Dystopian RP?

(I'm still Celina. Changed username tho)

(Guys how about we keep this under R or at R… I feel like this story is more of an emotional story than the type of "I kill you, you kill me, yay there's blood everywhere" story)

(I do plan on Armand dying tbh but I won't go past R ofc)

(Armand dying???
Sad…
And yeah I do use my Grade 3 vocabulary when sad and/or speechless/shocked)

(@wake-read-eat-sleep I don’t take offense. You’re right.)
(You can join Anni)

(And ofc you have a more regular sleep schedule than me I think I said at the beginning I'm an overnighter, though I think I do a pretty decent job of being on while others are posting.)

Armand sighed frustrated, and moved back to Rowan's room, hearing the loud commotion again. The center had been lucky he was almost always in his office, as the rebels would have escaped a few times over by now. He was surprised when he walked in to see Petree brandishing Harrison's sword. "Petree. What the hell are you doing in here?" He crossed his arms, sternly. "You should have stayed away." He sighed, looking to Rowan, and becoming slightly shocked. He wasn't sure what was going on. Was she having a reaction to the solution? Was it having a strange side effect, or was it something completely different? Armand checked her pulse, temperature, and her reactions, hoping to quickly find an answer that he could cure.

Rowan panted, severely dehydrated now and dripping with sweat. She could taste blood in her mouth from her dry throat. Petree and Armand were here now, but Rowan just barely registered their presence. Is this how I die? She wondered feverishly.

Yuki was speechless. Rowan was doing fine just moments ago. “What did you do to her!?”, she yelled at Armand. “I’m sure this has to do with her being a rebel! I trusted you to help her!” Yuki stood beside Rowan. “I won’t let him hurt you.”, she wispered to Rowan.

"No, this wasn't something in my plans. Move." He grabbed some supplies, including something that looked like a syphon, a few injections. But Yuki still wouldn't like what her friend would have to go through to fix it, nonetheless. "She's having a reaction. Apparently she's allergic to something in the solution."

Rowan shuddered. She gave Armand the most pitful look she could muster, trying to convey she needed help.

"I didn't know you had any allergies!" he nearly growled at her, angry at his own mistake. He'd need to get through the skin, and he didn't know how much of a challenge that would be; he'd need to drain some of her blood, identify the problem chemical, and deliver an antidote for it, and as quickly as he could. His hands shaking, he attempted to poke a hole in her skin for a blood vessel, but for some reason, the new chemicals in her body were going overdrive to protect her, and her skin would not allow the needle, however sharp it was. He grumbled angrily, trying to stay calm, grabbing the sharpest blade he could find.

Rowan let out a strained gargle, an attempt to express fear of the knife being brought over to her. She didn't want to put down, not yet. She attempted to flinch back, but was too weak to do so.

Armand gripped her swelling wrist, grunting at her struggle. "Hold f***ing still!" He brought the scalpel down quickly and deliberately, hacking a large yet quickly healing cut into her skin. He pressed the needle to it and pulled as much blood as he was able, quickly taking a data stick to it and shoving it into the computer, analyzing what her white cells were fighting. He eyed her, he saw the mistrust, and he was glad she hadn't started trusting him yet, in a way.

Rowan reached for Yuki's hand, weakly squeezing it for comfort. She was frantic now. I'm gonna die. Was the only thought running through her head. Armand had just slit her wrist, but somehow it was healing already. She watched him as carefully as she could at the moment, unsure why he'd do this to her.

The computer analyzed as quickly as it could. Her entire body was out of balance, it was having to do a much more thorough sorting than normal; but finally her blood was analyzed and the chemicals that her cells reacted to were found. Armand sprinted across his laboratory, searching through compounds, stem cells, solutions, all sorts of vials before returning to the desk, assuring by note that he had the correct things. He finally returned with the new injection, though her wrist was once again healed. He apologized to her in his head before bringing the knife on her again, tearing the skin open and inserting the needle into her bloodstream the best he could, pinning her as he needed. "Calm down. You're not dying. You aren't." He put a shaky hand firmly on her forehead, pressing his thumb between her eyebrows and looking her directly in the eyes.

Rowan was terrified. Armand had come back with another needle, sliced her wrist back open and pinned her down so she couldn't squirm away. It hurt like hell. She was freaking out, the few tears she could muster ran down her face. Once Armand was finished he had placed his thumb right between her eyebrows, forcing eye contact.

"Calm down. You're not dying. You aren't." He assured her. Rowan was shaking violently. She was covered in blood, sweat, and tears; absolutely miserable. Her wrist had already healed again. She weakly touched the fading wound with vague curiosity.

(GOSH JUST– THIS)

(@SincereBeastie are you okay? Lol)

(I am I just haven't had so much fun writing in forever! It's so intense and cool and.. yeah!)

(Same omg this rp is actually one of the best I've done! It's so much fun!)

Armand pushed off of her, standing back and trying to catch his breath, smoothing his hair and finding a towel to wipe his face. "Damn it.." he shoved a cart, the contents on top clattering harshly to the floor. He felt sick.

"W-Water?" Rowan croaked hopefully, her shallow breathing easing slowly back to normal. Before anything else she wanted water. Then maybe Armand would let her use a prison shower or something. Anything to get the blood off her. The bed sheets weren't faring much better.

Armand nodded, leaving the room, closing the door best he could. He needed to scream. He did so, beating his fists against the wall, feeling like a child throwing a tantrum. Afterwards, he shook himself, calming his breathing and bringing her a water, sitting shakily on the edge of her bed, the water trembling in its cup.

Rowan took the glass gingerly, almost as shaky as Armand, herself. She drank it quickly, her eyes watering as the cool liquid made her dry throat burn. "Thanks." She mumbled, still very shaken by the situation she was just in.

He didn't answer. Wrapped up in his thoughts conflicting against one another in his head all at once, he was having the hardest time clearing his head. He looked at her arm, the sheets on the bed. "When you can walk, come with me. You need to get cleaned up." He stood, pulling a mop to the room and cleaning it quickly with bleach water, before beginning to strip the bed.

Rowan nodded, standing so Armand could clean. She took a few unstable steps forward, her legs wobbly like a newborn fawn. After pacing back and forth for a few minutes using the wall for support, she was able to move on her own. "I think I'm okay." She looked over at Armand.

"Right then. Let's go." He balled the fabric up into one neat little bundle, and waited for her to move out the door in front of him, nodding for her to do so. He would stop by the laundry on their way to the showers, and he didn't bother to restrain her, feeling no need to. He was becoming careless, and would decide to walk beside her, watching her for need of support. "I should apologize." he said softly.

"Not your fault. You didn't know that would happen." Rowan said gruffly, gripping onto Armand's shoulder for support as she stumbled forward. "Was kinda scary though." She sighed, sniffing a little. I am not crying again. She scolded herself.

"I wouldn't say you were 'kind of' scared, Rowan." He'd felt that fear before. He braced himself as Rowan gripped his shoulder. He wasn't strong but he could help her walk. He paused for a moment to drop off the soiled sheets and resumed to her side, leading her down the long, clean-cut hallways. "You thought I was going to kill you." His voice held no emotion, though he was re-affirming that what she felt was natural, and okay. "As a doctor, those kinds of mistakes are regrettable at best."