You know what they say.
Who; Balthier(fealty_to_none aaaaand open
What; Balthier out of the fire and back in the frying pan.
Where; A back alley in the marketplace
When; Earlier, this afternoon
Rating; R for mention of torture
Status; Ongoing
The Leading Man never dies, but that didn't mean he didn't have his fair share of scars. He'd have quite a few more when this was all over.
Which it was.
He had to keep reminding himself of that.
The pirate staggered, before slumping against a wall. Blood was seeping through the back of his vest and the wire woven through his skin tugged and pulled. Cringing, he sunk to his knees, his breathing heavy, erratic and his skin had a thin sheen of sweat. He knew he had a fever- something must have gone septic. Or maybe he was just sick. Mateus had, at least, been able to heal anything that might have been fatal but he had lost so much blood.
Over and over, his mind replayed the past few- ...it must have been months. Whatever it was, he could feel his consciousness slipping. He crumpled, unable to muster the strength to move from this dingy alley.
The Leading Man never dies. He kept telling himself that.
...But sometimes he needed a nap. Just a rest. To forget the pain a little bit.
What; Balthier out of the fire and back in the frying pan.
Where; A back alley in the marketplace
When; Earlier, this afternoon
Rating; R for mention of torture
Status; Ongoing
The Leading Man never dies, but that didn't mean he didn't have his fair share of scars. He'd have quite a few more when this was all over.
Which it was.
He had to keep reminding himself of that.
The pirate staggered, before slumping against a wall. Blood was seeping through the back of his vest and the wire woven through his skin tugged and pulled. Cringing, he sunk to his knees, his breathing heavy, erratic and his skin had a thin sheen of sweat. He knew he had a fever- something must have gone septic. Or maybe he was just sick. Mateus had, at least, been able to heal anything that might have been fatal but he had lost so much blood.
Over and over, his mind replayed the past few- ...it must have been months. Whatever it was, he could feel his consciousness slipping. He crumpled, unable to muster the strength to move from this dingy alley.
The Leading Man never dies. He kept telling himself that.
...But sometimes he needed a nap. Just a rest. To forget the pain a little bit.