[Dragon Quest VIII - Angelo/Jessica] #20 - A bit of colour
Title: Antidote
Author: rgbrobbie
Pairing: Angelo/Jessica
Fandom: Dragon Quest VIII
Theme: #20 - A bit of colour
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: These toys are the property of Square Enix and Akira Toriyama, but I like to play with them.
Antidote
Jessica fears he is dying. White on white against the inn’s sheets, he looks ghostly, insubstantial. Even his silver hair seems bleached, a colorless spill across the pillows propping his lolling head.
Angelo has lain still and asleep for hours now, despite blasts of healing magic; despite the visit from the village’s elderly, confused priest who murmured a few words-not even the right ones to squelch poison, she thinks bitterly-over him and then merely departed; despite their many attempts to wake him, and her own futile prayers.
The fetid swamp splashed purple on their boots as they searched for him for the better part of an afternoon. How stupid of him, to leave the path, and their sides-“I’ll just be a moment”-to retrieve one miserable arrow too easily replaced at the next town. How careless of him, to allow himself to be dragged off by nameless attackers with nary a cry. When, at sunset, they at last found him-bound to the trunk of a twisted tree, slumped and faded to an inhuman pallor and gasping for breath-even as she unfastened his hands and braced his forward topple, with a final rasp his breathing stopped. At least the battle against the boil of toxic corpses that had taken him as bait was brief, vicious, and triumphant for their side. Yet, while a hastily-cast healing spell triggered his stuttered gasp for air, it-and all the magic that followed-did nothing more to return him fully to life.
His hand stays cold and limp. She’s held it for hours, her fingers laced into his lax grip, waiting for any sign that he is coming back to them. Blankets have not warmed him; perhaps something else might….
At a loss, she bends to place a kiss on his cold, white cheek; but instead, at the last moment she whispers into his ear, “You know, I’ll be just furious at you if you die.”
When she draws away, wiping at her tears, she at last catches a glimpse of clear, crystalline blue beneath fluttering lashes, and the hand clutched in hers finally squeezes back.
~fin~
Author: rgbrobbie
Pairing: Angelo/Jessica
Fandom: Dragon Quest VIII
Theme: #20 - A bit of colour
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: These toys are the property of Square Enix and Akira Toriyama, but I like to play with them.
Antidote
Jessica fears he is dying. White on white against the inn’s sheets, he looks ghostly, insubstantial. Even his silver hair seems bleached, a colorless spill across the pillows propping his lolling head.
Angelo has lain still and asleep for hours now, despite blasts of healing magic; despite the visit from the village’s elderly, confused priest who murmured a few words-not even the right ones to squelch poison, she thinks bitterly-over him and then merely departed; despite their many attempts to wake him, and her own futile prayers.
The fetid swamp splashed purple on their boots as they searched for him for the better part of an afternoon. How stupid of him, to leave the path, and their sides-“I’ll just be a moment”-to retrieve one miserable arrow too easily replaced at the next town. How careless of him, to allow himself to be dragged off by nameless attackers with nary a cry. When, at sunset, they at last found him-bound to the trunk of a twisted tree, slumped and faded to an inhuman pallor and gasping for breath-even as she unfastened his hands and braced his forward topple, with a final rasp his breathing stopped. At least the battle against the boil of toxic corpses that had taken him as bait was brief, vicious, and triumphant for their side. Yet, while a hastily-cast healing spell triggered his stuttered gasp for air, it-and all the magic that followed-did nothing more to return him fully to life.
His hand stays cold and limp. She’s held it for hours, her fingers laced into his lax grip, waiting for any sign that he is coming back to them. Blankets have not warmed him; perhaps something else might….
At a loss, she bends to place a kiss on his cold, white cheek; but instead, at the last moment she whispers into his ear, “You know, I’ll be just furious at you if you die.”
When she draws away, wiping at her tears, she at last catches a glimpse of clear, crystalline blue beneath fluttering lashes, and the hand clutched in hers finally squeezes back.
~fin~