(no subject)
Characters: Agravaine (nevermercy) & Gawain (decayingly)
Date/Time: June 1st, afternoon
Location: Mercy Hospital, Long Island
Rating: TBA
Warnings: TBA
Summary: One died. The other thinks this one's a fake. Stuff of legends.
The bed was annoyingly uncomfortable. The sheets, those seemed like paper, felt like it against every scratch which hadn’t miraculously disappeared. The pillow behind his head could have been a rock, for all the comfort it was bringing him. It was no wonder Gawain wanted nothing more than leave that place and forget it existed. His doctors and, more importantly, his chest thought otherwise.
They had wondered, puzzled over the strange scar displayed all over his chest. Something that serious, they had remarked, it should have been extremely serious - deadly so - Where had it been treated? - never - When had it happened? - yesterday - By what? The knight gave them all blank glances, choosing to keep silent and allow the painkillers do the work for him. A few annoyed words and they were off on their way, to their little microscopes or someone who was actually in danger. He wasn’t. Not anymore. Once the door closed on their back though, that was when he allowed himself the same bitter smile which had followed that wound.
He remembered, every detail as clear as if it had happened moments before. Even in dreams the being haunted him, chased and murdered him all over again. It was no comfort that he had managed to take it down. He was breathing, who was to say that angel wasn’t walking somewhere, harming someone else? His chest ached again in reply, reminding him yet again of what had happened. In a futile movement, Gawain placed one hand above the injury as if to sooth it, keep it asleep while he recovered. It brought yet another problem to mind, annoyance replacing any lack of comfort.
Why had he spoken anything online? He should have remained silent, waited until he was out of that hospital instead of advertising his problem to everyone who would listen. But they had commanded him to live and he hadn’t. Gawain knew he had to apologize - his drug addled mind did. Now he had his brother on his way - probably to finish the job - and he didn’t feel strong enough to rise from a bed.
Wonderful.
Date/Time: June 1st, afternoon
Location: Mercy Hospital, Long Island
Rating: TBA
Warnings: TBA
Summary: One died. The other thinks this one's a fake. Stuff of legends.
The bed was annoyingly uncomfortable. The sheets, those seemed like paper, felt like it against every scratch which hadn’t miraculously disappeared. The pillow behind his head could have been a rock, for all the comfort it was bringing him. It was no wonder Gawain wanted nothing more than leave that place and forget it existed. His doctors and, more importantly, his chest thought otherwise.
They had wondered, puzzled over the strange scar displayed all over his chest. Something that serious, they had remarked, it should have been extremely serious - deadly so - Where had it been treated? - never - When had it happened? - yesterday - By what? The knight gave them all blank glances, choosing to keep silent and allow the painkillers do the work for him. A few annoyed words and they were off on their way, to their little microscopes or someone who was actually in danger. He wasn’t. Not anymore. Once the door closed on their back though, that was when he allowed himself the same bitter smile which had followed that wound.
He remembered, every detail as clear as if it had happened moments before. Even in dreams the being haunted him, chased and murdered him all over again. It was no comfort that he had managed to take it down. He was breathing, who was to say that angel wasn’t walking somewhere, harming someone else? His chest ached again in reply, reminding him yet again of what had happened. In a futile movement, Gawain placed one hand above the injury as if to sooth it, keep it asleep while he recovered. It brought yet another problem to mind, annoyance replacing any lack of comfort.
Why had he spoken anything online? He should have remained silent, waited until he was out of that hospital instead of advertising his problem to everyone who would listen. But they had commanded him to live and he hadn’t. Gawain knew he had to apologize - his drug addled mind did. Now he had his brother on his way - probably to finish the job - and he didn’t feel strong enough to rise from a bed.
Wonderful.