ϡ 3rd Feather | Video |
[ It has come to a point where Altaïr can no longer survive on just his own skills, his own ego alone. It's fumblingly that he's managed to get the tablet on. His left hand is soaked in blood; bandaged at the stump of where his finger was removed. So too is blood running down his lip where he carries his scar. He's breathing heavily, and more worryingly- wetly. What little can be seen of his white robes, from the shoulders up is heavily stained. Only the hood and small patches of white seem to have escaped unscathed.
He parts his lips to speak, but his eyes go a little glazed, a little unfocused, and unexpectedly his head lurches forward, the tablet clattering to the ground as the assassin follows. A shuddered breath escapes him, and for a few moments he simply lays there, letting the camera continue to record, giving a view of the sloping cave roof high, high above. But with a grunt, and a soft moan of pain Altaïr forces himself back up, arms shaking with the strain of the effort. His bleeding hand presses against his abdomen as his other hand fumbles at the tablet again, the device slick with his own blood. He manages to get his hand on it and with effort pulls it towards him, lifting it so that he can look at it properly once more.
He swallows his pride with an obvious grimace, and manages out ] Harry Dresden-
[ He hesitates, and his grimace deepens. He is not very adept at asking for help. Also he has no idea how to set this thing to private. His head slumps again, but this time he catches himself. Closes his eyes, focuses and inhales sharply- but exhales slow as he can manage. He may have called for Harry, but the video is visible to all, and his need is obvious. ]
I am in need of aid. I had heard of a clinic-
I fear I may be too late to reach it.
[ He has long since disposed of his heavy leather belt at his waist, and instead is carefully pulling open his robe to examine where his abdomen continues to steadily bleed. With a hiss, his hand returns to it, pressing hard to try and at least stem the flow once more.
He had been able to deal with the other injuries, the other scars. But when the puncture wound at his gut, delivered by his master's hand had reopened- Altaïr had well understood that this was now beyond him. ]
He parts his lips to speak, but his eyes go a little glazed, a little unfocused, and unexpectedly his head lurches forward, the tablet clattering to the ground as the assassin follows. A shuddered breath escapes him, and for a few moments he simply lays there, letting the camera continue to record, giving a view of the sloping cave roof high, high above. But with a grunt, and a soft moan of pain Altaïr forces himself back up, arms shaking with the strain of the effort. His bleeding hand presses against his abdomen as his other hand fumbles at the tablet again, the device slick with his own blood. He manages to get his hand on it and with effort pulls it towards him, lifting it so that he can look at it properly once more.
He swallows his pride with an obvious grimace, and manages out ] Harry Dresden-
[ He hesitates, and his grimace deepens. He is not very adept at asking for help. Also he has no idea how to set this thing to private. His head slumps again, but this time he catches himself. Closes his eyes, focuses and inhales sharply- but exhales slow as he can manage. He may have called for Harry, but the video is visible to all, and his need is obvious. ]
I am in need of aid. I had heard of a clinic-
I fear I may be too late to reach it.
[ He has long since disposed of his heavy leather belt at his waist, and instead is carefully pulling open his robe to examine where his abdomen continues to steadily bleed. With a hiss, his hand returns to it, pressing hard to try and at least stem the flow once more.
He had been able to deal with the other injuries, the other scars. But when the puncture wound at his gut, delivered by his master's hand had reopened- Altaïr had well understood that this was now beyond him. ]