I wanna shine on in the hearts of men
Characters: Nathaniel and Raven
When: Forward dated to Monday, August 22nd. Nat's arrival in Adstringendum.
Where: Random back alley somewhere.
Rating: PG-13? Gorybits
Summary: Nathaniel arrives in Adstring. Oh, and he's also almost fatally wounded.
His bones, he vaguely realized, were sticking out of his side. Problematic.
And without Bartimaeus there to stabilize him (where was he? Where was he?), Nathaniel wasn't quite capable of remaining standing for very long. That was fine. He could lay down. Which he did- but in an action that was less 'laying down' and more 'collapsing'. Which was okay as well. He was dying, there weren't many people to make fun of him here.
Dying, dying- dead? Why wasn't he dead? Nathaniel distinctly remembered his last words to the djinni, remembered the staff exploding in light- remembered bringing the hell of glass and iron raining down on top of him and Nouda. He remembered more pain, sharp pain- and then nothing. His memory cut off there like a bad record. Nothing screaming (other than the shattering of glass, the groaning of metal), no slow, sodden goodbyes. Just... nothing.
And then he was here. Bleeding all over the gutter in some dusty back alley. His suit was ruined- the burn marks from the Pestilence still lingered, the deep cut from the silver disc bore open his shoulder, and tiny cuts from the glass had practically shredded the rest of his clothing and caused him to bleed out even further. But surely the worst of his wounds was the one in his side, as if his entire body had been torn open and burned. If he stayed like this, he wasn't going to live long- but Nathaniel was in no position to get up and look for help.
So, with a leisurely sigh, he finishes his collapsing and waits for unconsciousness.
When: Forward dated to Monday, August 22nd. Nat's arrival in Adstringendum.
Where: Random back alley somewhere.
Rating: PG-13? Gorybits
Summary: Nathaniel arrives in Adstring. Oh, and he's also almost fatally wounded.
His bones, he vaguely realized, were sticking out of his side. Problematic.
And without Bartimaeus there to stabilize him (where was he? Where was he?), Nathaniel wasn't quite capable of remaining standing for very long. That was fine. He could lay down. Which he did- but in an action that was less 'laying down' and more 'collapsing'. Which was okay as well. He was dying, there weren't many people to make fun of him here.
Dying, dying- dead? Why wasn't he dead? Nathaniel distinctly remembered his last words to the djinni, remembered the staff exploding in light- remembered bringing the hell of glass and iron raining down on top of him and Nouda. He remembered more pain, sharp pain- and then nothing. His memory cut off there like a bad record. Nothing screaming (other than the shattering of glass, the groaning of metal), no slow, sodden goodbyes. Just... nothing.
And then he was here. Bleeding all over the gutter in some dusty back alley. His suit was ruined- the burn marks from the Pestilence still lingered, the deep cut from the silver disc bore open his shoulder, and tiny cuts from the glass had practically shredded the rest of his clothing and caused him to bleed out even further. But surely the worst of his wounds was the one in his side, as if his entire body had been torn open and burned. If he stayed like this, he wasn't going to live long- but Nathaniel was in no position to get up and look for help.
So, with a leisurely sigh, he finishes his collapsing and waits for unconsciousness.