body aches : taut with exhaustion, tension riddled throughout form as you grasp at your shoulder, rolling it slowly, painfully - dislocated twice, and self-relocated ... you turn your eyes on him, staring in to the depths of his own : equally as dark and just as heavy, before you lower your eyes to the gash at your thigh and the tattered remains of your jacket. your jaw crooks as you bite back tears ... you loved that jacket.
@shieldcaught tells you “you need bandages and rest,” and swallowing your fatigue and your frustrations, you shrug, grimacing at the phantom pang from your shoulder. ❝ stitches too, probably. ❞ you say quietly, voice hoarse from disuse, throat raw and you wonder if you sound as defeated to him as you do to yourself.
you tilt your head back, letting it thud against the wall that holds you up, back against the stone and the sound of rain heavy above your head. it’s ironic : that he’s telling you what you need when you’re the almost doctor between the two ... maybe he knows more about war wounds than he lets on, you wouldn’t know. you don’t know much about him at all. you can’t tell if he knows either.
your eyes close briefly, a risk that could cost her everything, that could cost the world ... but you just need a second of peace as you drop your hand from shoulder to thigh, and your brow furrows as you push your palm against the laceration in vain. it’s still bleeding. a deep inhale follows, before you open your eyes and they settle on him across the divide between you both. ❝ we should use the rain while we have it, yeah ? ... we can’t stay here. ❞ as much as you would like to, you know that you have to push on. your inhale is deep and shuddered as you watch him.
you don’t know what you’re doing. you were given very little to work with, a vague plan whispered in your ear some months ago before you were sent off alone in to a world that burned and bled, and now people look to you for salvation. but you don’t know what you’re doing ... you rely on others to get you from one point to another. survive, survive, survive - a mantra that echoes in your head as you traverse terrain and seek a reprieve within camps of the people you are trying to save. you would be dead now if not for him. you know this deep in your bones, and he is not the first nor will he be the last to save you instead.
