fixin' time.
Characters: Reyson, Senju, Jordan.
Content: Senju takes Reyson to Jordan's clinic for some much-needed patching up.
Location: The clinic.
Time of day: Late evening.
Warnings: Blood, wounds, etc.
It was a longer walk than Reyson had expected, and although he had Senju to lean his weight upon, he was beginning to feel terribly exhausted. The shock and numbness was beginning to wear away, and he felt sore from head to foot. His head ached, and his vision was blurry, and he had to fight at the despair that was beginning to lap at his feet again. Darkness was falling, and Reyson had to rely solely on Senju to choose their path -- he was a stranger to these lands, and herons possessed very poor night vision. So he kept his gaze focused on the ground, his tired head low, pale, dusty hair tumbling against his face and eyes.
It was a slow walk, considering that he had only one foot to rely upon. The other he kept aloft, although that, too, proved more difficult than he had expected it to be. It was instinctual to put one's foot down when walking, and more than once he had accidentally done so -- he had hissed in pain, and soon had been conditioned not to do so anymore. Yet he didn't complain. He didn't talk at all, in fact. He remained leaned upon his savior, slim fingers tangled in the fabric at his shoulder, holding him fast, a bleary mind wondering just how much farther they had to go.
Content: Senju takes Reyson to Jordan's clinic for some much-needed patching up.
Location: The clinic.
Time of day: Late evening.
Warnings: Blood, wounds, etc.
It was a longer walk than Reyson had expected, and although he had Senju to lean his weight upon, he was beginning to feel terribly exhausted. The shock and numbness was beginning to wear away, and he felt sore from head to foot. His head ached, and his vision was blurry, and he had to fight at the despair that was beginning to lap at his feet again. Darkness was falling, and Reyson had to rely solely on Senju to choose their path -- he was a stranger to these lands, and herons possessed very poor night vision. So he kept his gaze focused on the ground, his tired head low, pale, dusty hair tumbling against his face and eyes.
It was a slow walk, considering that he had only one foot to rely upon. The other he kept aloft, although that, too, proved more difficult than he had expected it to be. It was instinctual to put one's foot down when walking, and more than once he had accidentally done so -- he had hissed in pain, and soon had been conditioned not to do so anymore. Yet he didn't complain. He didn't talk at all, in fact. He remained leaned upon his savior, slim fingers tangled in the fabric at his shoulder, holding him fast, a bleary mind wondering just how much farther they had to go.