angels calling
Who: Angeal, Elfé, and Shera
When: After a long game of telephone Sephiroth calls Shera and Shera contacts Angeal for help.
Location: Midgar Ruins
Rating: PG-13 (for extensive injuries)
Summary: Angeal and Shera come to Elfé's aid.
Blissful oblivion faded back (or rather, foward) into the dull, throbbing pain of consciousness. Her eyes slid open, but she remained still for a few moments, trying to recall and assess her present situation. Her phone was lying a few inches away, screen cracked from the impact of being carelessly dropped. Her cure materia had also been strewn nearby, and her eyes narrowed on the green orb.
Had Sephiroth left her to bleed out, to die a dog's death? That didn't seem right... He had been speaking to someone, and bothered to cure her so that he could--
She winced, the memory stirring her attention back to her unsightly wound. The bone would likely heal without much residuum, but the deep mark of his Masamune would doubtlessly scar. The insult was infuriating, but perhaps moreso was the harsh reality that she had been that much weaker than him. And not for the first time, Elfé felt her pride rage and overtake her routine disinterest.
Though she couldn't move her left arm (courtesy of the broken collarbone), she felt strength returning to her right. The wound behind that shoulder had already closed, however, her hand was still bleeding messily. (Sephiroth's half-hearted healing really hadn't done much other than keep her barely living, and adequately in torment.) The time materia was protesting again in its haphazard niche within her palm, and she grit her teeth, flexing her hand back to force it out of her flesh. It slipped out unceremoniously and rolled a half meter away, leaving a crimson trail behind it.
The girl was about to reach for her cure when her eyes caught sight of a single-winged figure overhead, and she froze in apprehension.
...But it wasn't him, she realized, as a fallen white feather brushed her cheek.
When: After a long game of telephone Sephiroth calls Shera and Shera contacts Angeal for help.
Location: Midgar Ruins
Rating: PG-13 (for extensive injuries)
Summary: Angeal and Shera come to Elfé's aid.
Blissful oblivion faded back (or rather, foward) into the dull, throbbing pain of consciousness. Her eyes slid open, but she remained still for a few moments, trying to recall and assess her present situation. Her phone was lying a few inches away, screen cracked from the impact of being carelessly dropped. Her cure materia had also been strewn nearby, and her eyes narrowed on the green orb.
Had Sephiroth left her to bleed out, to die a dog's death? That didn't seem right... He had been speaking to someone, and bothered to cure her so that he could--
She winced, the memory stirring her attention back to her unsightly wound. The bone would likely heal without much residuum, but the deep mark of his Masamune would doubtlessly scar. The insult was infuriating, but perhaps moreso was the harsh reality that she had been that much weaker than him. And not for the first time, Elfé felt her pride rage and overtake her routine disinterest.
Though she couldn't move her left arm (courtesy of the broken collarbone), she felt strength returning to her right. The wound behind that shoulder had already closed, however, her hand was still bleeding messily. (Sephiroth's half-hearted healing really hadn't done much other than keep her barely living, and adequately in torment.) The time materia was protesting again in its haphazard niche within her palm, and she grit her teeth, flexing her hand back to force it out of her flesh. It slipped out unceremoniously and rolled a half meter away, leaving a crimson trail behind it.
The girl was about to reach for her cure when her eyes caught sight of a single-winged figure overhead, and she froze in apprehension.
...But it wasn't him, she realized, as a fallen white feather brushed her cheek.