Azwel hadn't returned from the raid. And when he is found, he's in dreadful shape--frostbitten and lacerated and profoundly unconscious. And yet every once in a while he groans, his voice nearly gone, broken words about voices and the cold and the wind. He shivers no matter how many blankets are piled onto him.
Time passes, the Winter breaks, the Hospital is opened again, and Azwel is found and placed in a room where he lies silent under the monitors and amid the tubes and wires, motionless. And so many days later, his eyes ease open. He stares up at the (unfamiliar) ceiling, blinking quietly. With some difficulty he tracks his eyes right and left, taking in the room and the machines whose provenance he can only guess at. He's too weak to even object to their presence, much less detach them. A dull pain washes in and out like a confused tide, sometimes sneaking up on him, other times crashing over him. He stares at the machines for what feels like hours. It is, in reality, five minutes before his eyes fall shut again.
Time passes, hours into days, and he finds himself looking at that ceiling again. Progressively, with every breath, a burning pain steals into his nerves. Quite different to the ache and stab of injuries, muffled by drugs, this burns through all other sensation. It steals his breath and makes him shudder. He squeezes his eyes shut again and moans stringily. This is apparently enough to summon a nurse who, despite asking many questions, cannot find the source of Azwel's mounting pain because Azwel, himself, cannot. It's only after a dose of a painkiller that leaves him woozy that he can even puzzle it out, though he has to do so in the short intervals that he's awake.
It's the shards of the Cursed Sword and the Spirit sword or, more accurately, their absence, that's responsible. It takes Azwel far too long to explain why he needs them to the baffled medical staff but, eventually, they're brought to him. Maybe the staff understood what he was trying to say, maybe they were simply humouring him. But the moment the shards are brought to him he feels that terrible nerve pain start to recede.
He doesn't actually put the gauntlets on--that'd impede use of his hands far too much, especially in the weakened state he's still in. Rather, it is enough to simply place them nearby, on the table next to the bed. He's told the crystalline settings pulse with light when he sleeps, giving a low, quiet, rhythmic ringing sound.
They bring him food now that the portals are functional again. Sometimes he can even keep it down. They speak of the slow, steady receding of the Winter. He'll believe it when he sees it. They tell him Henry's parents had been found, that they'd gone from dimension to dimension looking for him. This, at least, brings a vague smile to Azwel's face. When the family stop in to thank him and to say goodbye, the little boy climbs up onto the bed and hugs him fiercely. "Goodbye, little one," he whispers, holding the child briefly before letting him go, letting him return to his family and his home.
It's for the best, really. A life like his isn't one to add a child to, no matter what any Outer Goddesses might say. Or maybe that's just the pain and weariness talking.
"Is he going to be all right?" Henry's mother asks softly once outside the room. She glances back in through the window, seeing the man has already fallen asleep, again, twitching in his dreams. Henry clings to her leg, looking up with round eyes at the scrub-clad albinoid nurse with her dark goggles and cloud of hair and short antennae.
The nurse gives a small sigh. "Eventually. It'll take a long time to recover from what he's been through." She doesn't mention what the scans found, this woman isn't family or anyone else on the patient's rather short contact list.
Henry and his family go home. Time passes and one day Azwel wakes up and notices something.
"It's gone," he murmurs. "That awful wind is... gone."
Time passes, the Winter breaks, the Hospital is opened again, and Azwel is found and placed in a room where he lies silent under the monitors and amid the tubes and wires, motionless. And so many days later, his eyes ease open. He stares up at the (unfamiliar) ceiling, blinking quietly. With some difficulty he tracks his eyes right and left, taking in the room and the machines whose provenance he can only guess at. He's too weak to even object to their presence, much less detach them. A dull pain washes in and out like a confused tide, sometimes sneaking up on him, other times crashing over him. He stares at the machines for what feels like hours. It is, in reality, five minutes before his eyes fall shut again.
Time passes, hours into days, and he finds himself looking at that ceiling again. Progressively, with every breath, a burning pain steals into his nerves. Quite different to the ache and stab of injuries, muffled by drugs, this burns through all other sensation. It steals his breath and makes him shudder. He squeezes his eyes shut again and moans stringily. This is apparently enough to summon a nurse who, despite asking many questions, cannot find the source of Azwel's mounting pain because Azwel, himself, cannot. It's only after a dose of a painkiller that leaves him woozy that he can even puzzle it out, though he has to do so in the short intervals that he's awake.
It's the shards of the Cursed Sword and the Spirit sword or, more accurately, their absence, that's responsible. It takes Azwel far too long to explain why he needs them to the baffled medical staff but, eventually, they're brought to him. Maybe the staff understood what he was trying to say, maybe they were simply humouring him. But the moment the shards are brought to him he feels that terrible nerve pain start to recede.
He doesn't actually put the gauntlets on--that'd impede use of his hands far too much, especially in the weakened state he's still in. Rather, it is enough to simply place them nearby, on the table next to the bed. He's told the crystalline settings pulse with light when he sleeps, giving a low, quiet, rhythmic ringing sound.
They bring him food now that the portals are functional again. Sometimes he can even keep it down. They speak of the slow, steady receding of the Winter. He'll believe it when he sees it. They tell him Henry's parents had been found, that they'd gone from dimension to dimension looking for him. This, at least, brings a vague smile to Azwel's face. When the family stop in to thank him and to say goodbye, the little boy climbs up onto the bed and hugs him fiercely. "Goodbye, little one," he whispers, holding the child briefly before letting him go, letting him return to his family and his home.
It's for the best, really. A life like his isn't one to add a child to, no matter what any Outer Goddesses might say. Or maybe that's just the pain and weariness talking.
"Is he going to be all right?" Henry's mother asks softly once outside the room. She glances back in through the window, seeing the man has already fallen asleep, again, twitching in his dreams. Henry clings to her leg, looking up with round eyes at the scrub-clad albinoid nurse with her dark goggles and cloud of hair and short antennae.
The nurse gives a small sigh. "Eventually. It'll take a long time to recover from what he's been through." She doesn't mention what the scans found, this woman isn't family or anyone else on the patient's rather short contact list.
Henry and his family go home. Time passes and one day Azwel wakes up and notices something.
"It's gone," he murmurs. "That awful wind is... gone."
(no subject)
Date: 2019-03-26 02:15 am (UTC)There's an alien intelligence behind this dog, but even an alien intelligence likes pats and treats. This form makes it feel wanted, even helpful, to the people of this strange world. It can explain things later, once the situation has calmed down with the injuries and the last of the winter has ended.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-03-26 02:31 am (UTC)It's the quiet clicking of claws against the floor that attracts his attention. He looks up and sees... a dog walking in. Azwel blinks a couple times, then a smile crossing his face. Then he reaches out a bandaged hand, extending the uncovered fingers toward the dog for a sniff.
"Hullo, there," he murmurs. "Aren't you lovely?"
(no subject)
Date: 2019-03-26 03:33 am (UTC)Yes! The dog is lovely! It raises its snout toward Azwel, sniffing. This man isn't well, a easy target for the Other if it is in the Nexus. It will stay and guard Azwel for a while so the Other won't assimilate him.
It sits on its haunches by the bed, stock-still.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-03-26 07:53 am (UTC)"I wonder whose you are," he murmurs.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-03-27 04:51 am (UTC)It barks, enjoying the pets. They do feel good!
(no subject)
Date: 2019-03-27 10:24 am (UTC)"I'm glad you came to visit."
(no subject)
Date: 2019-03-28 07:52 am (UTC)Azwel's trust in this dog isn't misplaced.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-03-26 02:26 am (UTC)He sits down, looking over at the other man. "Howdy, Azwel. I heard you had a hard time of it - sorry I yelled at you. I figured you weren't in your right mind when Reynard did whatever he did." Kinner still doesn't know what Azwel did to set Reynard off. It probably isn't his business to ask. "I wanted to check up on you, and I'm glad you were able to make it back all right. Well, you're alive, at least."
(no subject)
Date: 2019-03-26 03:03 am (UTC)"You did? I... don't remember what happened, to be honest. Some creature... reached out of the storm and did something to my mind. Was that Reynard?" He shakes his head, starting to shiver slightly. "There was nothing but cold and... a terrible fear. I was hallucinating, I think..."
(no subject)
Date: 2019-03-26 07:09 am (UTC)Kinner frowns as he takes a seat. "What were you doing before Reynard did something to your mind? Those seasonal spirits are a fickle bunch. Learned that the hard way."
(no subject)
Date: 2019-03-26 07:47 am (UTC)"I... was fighting the Fallen. Did he attack anyone else?"
(no subject)
Date: 2019-03-27 04:48 am (UTC)Kinner shakes his head. "But no, not everyone made it back. I'm afraid Josh didn't make it. He ran away, and was attacked. He fell."
(no subject)
Date: 2019-03-27 10:16 am (UTC)He feels strangely lucky that he survived, though not very many people would consider him lucky if looking at him right now, with the fever spots on his pallid skin and hollowed-out eyes, his bandaged hands, all the tubes and wires around him and inside him.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-03-28 07:57 am (UTC)"I didn't know him very well, no, but I will always honor a fallen brother-in-arms." Kinner manages a weak, sad little smile. "I'm ex-military. Not the first time I've had someone die on me, but you never get used to it. I reckon Josh is dead. The Anti-Violence Field was down, and he didn't return to camp with us."
(no subject)
Date: 2019-03-29 05:37 am (UTC)"How... how did I get back here?"
(no subject)
Date: 2019-03-29 05:48 am (UTC)He rubs the side of his chest. "Still hurts a bit where that Fallen vandal got me. I got in a good shot at him, though."
(no subject)
Date: 2019-03-29 10:52 am (UTC)But for now he's going to fret at Kinner. "You've had that treated, I assume?" he asks, lifting an eyebrow. As though he has any room to talk, as he probably would have tried to walk this off were he conscious.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-03-27 01:34 am (UTC)He comes to the hospital with a box of baklava and a vase of chrysanthemums. Stuck inside just as everything is starting to bloom seems particularly unfair, so he's hoping the spot of color will cheer the man up.
"Azwel?" he says, leaning against the doorframe, not wanting to intrude if the man is trying to rest. "How are you faring?"
(no subject)
Date: 2019-03-27 10:07 am (UTC)But he smiles happily at seeing his guest. "Hullo, Prometheus," he says, his voice less exuberant than usual. "I'm... as well can be expected, I suppose. Please--come in."
(no subject)
Date: 2019-03-27 02:27 pm (UTC)He steps in, placing his gifts on the table next to Azwel's bed, and pulls up a chair. The Titan looks his usual self, although there might be a bit more gray in his beard. The storm has not left him entirely unscathed.
"I heard you were among those who retrieved the cache of food that allowed most everyone to survive the last of the storm. The mortals of the Nexus owe you a debt of gratitude. Is there anything you need, while you are here?"
(no subject)
Date: 2019-03-28 10:47 am (UTC)At the other's words, he smiles slightly, shaking his head. "I was, but... I fear I don't remember much of the expedition. Something... attacked me. Attacked my mind. All I remember is... flashes. A terrible panic-fear. And when I came round again, I was here, in this hospital."
Oh, look, a distraction! "Are those chrysanthemums? They're lovely. Does this mean the winter is truly gone?"
(no subject)
Date: 2019-03-29 02:22 pm (UTC)But if Azwel doesn't wish to speak further of his experience, the Titan is happy to oblige the subject change. "Yes. I purchased them from the gift shop, but all of the Nexus is in bloom now. Spring is settling in nicely."