Of All The Worst Possible Times
Characters: Garnet and Larsa
Content: A startling post on the network brings a worried little emperor on a search for a presumably fallen princess
Setting: Initially hallway of the VII, possibly elsewhere
Time: After the monster attack
Warnings: Cute?
There was a distinctly dull throb pulsating in Larsa's right shoulder upon lowering his communicator into his lap. It had been aching terribly ever since the ship had shifted, completely wiping the prince off his feet along with Matilda's, whom he'd sworn to protect during the attack. In a rush to keep the girl from harm, he'd shielded her from colliding harshly with the wall, and instead took the blunt of the damage. Suffice to say, his shoulder had not taken too kindly with meeting the other side of the corridor. It was only now that the pain radiated up and down the small boy's arm, originating from the throb that seemed to beat almost like a second heartbeat.
It was Lady Garnet's post that set him on edge. Her voice had seemed weary, as if she'd been on the verge of collapsing. After not receiving a reply of any shape or form from the older girl, Larsa could feel an uneasiness stirring in his chest. If Lady Garnet was ill and had indeed fallen victim to unconscious, he would have to see to it that she was all right.
Shoulder throbbing terribly, the young emperor pushed off from where he sat, not quite knowing where to start. He sincerely doubted he would find her collapsed in the hallway, but if this fear within him had anything to say about it, that was where she would be. And with this threat of monsters still ebbing at his core, the boy picked up the pace, one small fist clenched tightly.
To say that Larsa's heart stopped upon setting his sights on Lady Garnet would be an understatement. A chill slithered down his back as he eventually located the girl a few corridors away, looking at though she were sleeping, had it not been for the awkward position she lay in. Immediately he sprung to her side, and with a surprisingly calm hand, parted the ebony hair from her face, as though to assess it really was her. Indeed, it was the Lady Garnet. The brunet's breath stilled in his chest as he removed a glove from one hand to feel her pulse.
He had to bring her to a safe place.
But where?
Fully acknowledging that he did not have the strength to lift her into his arms, Larsa, feeling a rather sharp pang of guilt -- hence the quiet "Forgive me" he whispered by her ear -- wrapped his hold around the girls midsection and proceeded to drag her toward the nearest room. Unfortunately, this was the kitchen, which had suffered in the wake of the ship tilting. With some effort, the boy propped her up against a collection of floor cupboards, making sure she would not tip over whilst he dashed off to find one of the passengers.
Moments later, the little prince returned with a comforter and pillow, concern washing over his young face once again. The Lady Garnet was soon laid upon a makeshift mattress, head gently lowered upon the pillow.
Larsa placed his ungloved hand over her forehead. "My Lady?"
There was no response, and slipping his hand into hers, he waited patiently for her to wake.
Content: A startling post on the network brings a worried little emperor on a search for a presumably fallen princess
Setting: Initially hallway of the VII, possibly elsewhere
Time: After the monster attack
Warnings: Cute?
There was a distinctly dull throb pulsating in Larsa's right shoulder upon lowering his communicator into his lap. It had been aching terribly ever since the ship had shifted, completely wiping the prince off his feet along with Matilda's, whom he'd sworn to protect during the attack. In a rush to keep the girl from harm, he'd shielded her from colliding harshly with the wall, and instead took the blunt of the damage. Suffice to say, his shoulder had not taken too kindly with meeting the other side of the corridor. It was only now that the pain radiated up and down the small boy's arm, originating from the throb that seemed to beat almost like a second heartbeat.
It was Lady Garnet's post that set him on edge. Her voice had seemed weary, as if she'd been on the verge of collapsing. After not receiving a reply of any shape or form from the older girl, Larsa could feel an uneasiness stirring in his chest. If Lady Garnet was ill and had indeed fallen victim to unconscious, he would have to see to it that she was all right.
Shoulder throbbing terribly, the young emperor pushed off from where he sat, not quite knowing where to start. He sincerely doubted he would find her collapsed in the hallway, but if this fear within him had anything to say about it, that was where she would be. And with this threat of monsters still ebbing at his core, the boy picked up the pace, one small fist clenched tightly.
To say that Larsa's heart stopped upon setting his sights on Lady Garnet would be an understatement. A chill slithered down his back as he eventually located the girl a few corridors away, looking at though she were sleeping, had it not been for the awkward position she lay in. Immediately he sprung to her side, and with a surprisingly calm hand, parted the ebony hair from her face, as though to assess it really was her. Indeed, it was the Lady Garnet. The brunet's breath stilled in his chest as he removed a glove from one hand to feel her pulse.
He had to bring her to a safe place.
But where?
Fully acknowledging that he did not have the strength to lift her into his arms, Larsa, feeling a rather sharp pang of guilt -- hence the quiet "Forgive me" he whispered by her ear -- wrapped his hold around the girls midsection and proceeded to drag her toward the nearest room. Unfortunately, this was the kitchen, which had suffered in the wake of the ship tilting. With some effort, the boy propped her up against a collection of floor cupboards, making sure she would not tip over whilst he dashed off to find one of the passengers.
Moments later, the little prince returned with a comforter and pillow, concern washing over his young face once again. The Lady Garnet was soon laid upon a makeshift mattress, head gently lowered upon the pillow.
Larsa placed his ungloved hand over her forehead. "My Lady?"
There was no response, and slipping his hand into hers, he waited patiently for her to wake.