so Bipolar around Alea? XD

Oluse had already been scanning the way down the shallow slope before Alea spoke. He disregarded her refusal to answer his question of where she hurt, assuming she wasn't hurting enough anywhere to keep her from being defiant. With a drawn out roll of his eyes he looked at her, the expression shocked into alarm as she let out a yelp of pain. His hands went out once more, and rest on her shoulders, both holding her up from falling over, and down from trying to get up.

"You could have died, you know." He spoke insistently. "Do you always make things so hard for yourself?" His eyes looked up toward the path she suggested. He was feeling overwhelmed by the situation, and the prospect of there being another option just worsened that sensation. After a moment of feigned contemplation he simple shook his head. "No, Alea. You are going to listen to me, and you're going to let me help you down this slope. So I hope you didn't waste all of your stupid bravery on injuring yourself." His voice was surprisingly, almost uncharacteristically, definite.

He still felt guilty, somewhere deep inside, however instead of making him coy and apologetic it made him angry. He was attempting to repent by assisting her, and she seemed insistent on maintaining her idiotic self delusion of control over the situation by calling the shots. He wasn't about to let that happen, and he wasn't about to leave her to her own devices either. "Now, you can sit here and argue, and pout over what happened. Or, you can be a real Denvali women and get on my lap, and let me help you. What will it be?" His voice was far from calm as he spoke these last words, laced with fire and anger. His gaze was transfixed straight into hers, the expression making it seem as if there were a different boy in front of her than than the one who followed her minutes before. This new boy was determined, and self assured, with little patience to temper him. Yet, despite this, though less apparent than the anger and insistent speech, the fire in his eyes was fueled not by selfishness alone, but also an intense need to help Alea, to take care of her and protect her from herself. All for better, or worse.

[Alea Davenport]

Alea looked at Oluse in disbelief and gave a harsh, short laugh. She wasn't sure how he'd meant it to sound, but if "real Denvali women" were known for getting on men's laps and needing help, that was all the more reason for her to disown her heritage. Before replying, she slapped him hard across the face to make sure he was paying attention. "Now you listen to me. I get to decide when to put myself at risk, and I'm not about to put my life in your hands. Now you can either help me down the safe path, the one you wanted to take earlier, or you can go home, and I'll take care of myself, as usual. I risk my neck for my own reasons, not to support pathetic displays of male bravado."

With that, she shoved his hands away from her shoulders and began scooting herself back toward the path. If she put most of her weight on her left foot, it hurt slightly less, and she only winced instead of crying out. Of course, this method also got dirt and sand in her bleeding hands, but that couldn't be helped. Unless a certain someone was willing to lend a shoulder...

OOCThis is going to be one of those cases where she has to leave home to realize how important it is to her...

[Oluse]

ooclol yes, indeed this is the beginning of a long and wonderfully abusive relationship... I blame Denval! I can't wait till Oluse develops a clear understanding of his moral system in regards to his medical practice XD

I like present Oluse more >.< This is guna be painful to write...

The moment her bloody hand connected to his face he raised his own. Though not executed with any true finesse as Alea's seemed to have, his strike did aim in return well enough toward her face. Regardless of the strikes effectiveness he gives forth a retort, shortly following the hit or miss. "Male Bravado?!" He exclaimed with a serious tone, and a harsh look. "You just leaped from a rock face and almost snapped your ignorant little neck!" He let out an annoyed sound and broke eye contact as if he would leave her be, but a moment later continued as his thoughts caught up with his anger. "If anybody is pathetic here, it's you! You get all worked up trying to show off for me, then when you finally get my attention after trying to commit suicide you-" he stutters slightly his mouth getting ahead of his mind again, "you slap my hands away! You are a pathetic distant women who doesn't deserve help!"

When she began scooting away his eyes narrowed with a slight cringe at the sight of her hands connecting with the dirty slope beneath them both. He though of offering an article of clothing to wrap around her hands, but in his still fuming disgruntled state he refused to help, on the grounds she seemed dead set on refusing any help from him in return. His mind swarmed with stray though, as it filled with raging blood, bringing with it a slight blush to his ears nose and blood tinged cheeks. His face hurt, and he just watched her, upset that anybody could be so disrespectful to help. He didn't even bother wiping the blood from his cheeks, partly because the wind on the blood eased the sting slightly, but mostly to make her feel bad for slapping him.

[Alea Davenport]

If Oluse was hoping for any guilt from Alea, he was doomed to disappointment. At first she was indignant that he would slap her, but then she acknowledged it as a fair response. She was not even paying attention to what he had to say; she was much more interested in being listened to than in listening to anyone else.

Since getting help from Oluse was apparently out of the picture, Alea began calculating how she could best make it home. The skinned limbs were already starting to scab over, so they'd probably be more of an annoyance than an actual hindrance. The real problem was her foot. Even when she rested it hurt, and putting weight on it was almost unbearable.

She managed to scoot herself up to the trail she'd pointed out, and at that point she pulled herself to a mostly standing position with the aid of a nearby boulder. She then began half-hopping, half-limping down the trail, trying not to put too much weight on her most-injured foot. Her face was contorted in an ugly grimace of pain, since her left foot was injured as well, though it was still functional. She couldn't help but think this would be a lot easier if Oluse lent her a shoulder, but he'd made it perfectly clear that she was on her own.