Gunshots like Lullabies
Who: Naruto Uzumaki (couragetodare) and Scar (lonestray)
When: November 3rd-ish. After this.
Where: City outskirts, near the ruins.
Format: Paragraph, present tense.
What: Scar, Naruto, the inability to move on and the urge to look back.
Warnings: I have no idea. Some blood?
( ... )
When: November 3rd-ish. After this.
Where: City outskirts, near the ruins.
Format: Paragraph, present tense.
What: Scar, Naruto, the inability to move on and the urge to look back.
Warnings: I have no idea. Some blood?
( ... )
If the boy had openly stated his primary intention in meeting him to be finding out if he was all right, he would have stubbornly refused, insisting he was fine, as he had with the girl who had claimed she was a doctor. He'd doubted it, considering how young the voice had sounded, but it didn't matter whether she had medical skills or not. His wounds were not life threatening--they were an inconvenience, yes, but only that.
If he could have escaped from gunfire on similar wounds in his own world in the past, surely he could avoid simple beasts...
And it wasn't like he planned on going into the mist again, not for a while. Perhaps not ever again, not unless he had to. Because...next time...he didn't trust himself not to stay. Scar was a guarded individual, careful to the brink of being almost paranoid. It came with the territory of being a fugitive. He'd wanted to leave at first, the drifter in him itching to move on before anything happened, nevermind that no one was pursuing him, here. He couldn't sleep for more than a few hours at a time, even though he had a bed and a roof over his head and a door and four walls to keep others out, luxuries he hadn't had for over three years. He hadn't eaten in the three days since arriving, and honestly he didn't remember when the last time was he'd eaten back in Amestris.
Despite all his carefulness and guardedness and general solitary...ness, he'd been completely unprepared for what he'd seen in that mist when he'd ventured out into it. The powerful, resilient barrier he'd created between himself and everything else in the world had been utterly shattered. His psyche was still picking up the pieces, and he'd been even more terse than usual to those who had offered their concern over the network.
And then...that boy, who didn't ask him if he was all right. It was different, but...still strangely comforting. It was what he was used to. A small semblance of return to "normalcy", or at least perhaps, the status quo. His being distant and others leaving him be.
He didn't pry for details, and even shared some of his own experience...and took up his invitation on the network for someone to take the carcass of that creature that had attacked him. Perhaps the effect of the encounter would be the same, but to Scar...it felt less threatening than the overt offers of help.
His eyes are scanning the area repeatedly, waiting for the boy to show up as well as searching for other threats that might approach. He's no longer in the mist, but that doesn't mean creatures can't still approach; the creatures, unlike the memories, are very much real, mist or not. When he sees the raised hand, he says nothing, only raises his hand in response--his left, right arm still wrapped around his injured side.
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Naruto had purposefully skirted around the topic of Scar's wounds while talking to him over the network. He had seen his some of the man's conversation with his teammate, so he had understood quickly enough that asking him if he was injured, asking him if he wanted help, was the wrong route to take. Scar's reaction to Sakura's offer of assistance reminded him too much of someone else he knew, and so Naruto's approach was the same as it would have been for that person.
Though from talking to him so far, Scar wasn't nearly as overtly hostile as Sasuke.
Not a bad thing by any means, but Naruto would have been willing to bet that pelt he wanted that Scar wasn't about to let Naruto take a look at his injuries if asked. And he would have been willing to bet that a good way to garner hostility would be by pushing to take a look.
Thing was, Naruto had a tendency to push, and he did not think that blood was a good sign. You didn't have to know someone to be worried about their welfare and as far as Naruto was concerned, every last Scorched in this place shared a common ground in that none of them had been asked to come here. Just like World's End. Just like Atia.
History, on repeat.
He pushed himself from the pillar to land a few metres from the injured man. This stranger was built like a rock- he looked strong, he looked like he could fight. Hell, he looked to Naruto like he had been through a few fights in fact, and Naruto wondered briefly if the thing he killed was what caused those injuries or if it was something else encountered in the mist.
"Third time was 'cause I started bleeding. A lot."
... picking up from where he left off in their network correspondence. though he realised his comment was a bit random then and shrugged, slightly sheepish.
His jacket was wrapped around his waist, there was a small backpack slung across his shoulders, and he pulled that off first, glancing at...
Well, he didn't know this guy's name.
"Naruto," he offered, by way of an introduction. Fair trade, a name for a name? It was his way of greeting the other properly as he turned his eyes pointedly on the dead animal still lying on the ground. There was no scrutiny of the criss-cross scar on the man's face, nor the wound he sported. Though Naruto did want to get a better look at that wound.
He was still trying to think of a way around that.
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"Just...bleeding? On your own, without being cut?"
He was perfectly content to pick up the conversation where it left off. Would have been perfectly content to have not picked it back up at all. Either way, it hardly makes a difference to him. And that Naruto is still not drawing attention to his wound (which he got the feeling would come up in this conversation regardless, but he certainly wouldn't be the one to start it) certainly makes this easier. Whether or not he can offer any help was not at issue to him. He's not letting anyone that close. Too dangerous, not enough room to defend himself if Naruto's intentions are not as benign as they seem.
His right arm was currently occupied with keeping the blood at bay. The shoulder wound wasn't quite so deep; he'd leave it be for now. It was also a structural support, as well. The (three, four?) broken ribs from being smashed through that concrete wall back in Laboratory 5 were still there, and exacerbating them by fighting monsters certainly hadn't helped. His arm was a makeshift splint, albeit a very poor one. But it also meant it wasn't free to fight with. And considering its destructive abilities were his only actual means of fighting, aside from punches and kicks (which would be ineffective in the face of actual weapons), he wasn't willing to take that chance.
Naruto. The simple statement was itself enough to make him flinch. A statement of a personal fact, an implicit request for reciprocation. He disliked that question, in particular. "...I've been called...Scar." And the scowl deepened just a bit, because he knew it will seem odd. He knew it is likely to be questioned.
But he made no further move to continue the conversation, even to cursorily hand the boy the carcass he'd come for. Partially because it's heavy, because it'll be a pain in the ass to lift again (not that the pain itself is enough to deter him; he's used to dealing with--and ignoring--pain). Partially because he's still watching, still testing his footing with this "Naruto." If he wants the animal badly enough, he can come and get it.
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