Sweet Dreams His Jewel is a deep, bloody red and he cannot help but wonder about the significance of that when the scream pierces his dreams, an echo of a sound he still hears in his mind sometimes, and Jonathan's eyes snap open to see a figure looming over him. His eyes can pick out the details easily in the blessed darkness, and he's briefly grateful for the fact that he awoke to night instead of painful daylight.
But there's the glint of a gun and Jonathan reacts, moving in a blur to shove the figure away with a feral snarl. He wants to throw them back and sink fangs into their neck and feed, but he fights the urge, instead grabbing for the gun to try and disarm instead of kill. Despite his rage, the figure fights back and Jonathan yells as a knife instead sinks into his shoulder and he staggers back against the door. The other man is on him again in a moment and the tussle carries them out into the corridor and Jonathan catches sight of someone nearby and a glimpse of an expression looking just as thrown by everything that's happening as he is.
"Don't just stand there!" he shouts, although it's hard to say if he's telling them to flee or help.
Flame and Fury Hunters. Jonathan has had his fair share of encounters there and while he doubts that Loren means the Guard of Priwen, it's difficult not to imagine them with the word. But he cannot imagine them going to such extremes as to set their own city on fire and endanger the lives of innocents. That doesn't sit well with him and Jonathan of course intends to help, although facing fire is not going to be an easy task. He'll have to trust that this shield they spoke of would protect him as they said.
It looks like it won't take him long to have to find out either; even with the flames he can hear and smell so much more than expected, enough that his head aches and he winces, reaching out blindly to grab whoever is close enough.
"There's someone in that building," he says, pointing with his other hand towards one engulfed in flames. "On the ground floor, unconscious... they may be hurt."
Rest for the Weary Dawn is close enough that Jonathan is exhausted, his body aching for sleep and vaguely pre-occupied by the thought at the back of his mind that he'd need to be inside soon. But there are people who need help, injuries that need tending, and he's still a doctor. Fortunately it would seem his bag of supplies came with him, and while he hadn't had much while on his way out of London the night he'd been seemingly plucked from, he had bandages and the basic tools of his trade, and more importantly he had training.
Hopefully no one will really notice if at times the doctor has to look away, his jaw clenched and his eyes shut, as he exhales slowly while stitching a wound or binding a particularly nasty cut. It's certainly better than the alternative.
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His Jewel is a deep, bloody red and he cannot help but wonder about the significance of that when the scream pierces his dreams, an echo of a sound he still hears in his mind sometimes, and Jonathan's eyes snap open to see a figure looming over him. His eyes can pick out the details easily in the blessed darkness, and he's briefly grateful for the fact that he awoke to night instead of painful daylight.
But there's the glint of a gun and Jonathan reacts, moving in a blur to shove the figure away with a feral snarl. He wants to throw them back and sink fangs into their neck and feed, but he fights the urge, instead grabbing for the gun to try and disarm instead of kill. Despite his rage, the figure fights back and Jonathan yells as a knife instead sinks into his shoulder and he staggers back against the door. The other man is on him again in a moment and the tussle carries them out into the corridor and Jonathan catches sight of someone nearby and a glimpse of an expression looking just as thrown by everything that's happening as he is.
"Don't just stand there!" he shouts, although it's hard to say if he's telling them to flee or help.
Flame and Fury
Hunters. Jonathan has had his fair share of encounters there and while he doubts that Loren means the Guard of Priwen, it's difficult not to imagine them with the word. But he cannot imagine them going to such extremes as to set their own city on fire and endanger the lives of innocents. That doesn't sit well with him and Jonathan of course intends to help, although facing fire is not going to be an easy task. He'll have to trust that this shield they spoke of would protect him as they said.
It looks like it won't take him long to have to find out either; even with the flames he can hear and smell so much more than expected, enough that his head aches and he winces, reaching out blindly to grab whoever is close enough.
"There's someone in that building," he says, pointing with his other hand towards one engulfed in flames. "On the ground floor, unconscious... they may be hurt."
Rest for the Weary
Dawn is close enough that Jonathan is exhausted, his body aching for sleep and vaguely pre-occupied by the thought at the back of his mind that he'd need to be inside soon. But there are people who need help, injuries that need tending, and he's still a doctor. Fortunately it would seem his bag of supplies came with him, and while he hadn't had much while on his way out of London the night he'd been seemingly plucked from, he had bandages and the basic tools of his trade, and more importantly he had training.
Hopefully no one will really notice if at times the doctor has to look away, his jaw clenched and his eyes shut, as he exhales slowly while stitching a wound or binding a particularly nasty cut. It's certainly better than the alternative.