05-30-2015, 04:06 PM
"Come on, Jon! We must find shelter if we are to survive this storm!" Gilgamesh beckoned back to the cloaked-man staggering far behind him.
The pair had made the decision to keep moving shortly after Jon had re-awoken from his apparent state of unconsciousness. Tough winds were beginning to pick up, and that only meant could thing - the storm was coming. Usually, Jon would have the grit and natural advantage of being a Northerner on his side to survive such things, but in such a fragile state Jon knew that he didn't stand a chance if the tornado hit them directly. And Gilgamesh smelt as green as any Southerner Jon had ever come across. It was a slim chance he'd survive, either, and the King didn't seem completely blind to such a fact. He was the one who'd got them off their feet to search for suitable shelter, after all. If they could find a roof to duck under, anything to bar them against the storm, then they were saved.
The King was saved, at least. Jon was a dead man walking, now, and he damn bloody acknowledged it
Gilgamesh had offered to support him, but Jon was confident in his stride, and refused him. It was only his chest that bled, after all, and though his arm had been cut during the fight and was bleeding for a while, it quickly settled and stopped. His legs, on the contrary, were still in perfect, working condition. Though his bullet wound still bled profusely, and Jon had to keep a hand clasped around it at all times to try and halt the red stuff pouring out. He must have lost enough blood already, for his vision was becoming blurry and his, his knees suddenly becoming weaker and more shaky. It felt as though his body would just give at any moment, and he'd be rolling about in defeat on the ground, able to move no more.
And he guessed correctly. Suddenly, Snow felt himself keel over, knees smacking against the damp, wet ground beneath him as he began to rasp and claw for breath. Gilgamesh spun around as he heard his comrade fall, eyes widening a tad as he hurried over to him in a quick stroll.
"Jon, I order you to live!" the King balked as he continued to walk. "We must get to shelter for you to survive, so STAND!" Gilgamesh was almost shouting it at this point, as if pleading, begging for his ally to hold on for the last strands of his life. Jon glanced up to his King weakly, staring at him with jarring and almost apologetic eyes.
"It... won't stop bleeding, your grace" Jon told the King with a grunt, removing his hand slightly from the wound to show him. Blood still oozed from where the bullet had penetrated his skin, as though the injury was completely fresh. "Please, your grace... go. Find shelter for yourself, there's still chance for you to survive the night yet" Jon pleaded with his King with bared teeth, as his head lowered slightly, but Gilgamesh wouldn't hear it. "No! If you won't stand, I'll just have to drag you!". The King was about to step toward Jon, but in that moment, the bastard lurched forward with a fit of coughs and weak splutters. His body crumpled down further onto the floor, blood beginning to ooze grow his mouth as his breathing slowed and the rate of his heart almost became flat.
The last he saw before his eyes shut for good was Gilgamesh loom over his body with folded arms and a deeply worried expression.
"Jon? Jon?! Get up! Your king commands you! JOOOOOOOOOOOON!"
***
The faint sounds of muffled voices began to fill Jon's hearing as senses began to return to him one by one, his eyes flickering open slowly and weakly. It took his gaze some moments to re-adjust to what was in front of him, but when it did, he only saw a dark-haired man kneeling in front of him, fishing through his sack for... something. Gilgamesh loomed close behind, a triumphant-looking, almost cocky grin spread upon his lips.
Wait... how am I not dead?
The man crouched before him looked up at Jon as he noticed his eyes open, brow raising slightly. "Ahh, so you are alive? Good" the man nodded. After a few more moments of searching through his bag, he seemed to have finally found what he was looking for, and slipped it out, holding it for Jon to see. The bastard's eyes widened a bit. It looked uncannily similar to whatever Sergeant Josef had tried to stab him with him back in the Nexus, That toxin.
Jon's heart skipped a beat for a split second, though the expression Gilgamesh held as he looked over to him told Jon that this was for something different entirely.
"This'll help you heal. It'll only sting a little..." the man twisted the injector between his fingers as he stabbed it into Jon's skin. The bastard held back a yelp of surprise, but as the needle made contact with his flesh, Jon felt a newfound surge of energy and life surge through his being, as though a heavy wait of injury and despair had been lifted from his shoulders.
Jon's body slumped back against the tree as the man pulled the stim free from his shoulder, tossing it aside with no further use for it. Jon glanced slightly up with a deep breath. A dense foliage of forest and trees covered the (now) from the storm and the heavy rain somewhat, though strong winds still battered into them. Jon reached back, pulling his fur cloak further around him, icey wisps of air and vapour escaping his low, paced breaths.
"Now we leave him to rest. The bleeding should recede soon enough" the man assured Gilgamesh with a nod, and Gilgamesh nodded back. The King shot a glance over to his wounded knight, who had just about passed out from pure exhaustion once again.
The pair had made the decision to keep moving shortly after Jon had re-awoken from his apparent state of unconsciousness. Tough winds were beginning to pick up, and that only meant could thing - the storm was coming. Usually, Jon would have the grit and natural advantage of being a Northerner on his side to survive such things, but in such a fragile state Jon knew that he didn't stand a chance if the tornado hit them directly. And Gilgamesh smelt as green as any Southerner Jon had ever come across. It was a slim chance he'd survive, either, and the King didn't seem completely blind to such a fact. He was the one who'd got them off their feet to search for suitable shelter, after all. If they could find a roof to duck under, anything to bar them against the storm, then they were saved.
The King was saved, at least. Jon was a dead man walking, now, and he damn bloody acknowledged it
Gilgamesh had offered to support him, but Jon was confident in his stride, and refused him. It was only his chest that bled, after all, and though his arm had been cut during the fight and was bleeding for a while, it quickly settled and stopped. His legs, on the contrary, were still in perfect, working condition. Though his bullet wound still bled profusely, and Jon had to keep a hand clasped around it at all times to try and halt the red stuff pouring out. He must have lost enough blood already, for his vision was becoming blurry and his, his knees suddenly becoming weaker and more shaky. It felt as though his body would just give at any moment, and he'd be rolling about in defeat on the ground, able to move no more.
And he guessed correctly. Suddenly, Snow felt himself keel over, knees smacking against the damp, wet ground beneath him as he began to rasp and claw for breath. Gilgamesh spun around as he heard his comrade fall, eyes widening a tad as he hurried over to him in a quick stroll.
"Jon, I order you to live!" the King balked as he continued to walk. "We must get to shelter for you to survive, so STAND!" Gilgamesh was almost shouting it at this point, as if pleading, begging for his ally to hold on for the last strands of his life. Jon glanced up to his King weakly, staring at him with jarring and almost apologetic eyes.
"It... won't stop bleeding, your grace" Jon told the King with a grunt, removing his hand slightly from the wound to show him. Blood still oozed from where the bullet had penetrated his skin, as though the injury was completely fresh. "Please, your grace... go. Find shelter for yourself, there's still chance for you to survive the night yet" Jon pleaded with his King with bared teeth, as his head lowered slightly, but Gilgamesh wouldn't hear it. "No! If you won't stand, I'll just have to drag you!". The King was about to step toward Jon, but in that moment, the bastard lurched forward with a fit of coughs and weak splutters. His body crumpled down further onto the floor, blood beginning to ooze grow his mouth as his breathing slowed and the rate of his heart almost became flat.
The last he saw before his eyes shut for good was Gilgamesh loom over his body with folded arms and a deeply worried expression.
"Jon? Jon?! Get up! Your king commands you! JOOOOOOOOOOOON!"
***
The faint sounds of muffled voices began to fill Jon's hearing as senses began to return to him one by one, his eyes flickering open slowly and weakly. It took his gaze some moments to re-adjust to what was in front of him, but when it did, he only saw a dark-haired man kneeling in front of him, fishing through his sack for... something. Gilgamesh loomed close behind, a triumphant-looking, almost cocky grin spread upon his lips.
Wait... how am I not dead?
The man crouched before him looked up at Jon as he noticed his eyes open, brow raising slightly. "Ahh, so you are alive? Good" the man nodded. After a few more moments of searching through his bag, he seemed to have finally found what he was looking for, and slipped it out, holding it for Jon to see. The bastard's eyes widened a bit. It looked uncannily similar to whatever Sergeant Josef had tried to stab him with him back in the Nexus, That toxin.
Jon's heart skipped a beat for a split second, though the expression Gilgamesh held as he looked over to him told Jon that this was for something different entirely.
"This'll help you heal. It'll only sting a little..." the man twisted the injector between his fingers as he stabbed it into Jon's skin. The bastard held back a yelp of surprise, but as the needle made contact with his flesh, Jon felt a newfound surge of energy and life surge through his being, as though a heavy wait of injury and despair had been lifted from his shoulders.
Jon's body slumped back against the tree as the man pulled the stim free from his shoulder, tossing it aside with no further use for it. Jon glanced slightly up with a deep breath. A dense foliage of forest and trees covered the (now) from the storm and the heavy rain somewhat, though strong winds still battered into them. Jon reached back, pulling his fur cloak further around him, icey wisps of air and vapour escaping his low, paced breaths.
"Now we leave him to rest. The bleeding should recede soon enough" the man assured Gilgamesh with a nod, and Gilgamesh nodded back. The King shot a glance over to his wounded knight, who had just about passed out from pure exhaustion once again.
![[Image: tumblr_nzzfidB5IX1tcnpluo4_1280.png]](http://68.media.tumblr.com/bceb0feb3876c0a578aebfda0bc7b306/tumblr_nzzfidB5IX1tcnpluo4_1280.png)