{ all alone, he's holding his breath half to death }

[iluphone]

Who: Kunsel Reinhardt (iluphone), Angeal Hewley (banoraboy), Zack Fair neverwinged), and open to Sion Ashe (preposterism) and Cloud Strife (still_moseying).
When: Same morning as when Zack's S.O.S. goes out.
Location: Near Sion's house, Midgar.
Rating: PG-13 for swearing, hallucinations, seizures, Zack, and other distressing things of that nature.
Summary: Sephiroth takes a little more from Kunsel

Comments

[neverwinged]

It probably would've been better if Zack had been on the ground like Angeal had thought. It would've been considerably less frightening of a spectacle if he was curled up on the ground and bleeding.

Unfortunately, that wouldn't be the case. Zack didn't know how long he'd waited there after sending out his message for help; he was even more surprised that he hadn't passed out yet. Everything still hurt to an unimaginable extent, and the blood, he'd lost a lot of it. And his left shoulder felt so heavy. He still had no idea where all those feathers had come from

[preposterism]

Had he been dreaming? He couldn't recall. The images slipped away as quickly as they came... the whispers of twisting fire and roiling Mako, cruel eyes, harsh laughter. A glint of silver hair... or was it a sword? It all passed, and when his vision came back he saw and remembered nothing but the worn ceiling above.

The second time Sion woke up after his return from the Lifestream was no better than the first--if anything, it was worse. Last time, the world merely looked like it had been through Hell. This time, he felt like he'd been dragged along. Haha, maybe he was still dead---

---Nope, that was definitely a hangover. And that was definitely Kunsel's goddamn phone ringing.

But the blond was nowhere to be found and, well, neither was anyone else for that matter. For some reason, the text hadn't been forwarded to his PHS, which gave him a vague inkling that something had gone horribly wrong. Or that everyone--especially Zack--just really despised him, especially after all the things he'd said last night... Ah well, not that he

[neverwinged]

Instinct kicked in as Zack leaned into Angeal's hand, almost nuzzling but without the right amount of strength to do so properly, so it was more of a lean and a palm rub with his forehead. He smiled even as Angeal's other hand passed over his chest, whimpering any time it hurt, but still smiling. Because Angeal was here, so now all the pain would go away. Any minute now.

There was another cry as he was lifted partly off the pipe - gods, it hurt even more, but only briefly once his weight was off it, though it didn't stop his nails (right hand, it hurt far too much to move the left) digging into Angeal's broad shoulder. But this was better, so . . . why was Angeal looking at him like that

[preposterism]

It took a meticulous amount of time before the pipe was completely and safely dislodged, and Sion cast another Cure to close up the injury before kneeling to work on the broken legs. (He imagined it would be rather painful to try and lower Zack to the ground with limbs that wouldn't support him.)

Sion was admittedly a bit worn after that last round (having been out of practice for years), but thankfully his next task didn't require nearly as much delicacy as the first had. He tipped back one of his spare ethers, and murmured an apology to Zack. The good news? The pain would be relatively quick. The bad news?

CRUNCH. He forced the bones back into proper alignment while simultaneously blasting a third-level Cure, hoping it would kick in before the pain did. He repeated on the procedure on the other leg, and with the help of Angeal, carefully lowered Zack onto his right side

[neverwinged]

For the most part, Zack wasn't entirely aware of what exactly was going on. It was difficult to focus on something that wasn't the unbelievably weird feeling of the pipe being removed, quickly followed by the always weird (but not on the same level, and also appreciative) warmth spreading from what must've been another Cure spell to his midsection. Unfortunately not enough warmth; everything was still far too cold for his liking, and he was probably shivering enough to get that point across.

It wasn't a feeling he had to focus on for long. Normally that would've been a good thing, but almost immediately after removal of the metal there was the sickening sensation (and the sound, Shiva, the only thing that kept Zack from getting sick was his lack of energy to do so) of the bones in his legs crushing - sorry, mending. A yelp might've tried to escape, but it came out more of a strangled whimper, surprising even him how he'd managed to keep all the cursing in his head