In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.

[thalassino]

Wednesday. 7pm. A calm, normal day in Vatheon. Nothing betrays what is coming. And yet the signs were there, if only someone had been able to see them for what they were

Comments

[behisstrength]

[Gentle as Mitsuhide is in his inspection, Motochika still swallows against the flare of discomfort, hissing an exhale once or twice. The prognosis isn't too bad, though he is somewhat dismayed that he didn't get away with merely bruising his ribs.

He does not look forward to spending weeks feeling tender. He has never been fond of his own weakness; it doesn't suit him at all.

Motochika catches Mitsuhide's other hand in his, grasping it tightly as he lets his eyes fall shut. He huffs in response, the sound caught somewhere between amusement and aching.

Mitsuhide is rattled; his lover's emotional fragility concerns him more than his own injuries. His body will heal, as good as new -- Mitsuhide's trauma is nothing so smooth or easy. Under any other circumstances he would confront the issue, but his concussion leaves him unprepared. He must wait a day or two for his full clarity and sharpness to return, reluctant as he is to leave the wound to fester. Still, he finds important words to share after a moment: blunt and honest, necessary to say.]

It was not luck's quick action that ensured my life was safe.

[He squeezed Mitsuhide's hand, momentarily opening his eyes again to give a pointed look as he emphasised the truth.]

Only yours.

[wavesoakedlegs]

[Mitsuhide's head tips forward, fringe hiding much of his face.]

I could not fail you.

[There is a part of him that never stops feeling responsible for all of the deaths that occured during the Battle of Yamazaki. He feels that guilt again now, not as raw but still just as painful, as he recalls Motochika's last breath that day. Letting that happen again...]

I could not.

[It was unthinkable.]

[behisstrength]

[Motochika lets go of Mitsuhide's hand to reach upwards and brush back one side of his lover's fringe. Depth of feeling has always been Mitsuhide's greatest strength and greatest weakness. It is a grave responsiblity to hold Mitsuhide's heart; in life Motochika gives Mitsuhide love without comparison, in death, despair without respite.

(It does not matter that in his own recollections they won at Yamazaki, his strength unbroken.)

Even concussed, Motochika knows that they cannot afford to have Mitsuhide lost to his sorrows right now.]

I am here, Mitsuhide. Stay with me in the present.

[wavesoakedlegs]

[Mitsuhide takes a deep, shuddering breath, and then nods slightly. It's true; there is no real time to get caught up in this. He cannot push the feelings away, but he needs to get Motochika to one of the safe areas. No doubt it will be impossible to keep his ahead above the water when they are there, but for now...]

I...

[He lifts his head up again, slightly, and then shakes it a little. His feelings show clearly on his face still.]

Mmm. We should not stay here for much longer. When you feel capable, we will make the full journey. I will support you.

[behisstrength]

Very well.

[Motochika takes a moment to steel himself, before opening his eyes and rising to his feet. He exhales, needing a handful of seconds for the rush of disorientation and discomfort from moving to recede to lower levels.]

[wavesoakedlegs]

[Mitsuhide picks up Motochika's shamisen and then slides his arm around his lover again, taking some of his weight and holding on firmly. They have a bit of a way to go, and will have to take it slowly, but that is fine. He will do what is necessary to ensure Motochika is safe.]

When you need to stop, just say so.

[They would have to find a healer as well, when they got to proper safety. Mitsuhide tenses up briefly, before putting all focus into the task ahead. He waits a minute before starting to walk.]

[behisstrength]

All right.

[What Motochika doesn't say is that he isn't likely to stop unless he's in immediate danger of throwing up or finding it hard to breathe -- he has a feeling that Mitsuhide might choose to stop on his behalf before he requests it.

At least the kinder pace is far less jarring than their run from immediate danger; it hurts less and the world seems much more stable to his aching head. Mitsuhide's firm hold is a comfort, steadying him. There is still strain in his breathing and his jaw stays tight, but the discomfort is not enough to draw any sounds of pain from him.]