[ It's not any battle in particular. Or maybe it's all of them? It changes, and as he starts to move he can spot faces that might seem eerily familiar, as if he saw them once - on a healer's bed, or giving a grateful smile from a stretcher - and sent them right back out here. To some endless meatgrinder of a memory. As he crawls on hands and knees, he'll touch a cold body, someone simply too late to help, more of those faces that seem slightly too close for comfort.
He can use what remains of his sight to navigate, but between the noise and smoke and screams, it'd be difficult for someone with good vision to see well. But maybe he can spot someone, if only because he sticks out above a crowd. Head and shoulders, even, and always so so brave. Attempting even now to help a few of these nameless souls to cover behind something anything before he spots you.
Raising a hand and turning as he spots jiaoqiu again, starting to sprint over to catch up to him, to grab his hand and get out of here, which is, of course, exactly when the next round of artillery hits - sending shrapnel across flesh and digging into skin, and sending you flying again with enough force to hit the ground with a sickening crunch.
At least Basilio isn't too far away to see this time, once your ears stop ringing. He's laying not a few feet away, moaning in pain. ]
the worst part about this is that it's just so... believable. it doesn't matter that he has no idea where he is. it doesn't matter that he just wandered in and found someone who isn't quite right. it's enough that it catapults him right back into that military mindset. over and over, it was always like this. handing someone a bottle of painkillers, a lecture, be careful. be careful, don't end up here again.
you look up, and the foxian that called for you to give him an extra bowl last night is gone. one of the other soldiers, a quiet young woman with a bushy red tail, tells you he was found unresponsive on the battlefield yesterday evening, arms ripped from the sockets. the next evening, she's gone too. there wasn't enough of her left to bring back to the camp, they say.
it's the same every time. he hates the smell, he hates the smoke, and he has to save these people. he always does.
What would the seeds do without you? They would be in trouble, on those terrible Thursdays. You must save them. Not that it matters, as Fridays kill the crop anyway.
absent, stupid thoughts from a letter sent a million miles away, useless thoughts as he sees basilio turn to sprint for him, and get thrown. ]
No!
[ louder than he means, wrenched from his throat, and before his ears even stop ringing he pulls himself up to try and crawl over to bas. his own wounds don't matter. the adrenaline is too much, it blares in his ears - what's the damage? does he even have bandages? ]
the damage is - incomprehensible. or maybe it is perfectly comprehensible to you, who has seen all of this time and time again. there isn't enough left of him undamaged to really tell where to begin. there's blood on him, there's blood in your own eyes, and theres blood pumping through the noise in your ears there can always be bandages, but he may be beyond anything just cloth can do. your fingers feel around to see if you can figure out where to start, and there is only blood - or worse - and he keeps moving as if it will help. it doesn't. it's making everything so much harder to hold onto.
basilio is wrapping a hand around your upper arm, but he doesn't seem to have enough flesh left to form words. maybe if you could see, if you could clear your head enough, you'd know what he's trying to communicate, what he's hoping to say in these moments.
[ gently, trying for calm - he's a fucking combat medic, he should be able to be calm. save us, save us. he drags in a breath, smoke and blood, choking on it, and scrambles to try and rip his own clothing, even if it's useless to try. even if he's too useless to fix this.
he can't see - he can't see enough to save, he can't fucking see enough to try and make out the last couple words that basilio is trying to tell him. what good is he if he can't even do this, if the only thing he's good for anymore fails him. everything burns. his eyes burn from the smoke, and from the tears that won't ever fall, won't make it past. he's heard this before, the gurgle and rattle of someone trying to beg, plead, tell him they don't want to die. he's listening, though, he's trying to hear what basilio wants to tell him.
[ it doesn't really matter in the end whether he's calm or panicked or angry or despairing. or nothing at all. completely numb. because nothing he can do will stop the bleeding or put him back together enough to keep him here.
he's still clinging to your arm as the fight fades out of him.
who knows what those last words were. the thing is, about last words, is they're so often not at all meaningful. just begging or pleading or crying for loved ones, nonsense that a desperate mind seeks to reach for in those last moments of pain.
at least the battle has moved on. it's quiet again. ]
his injuries are insignificant. the only thing that really hurts is his heart, but it always does. he's so heavy with it, especially when she puts her hand on his shoulder. a deep breath. his fingers curl into his pants leg. ]
It's... [ he was never going to be allowed to keep him, anyway. ] You don't need to apologize, Feixiao. You are here now. Are you alright?
[ she will help him to his feet, dusting him off - familiar and fond - and as she does that, it's a strange sensation, but--
he can see more clearly. her face comes into focus in a way that seems strange now, because it's been so long since he's been able to focus like that. ]
Better, now that I've found you.
[ she smiles, and it's like the sun. ]
We don't have much time, I'm afraid. But I've come to help.
[ it... has been a very long time since he's been able to focus like this. he blinks at her a few times, and his heart aches even further. he thought the last thing he'd ever see was hoolay's face. he was maybe starting to forget her's.
he instinctively reaches for her. warm. the sun, his sun, his purpose. he holds onto her arm, if he's allowed. ]
[ that is what it feels like when he touches her arm. Purpose. A sense so powerful and affirming that it burns away almost anything else in the fire of it. there is no other feeling like it in the world. ]
You need to leave. They'll notice soon, that you've been gone too long. But you can take me with you.
[ she puts a hand over his where it's rest on her arm. and he can see that so clearly too. see this whole place so clearly, strange and twisted as it is.]
I can give it back to you. Be your eyes. Together, we can make a difference. Make certain that nothing like this ever happens.
[ oof. oughgh. it shines so brightly that he feels like his nerves are on fire. he stares at the place around them, sucking in a sharp breath.
is there any reason why he shouldn't trust her? because lost in this as he is, he looks at her, and he - well, he loves her, in every way that he could possibly love a person. they'll notice that he's been gone too long... what does that even mean?
but. nothing like this should ever happen again. that was what she promised, all those years ago. cure me, she said, and i'll cure war. and she has never, ever lied to him. ]
[ cure me, and i'll cure war. and you can do that for each other now. you can fix everything by fixing this one small piece of it.
she pulls him into a tight hug, and it fills him with a sense of pride so strong that it feels it might burst out of his chest. it's hard to breathe even. but you sense you've agreed to something here, and she is so happy to have you on her side. ]
I'll meet you on the other side, alright? I'll be there.
[ and then, with a sudden move, she pushes him into darkness. ]
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holyspirits) wrote2025-03-23 03:14 pm
no subject
He can use what remains of his sight to navigate, but between the noise and smoke and screams, it'd be difficult for someone with good vision to see well. But maybe he can spot someone, if only because he sticks out above a crowd. Head and shoulders, even, and always so so brave. Attempting even now to help a few of these nameless souls to cover behind something anything before he spots you.
Raising a hand and turning as he spots jiaoqiu again, starting to sprint over to catch up to him, to grab his hand and get out of here, which is, of course, exactly when the next round of artillery hits - sending shrapnel across flesh and digging into skin, and sending you flying again with enough force to hit the ground with a sickening crunch.
At least Basilio isn't too far away to see this time, once your ears stop ringing. He's laying not a few feet away, moaning in pain. ]
no subject
the worst part about this is that it's just so... believable. it doesn't matter that he has no idea where he is. it doesn't matter that he just wandered in and found someone who isn't quite right. it's enough that it catapults him right back into that military mindset. over and over, it was always like this. handing someone a bottle of painkillers, a lecture, be careful. be careful, don't end up here again.
you look up, and the foxian that called for you to give him an extra bowl last night is gone. one of the other soldiers, a quiet young woman with a bushy red tail, tells you he was found unresponsive on the battlefield yesterday evening, arms ripped from the sockets. the next evening, she's gone too. there wasn't enough of her left to bring back to the camp, they say.
it's the same every time. he hates the smell, he hates the smoke, and he has to save these people. he always does.
What would the seeds do without you? They would be in trouble, on those terrible Thursdays. You must save them. Not that it matters, as Fridays kill the crop anyway.
absent, stupid thoughts from a letter sent a million miles away, useless thoughts as he sees basilio turn to sprint for him, and get thrown. ]
No!
[ louder than he means, wrenched from his throat, and before his ears even stop ringing he pulls himself up to try and crawl over to bas. his own wounds don't matter. the adrenaline is too much, it blares in his ears - what's the damage? does he even have bandages? ]
Hold on, darling. It's alright.
no subject
the damage is - incomprehensible. or maybe it is perfectly comprehensible to you, who has seen all of this time and time again. there isn't enough left of him undamaged to really tell where to begin. there's blood on him, there's blood in your own eyes, and theres blood pumping through the noise in your ears there can always be bandages, but he may be beyond anything just cloth can do. your fingers feel around to see if you can figure out where to start, and there is only blood - or worse - and he keeps moving as if it will help. it doesn't. it's making everything so much harder to hold onto.
basilio is wrapping a hand around your upper arm, but he doesn't seem to have enough flesh left to form words. maybe if you could see, if you could clear your head enough, you'd know what he's trying to communicate, what he's hoping to say in these moments.
do you keep trying? ]
no subject
Stay still. Shhh, shh. It's alright.
[ gently, trying for calm - he's a fucking combat medic, he should be able to be calm. save us, save us. he drags in a breath, smoke and blood, choking on it, and scrambles to try and rip his own clothing, even if it's useless to try. even if he's too useless to fix this.
he can't see - he can't see enough to save, he can't fucking see enough to try and make out the last couple words that basilio is trying to tell him. what good is he if he can't even do this, if the only thing he's good for anymore fails him. everything burns. his eyes burn from the smoke, and from the tears that won't ever fall, won't make it past. he's heard this before, the gurgle and rattle of someone trying to beg, plead, tell him they don't want to die. he's listening, though, he's trying to hear what basilio wants to tell him.
he keeps trying. please. ]
no subject
he's still clinging to your arm as the fight fades out of him.
who knows what those last words were. the thing is, about last words, is they're so often not at all meaningful. just begging or pleading or crying for loved ones, nonsense that a desperate mind seeks to reach for in those last moments of pain.
at least the battle has moved on. it's quiet again. ]
no subject
jiaoqiu doesn't do anything, he just sits here, holding what's left of basilio's hand, and stares down at him. ]
no subject
and then a crunch, and a step. like someone walking forward and approaching slowly. ]
Jiaoqiu.
[ a familiar voice. ]
no subject
silence, for a moment, and then: ]
... General? [ is he still bloody? is he still injured? or did that all go away with the battlefield. ]
no subject
she comes over closer, gently resting a hand against his shoulder. he is only as injured as he believes himself to be, in this moment. ]
I've been trying to find you. I was looking all over. [ she glances down at basilio's body, cooling now. ] It seems I was late. I'm sorry.
no subject
his injuries are insignificant. the only thing that really hurts is his heart, but it always does. he's so heavy with it, especially when she puts her hand on his shoulder. a deep breath. his fingers curl into his pants leg. ]
It's... [ he was never going to be allowed to keep him, anyway. ] You don't need to apologize, Feixiao. You are here now. Are you alright?
[ forces himself to let go, trying to stand. ]
no subject
he can see more clearly. her face comes into focus in a way that seems strange now, because it's been so long since he's been able to focus like that. ]
Better, now that I've found you.
[ she smiles, and it's like the sun. ]
We don't have much time, I'm afraid. But I've come to help.
no subject
he instinctively reaches for her. warm. the sun, his sun, his purpose. he holds onto her arm, if he's allowed. ]
Help with what? [ but also: ] Whatever you need.
no subject
You need to leave. They'll notice soon, that you've been gone too long. But you can take me with you.
[ she puts a hand over his where it's rest on her arm. and he can see that so clearly too. see this whole place so clearly, strange and twisted as it is.]
I can give it back to you. Be your eyes. Together, we can make a difference. Make certain that nothing like this ever happens.
no subject
is there any reason why he shouldn't trust her? because lost in this as he is, he looks at her, and he - well, he loves her, in every way that he could possibly love a person. they'll notice that he's been gone too long... what does that even mean?
but. nothing like this should ever happen again. that was what she promised, all those years ago. cure me, she said, and i'll cure war. and she has never, ever lied to him. ]
... I would go with you anywhere. You know this.
no subject
[ cure me, and i'll cure war. and you can do that for each other now. you can fix everything by fixing this one small piece of it.
she pulls him into a tight hug, and it fills him with a sense of pride so strong that it feels it might burst out of his chest. it's hard to breathe even. but you sense you've agreed to something here, and she is so happy to have you on her side. ]
I'll meet you on the other side, alright? I'll be there.
[ and then, with a sudden move, she pushes him into darkness. ]