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There is little you could do once the bolt of Arts collided with you, directly striking your side and sending you backwards towards the ground; and though he forced his body into movement as fast as possible, there is even less that Thorns could’ve done but watch you fall. It was far too late to shield you or shove you away once Ægir had started sprinting towards you.

The agony inflicted by Originium Arts is unlike that caused by a blade, arrow, or bullet. Upon its strike, a sting worsening by the second crawled beneath your skin. It burned for only a moment, the pain freezing into ice after and creating icy coils that spread to all your nerves. The force from the blast caused your weapon to fly from your hand - it hit the floor with a clatter that followed your pained cry as your back slammed into the ground.

Thorns’ voice yelling out your name was the first thing your mind registered through the agony seeping from your side. Even so, your body refused to move; you tightened your eyes shut and laid unmoving. You gasped out his name, “T-Thorns…?” Your vision was dark, but you felt Thorns drop to his knees at your side, “I’m here sunbeam, right here.”

Though his tone was calm, it didn't remain that way for much longer, “The Caster’s Arts hit just your side, it shouldn't be fatal but-” His tone was riven with nervousness - it was unlike him. Almost as if you were fragile to the point of glass, the Ægir’s hand carefully came to the back of your head and the fingers of his other pressed to your wrist. “How is your pulse already….come on, keep your eyes open.” You whimpered in reply, “Th-Thorns…can’t…it hurts…” Though you tried, your effort amounted to nothing. The pain rendered any movement, even that of lifting your eyelids, unbearable. Very soon it began to rob you of consciousness and your sense of feeling.

Thorns’ touch was on you and off you in frantic movements. He pricked a few needles into your skin to deliver injections; you didn't feel any relief from the drugs he administered to you however, and from the way his hand took yours tightly with distress, you assumed he had also noticed his medicines were failing. Even so, he asked for confirmation, “Sunbeam… is that helping?” His voice was strained, you noticed. Your own came out choked and nearly inaudible, “No…it hurts still…”

His fingers searched for your pulse again. When he found it, you began to hear his breath become sharp and uneven, “This isn't within what I calculated, I-I don't understand…The drugs should be working. Why- Why won't they work?” He continued to mutter, however your hearing was unsuccessful in processing any of it; the sole thing you did manage to feel past the agony all gripping your body was Thorns squeezing your hand even tighter and using his free arm to hold your form closer to his body. Somehow, the Ægir soothed your pain that way - albeit only slightly and for a short duration -, as he carefully cradled you and allowed you to rest your weight on his chest.

How much time passed, you couldn’t be certain, but eventually you heard nearing footfalls and voices of reinforcements calling out both your name and Thorns’ name. You feel him lift your shivering body from the ground, then rush closer to those who have come to both your aid. His voice was raised uncharacteristically with little semblance of calm as he spoke to the other Rhodes Island Operators, “We need to abandon the mission. They’ve been fatally hit, we need medical help-!” One of the reinforcements says something in reply. It caused the Ægir’s hold on you to tighten uncomfortably; you pressed into his chest, where you could hear the thumping of his heart become irregular and fearful, “They're- They're… stop wasting time!! Bring a Medic, now! They can’t afford to wait-”

Your mind was quickly failing, preventing you from hearing anymore and forcing you into unconsciousness. Thorns’ voice only lost its harshness when he addressed you and said your name, “Sunbeam, stay awake. Does it hurt the same still?”

You couldn’t reply. The pain was irate over all your limbs with such intensity that you wondered if the Arts had not hit just your side, but somehow your entire body. Staying awake was becoming harder with each passing second.

“...Sunbeam?”

You realized one last thing before everything finally went silent and dark - the arms around you were trembling.

…

You remained still as you opened your eyes, and your surroundings came into focus slowly. You refused to breathe for a moment; certain the pain from your injury would race through your nerves, you tightened your hands into fists and prepared for agony. It never came, however. As your feeling returned, you realized your body was calm - with the exception of a dull ache from your side and some numbness in your limbs.

Now fully-awake, your gaze looked to the side and scanned around to investigate the room around you. You couldn't be sure in your cloudy-minded state, but your surroundings looked like your dormitory at Rhodes Island. In any case, you were no longer on the battlefield. Your mind had begun its attempt to recollect what had happened before you fell unconscious; however every thought vanished when you caught from the corner of your eye something with untidy black hair close to you.

Your head turned; your lips fell agape and your eyes widened. For a moment you stared at who you discovered, before a soft whisper from you broke the still silence of the room, “Thorns…?”

He was sat at your bedside - asleep, you realized from his quiet snoring - head resting on his folded arms. The unruliness of his hair was worsened severely, the locks knotted in tangles and jutting out in mixed directions, creating such a dark mess that you were reminded of an Originum clump. Your eyebrows knitted together, gaze remaining fixed on the Ægir. Perhaps anyone else would've said his rough-hewn appearance was normal, but right then, even the unkempt condition of his hair alone alarmed you. It told you that he hadn't bothered to smooth it down or comb it anytime recently; and as such, it told you he had been neglecting himself for longer than was healthy.

His name fell from your lips again, raspy and shaky. In a better attempt to get his attention, you moved to lift your hand only to realized he was clasping it in one of his own.

Your eyes widened slightly when Thorns shifted for a few moments - in reply to your movements, he was beginning to awake. His head lifted slowly. Fatigued golden eyes met yours; immediately, they grew wide and were gone of any weariness. Yours however, filled with so much concern that your entire face became riven with worry; like his hair, the dullness in his irises and the faint streaks on his cheeks didn't go unnoticed by you.

Your mouth opened, however he beat you to speaking, “Sunbeam. Sunbeam, you’re awake.” Something trembled on his face, his expression and body tightened as if restraining a flood. Blinking, your eyebrows furrowed and you nodded, “W-What happened?”

His grip on your hand grew unsteady, just as soon his voice did as he explained, “Right. I’ll keep it short. You’re at the Landship again. Your wound was already being operated on while we were on the aircraft returning to Rhodes Island.” Thorns paused, and the stability of the expression on his face wavered. “When the Operators who came saw you, they said you weren't going to make it. That any attempts from the Medics would be futile, and you were already succumbing to your injuries.” He gulped down hard, as if to swallow the words and rid his mouth of their taste.

“What could’ve been done about the damage the Arts had on your body was done, however…you stayed unconscious for too long. I started to believe that you weren't going to…” His sentence trailed off, his throat failed to produce any more words. Your voice was gone as well, too much emotion rushing through your mind to compose anything much to say - so instead, you gave him a soft expression and opened your arms for him.

In an abrupt movement, Thorns fell into your embrace and his head came to your shoulder. With what strength you could manage, you wrapped him in your arms and leaned into him in hopes to enforce that you were awake and okay. He was still for a few moments, before he brought his arms around your torso and began whispering something against your shoulder. Your name - the Ægir was muttering your name over and over, and soon you felt liquid on your neck. It was not until you felt his body rack with sobs that you realized why your skin was becoming wet.

The pain from your wound was long-faded, and instead a stab in your chest as your heart ached replaced it. Inhaling shakily, you nuzzled against Thorns’ hair, “Please don't cry…I’m okay, I’m safe now. The reinforcements came just in time for us, and the Medic Operators took such good care of my injury that I barely feel it anymore.” Fortunately, he calmed at your reassurance. The shaking of his body eased and his quiet crying grew silent, then he pulled back from you just enough, so his watery eyes met yours. The sincerity in your gaze caused the fear in his to disintegrate.

He took a second to find his voice again, “Sunbeam. I need to tell you this in case something ever happens to you again.” Slowly, the Ægir’s hands came to cup your jawline and he pressed the gentlest of kisses to the crown of your head, “I love you. So much, too much. Above all, you’re the one I never want to lose.”

There was the slightest bit of desperation felt through his touch, and his words were not only for you. Thorns’ tone almost begged the unkind world of Terra not to take you from him - for a battle not to take you, for Oripathy not to take you, for a Catastrophe not to take you, for death not to take you.

Despite the heaviness of the situation, you managed a soft smile at him and the air surrounding you both lost some of its grave weight, “I love you too, Thorns. And you’ll never lose me.” Your eyes slipped shut as you rested your forehead against his own, hands coming to pull his from your face so you could intertwine both your fingers together. “Sorry…I know this is unexpected from me but…” He leaned closer to you, hair tickling your face and hands holding yours tightly as if you would vanish if he released them, “...can we stay this way for a bit longer?”