06-07-2015, 04:29 AM
With a simmering grimace, the prime slowly rose. His eyes peeked open only to engage the flame of fresh pain erupting in his chest, the same spot where he had been shot with an elite arrow and taken a strangely melted form of a goopy explosion. He was lucky to be alive, but that 'luck' had a limit and the insurmountable pain remained in the folds of where the wrecked line had been drawn. It was insane, so much had been left unsaid and yet his agony said it all.
The grim news was told by the lines of grief written on the survivor's faces. He imagined them, of course, as they had once lived, and the nonexistent faces of MESH and Ambrosia, who had originally appeared to be examining him and perhaps even condemning his failure; quickly their faces turned into a familiar crescent-shape of enlivening encouragement. This imagined sight usually gave him the strength to stand, for expectation was never an easy weight to bare alone and the unsettling discomfort had once provided motivation enough for him to stand if only to grant himself the pleasure of seeing the real thing -their smiling faces- one final time. He had survived many close calls only with only a similar picture of care and triumph for the friends in his heart; their smiles had always been just enough to make his suffering worth it.
Yet for the catalyst, this mirage only dampened his heart and far from put out the fire erupting from his wounds. Those faces that he had once fought alongside were no where to be seen and now, having only just been spun from his daze, he was forced to assume the worst. Perhaps in his groggy slumber he had heard Karl, but he quickly dismissed this notion as a simple hallucination. In heaving breaths, the warrior tried to grade the rate of damage he had taken, or at least say something to the assumably onlooking pair of stray eyes, but his lips were helplessly pursing with each dense inhale.
The warm taste of iron rolled onto his tongue and spread across his lips in a crimson cough. His body weighed with the fatigue of lost blood and there was not enough circulating in his limbs to keep his head from spinning. The damage was disastrous, for now how could he function enough to fulfill his duty to his group? To Guu? Was this redemption's price for killing that poor masked youth? Or perhaps he had even... No the blur of battle was still too hazy for him to have distinguished the hard facts. He only knew what he saw, which was a rampaged forest in his wake.
Fear for himself chilled his already numbed limbs. Gildarts, who had found nothing in the world more real than the pain that echoed in every fragment of his remaining body, had been devastated by the idea that he had crushed those very same smiles.
There'd be no recovery from this, sorrow glazed over his weakened brown eyes. He moved the side of his index finger to his lips and confirmed the severity of his injures by the bright shade of the color that would soon bring his death.
No complaint was uttered from his lips as he braced against the shredding bark of a tree and struggled for a good minute to gather the strength to rise from his haunches.
The grim news was told by the lines of grief written on the survivor's faces. He imagined them, of course, as they had once lived, and the nonexistent faces of MESH and Ambrosia, who had originally appeared to be examining him and perhaps even condemning his failure; quickly their faces turned into a familiar crescent-shape of enlivening encouragement. This imagined sight usually gave him the strength to stand, for expectation was never an easy weight to bare alone and the unsettling discomfort had once provided motivation enough for him to stand if only to grant himself the pleasure of seeing the real thing -their smiling faces- one final time. He had survived many close calls only with only a similar picture of care and triumph for the friends in his heart; their smiles had always been just enough to make his suffering worth it.
Yet for the catalyst, this mirage only dampened his heart and far from put out the fire erupting from his wounds. Those faces that he had once fought alongside were no where to be seen and now, having only just been spun from his daze, he was forced to assume the worst. Perhaps in his groggy slumber he had heard Karl, but he quickly dismissed this notion as a simple hallucination. In heaving breaths, the warrior tried to grade the rate of damage he had taken, or at least say something to the assumably onlooking pair of stray eyes, but his lips were helplessly pursing with each dense inhale.
The warm taste of iron rolled onto his tongue and spread across his lips in a crimson cough. His body weighed with the fatigue of lost blood and there was not enough circulating in his limbs to keep his head from spinning. The damage was disastrous, for now how could he function enough to fulfill his duty to his group? To Guu? Was this redemption's price for killing that poor masked youth? Or perhaps he had even... No the blur of battle was still too hazy for him to have distinguished the hard facts. He only knew what he saw, which was a rampaged forest in his wake.
Fear for himself chilled his already numbed limbs. Gildarts, who had found nothing in the world more real than the pain that echoed in every fragment of his remaining body, had been devastated by the idea that he had crushed those very same smiles.
There'd be no recovery from this, sorrow glazed over his weakened brown eyes. He moved the side of his index finger to his lips and confirmed the severity of his injures by the bright shade of the color that would soon bring his death.
No complaint was uttered from his lips as he braced against the shredding bark of a tree and struggled for a good minute to gather the strength to rise from his haunches.
![[Image: -Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif]](http://images6.fanpop.com/image/photos/35600000/-Gildarts-fairy-tail-35651033-300-180.gif)
"I have never met a strong person with an easy past." -Atticus