Tadashi shuffled to the side of the portal before he stopped to gape at his new surroundings.
This was the North Pole. Santa's workshop. And that was the rock he'd tossed through the portal, being thoroughly investigated by a hoard of small jingly-hatted elves.
This was amazing. This was--
Someone was hurt. Tadashi's head whipped around before he even recognized that the thought had come from him rather than being some kind of familiar voice over a public address system. He turned on his heel and bolted for the next room, only half noticing the line of elves he'd had to hurtle in the process.
On the other side of the doorway were three people, two unharmed, one prone on a couch; and one--
"Thaaaaat's a dragon."
It didn't stop him from approaching the group though (the two conscious people didn't seem worried about it, after all), unbuttoning and removing his blazer as he focused on the unconscious man whose state had apparently been enough to set his own head ringing.
"Unconsciousness, low serotonin and norepinephrine levels," he muttered, half to himself. "High adrenaline, low body temperature, pale skin, and that's not a good look for his vitals. Is he sleeping or hallucinating?"
He bundled his blazer up his his hands and tucked it under the man's head, taking a moment to get a better look at him (clammy skin was relevant. The prosthetic leg was interesting, but not relevant to the situation at hand).
no subject
This was the North Pole. Santa's workshop. And that was the rock he'd tossed through the portal, being thoroughly investigated by a hoard of small jingly-hatted elves.
This was amazing. This was--
Someone was hurt. Tadashi's head whipped around before he even recognized that the thought had come from him rather than being some kind of familiar voice over a public address system. He turned on his heel and bolted for the next room, only half noticing the line of elves he'd had to hurtle in the process.
On the other side of the doorway were three people, two unharmed, one prone on a couch; and one--
"Thaaaaat's a dragon."
It didn't stop him from approaching the group though (the two conscious people didn't seem worried about it, after all), unbuttoning and removing his blazer as he focused on the unconscious man whose state had apparently been enough to set his own head ringing.
"Unconsciousness, low serotonin and norepinephrine levels," he muttered, half to himself. "High adrenaline, low body temperature, pale skin, and that's not a good look for his vitals. Is he sleeping or hallucinating?"
He bundled his blazer up his his hands and tucked it under the man's head, taking a moment to get a better look at him (clammy skin was relevant. The prosthetic leg was interesting, but not relevant to the situation at hand).
"What happened here?"