Madness and Cyanide

Silently, he sat on the bed, staring off before him. He listened as the thunder rolled in the clouds above. It wasn’t uncommon in the Mists where the weather can change drastically. Nor was it uncommon to find the man sitting on his bed in the late hours of the night. He rarely slept. His mind wandered too much. He took trips to the past. The past was always the best places to learn for the future. But the memories he thought of now.. There wasn’t much to learn from it. In war, it was hard to tell who was wrong or right. And in his position, most of the time, there was no one truly at fault. More so just the unlucky. As he closed his eyes, listening to the thunder, he no longer felt the warmth from the fire but the chill across his body. He wasn’t sitting on his bed but standing in the snow. “Vespyn!” He heard his name barked, shooting a glance towards the person who called it. It was a man cladded in armor. His breath was visible as he shook, clearly running to find the man. “We have another. Hes--..” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “--He’s not doing well. I don’t think--”  “Let’s go to him.” This time, it was Vespyn himself that cut him off, grabbing a large satchel. He hated hearing that statement. ‘I don’t think he’ll make it’. There was always a chance. At least 50-50 to him, depending on the wounds. He has aided many out on the field. And he was confident that there will be more. To have such thoughts is to give up hope. And that is all they really had. To give up hope meant to give up fighting. Giving up a fighting chance. When they got to the man, he was in terrible condition. They were moving concrete off of him, no doubt injuring one of his legs, but he shook violently in place, in shock. None of the men exactly knew what had happened, just that he was wounded in the lower torso. They moved around him, keeping him in place, not wanting to leave their friend behind but gave Vespyn some room. They were working on cutting through his armor where there was already a hole. Was Vespyn moved his hand out to check his pulse, the shaking man grasped his wrist, stammering his words. His eyes searched the man before he shook his head, turning his wrist to grasp the man’s hand. “Put pressure on the wound.” Vespyn said, squeezing the man’s hand. More than two hands moved forward to do so but the bleeding continued. Gently, he started to turn the man, who was doing his best to keep his voice down. There was no clear exit wound, the concrete and snow covered in crimson. He continued to shake. Vespyn’s face went pale. With a large wound, no exit and loosing a lot of blood.. They couldn’t move him else where and with how violently he shook, his body already in shock.. “What should we do.” Asked one of the men surrounding him, looking between Vespyn and the man in a panic, his voice wavering. It was a difficult question that no one hand an answer for, not even Vespyn himself. The wounded man stammered that Vespyn was vaguely sure he heard him correctly; He didn’t want to be in pain anymore. The only way he knew he heard him correctly was when he looked to the faces of others. They felt the pain but not as greatly as their brother in arms. He used his other hand to keep the pressure on his wound, looking off to the side. Using his foot, he brought the satchel towards him. When his hand was removed, another was replaced. As he prepared something hidden, he looked over. One man cradled his head, the others were holding his arms and others applied pressure. He wasn’t going to die alone, at the very least. All the men looked to Vespyn with a bit of confusion but understanding as well. Discreetly, he brought the prepared syringe to the side of the wounded, he whimpered and murmured. “I don’t want to die..” He shook his head violently, about to repeat the string of words but it fell into a muttering mess. He inhaled sharply as Vespyn injected the mixture. “Mère.. Accueil. Mère, je veux.. Aller a la maison.” He sputtered past crimson lips as he tightened his grip on his friend and Vespyn’s hand once he removed the syringe. They watched as he struggled, slowly his shivering pausing and finally, the last gasp and the light leaving his eyes. Vespyn closed his eyes for a brief moment, hearing the cries around him of war before they suddenly shot open to the sound of thunder. He was in his room once more, his fingers curling. Regret silently filling him.

Here will be the times for January which Angeal ‘Stein’ Vespyn will be teaching: 1/7 Sat: Alchemy (Stein) (7 PM-8:30 PM EST) 1/7 Sat: Medical (Stein) (9 PM-10:30 PM EST) 1/10 Tues: History (Stein) (7 PM-8:30 PM EST)