Lucius Foss ⛧ Guildless ⛧ A-RankI c r e a t e d a m o n s t e r a h e l l w i t h i n m y h e a d
It's hard to recount the memories of one who is only half conscious, at most all that is remembered is a foggy rendition at best. He fell asleep relatively fast after he laid his head back down, becoming unconscious to the comforting and familiar touch of the wind mage. But this was only just the beginning of a very long, long, exhausting night. The first time he was vaguely awake he couldn't really process the situation around him, he felt feverish almost. His body temperature was so hot it felt cold, causing him to shiver. The ceaseless shaking reaction his figure had brought even more discomfort to his wound. Instinctively he went to hug himself, whether to warm himself or to go to try and hold his injury or both, was the least of everybody's concerns right now. His thin bony fingers loosely gripped his bare arms, bothered by the fact that there wasn't any clothes on them. This time it wasn't because Lucius didn't like being bare skinned and vulnerable in front of people, it was just that he was cold, everything during this time relied on pure instinct and less his actual thoughts. Though not to say his thoughts weren't running during this time, but we'll get back to that.
Time while in this condition was odd, everything felt like it was taking to long due to the constant irritation, but at the same time it took no time at all. It was hard to tell how long he was awake during these intervals, if you can even call it being awake. He doesn't remember when he fell asleep, the next time his eyes pried themselves open, he was quite the opposite of what he was last time. Still shaking, but ridiculously hot, breathing heavier, missing the cold that he was painfully living through the last time he was responsive. He spread himself out more, and encountered some resistance for the person sitting next to time. Jiyu who'd appeared to have been there a while or noticed his movements, came over to try and give him a drink. He attempted to drink it, but most of it was just spilled onto his face, mixing in with the sweat, but he didn't care because it cooled him, if only a little bit. The assassin passed out yet again. Everything repeated itself, sometimes the canine was next to him, cradling his head, sometimes she was somewhere else he didn't bother wondering where. He went back and forth from being cold to being the other extreme.
Just because he was in the vulnerable state, it felt comparable to all of the torture he went through, though it really wasn't, just felt that way. It wasn't the first time he had a fever like this, nor was it the first time he had an injury like this. Just the circumstance, all his emotions caused his illness, on top of the deep cut to his abdomen that wasn't treated in the best way didn't help his situation. Not discrediting Jiyu who did a great job, just it's hard to do a decent job in these conditions, it wasn't the fault of her skills but the environment, which nobody could help. In this apartment the air could practically give his wound an infection or given him this fever, not that things work like that, but it's just me trying to prove my point. But enough about his physical condition during this painstakingly long night, time to talk about the emotional, the mental turmoil he was fighting through. Because man, there was a lot more to talk about there then the last topic. This was half, if not more, of the battle of this night. There was a lot of memories and thoughts and emotions he's kept bottled up inside his already broken mind that he's been ignoring for however long, it's nigh impossible to keep track of the time, it's been a long time.
This situation, was the last straw to all he was holding in, let's give an analogy. His fight that caused his deadly injury, his encounter with an old acquaintance that brings up a painful familiarity, was like the single pebble to the severely damaged dam that finally broke it. This night was the flood, so to speak. Where do you even start? I'll try not to go on forever but there is a lot to talk about, but I'll try to keep on topic. His brain was ten times more in a panic then it normally was, his thoughts were running at a thousand miles an hour and he barely had enough mental energy to focus on one for more then a minute. But they all just kept beating down on him, bringing a painful tightness to his throat and chest, and certainly not helping how his wound. I've already repeated enough how much his thoughts were cursing him and how much trouble the voices were giving him for trusting this young mage, so I won't get back into that. As for how familiar she was, as I've said, it was almost painful, like an itch that couldn't be scratched. He knew who she was, who she actually was, but he refused to let himself believe it. He couldn't stand the thought of losing her again, having yet another weakness added to the pathetically large pile. Though at this rate, even without him admitting to her identity, he was going to gain an attachment to her. Thus causing what he was trying to prevent.
His mind couldn't stop punishing him for being around this woman, telling him what would happen if he got attached. She would only get hurt, die or worse. Just like everyone else: any family he had in his home town that wasn't hurtful towards him, his adoptive grandfather, Astrid. Wherever she was if she was even still around, he had to hope despite how false it may be, it was the only thing that kept him living this miserable life. And of course, Mikka. His best friend from his brighter childhood years. Who of which went missing, and assumed dead my most if not all the village, that of which he blamed on her father, making him pay for his actions. Even if he didn't kill her, in the assassin's mind, he still would've deserved the punishment Lucius dished out for him. All their misgivings he blames it on himself, and after all he's done and how some of the circumstances started? He wouldn't be that wrong. Despite it all he still refuses to change, for him it seems to late, what would be the point? He only has enjoyment from the crimes he commits, what little enjoyment it is, there would be no use in changing. Considering there would be more pain to change then it would be to stay the same. At least that's how his crippled mind sees it.
I could go on forever on every little thought that was tearing him apart from the inside out, there really isn't any need to, at least not now. Did he win this metaphorical battle? Who's to say, he survived the night, but was it worth it? Only time will tell. When he awoke his fever was broken, probably for quite a while. Despite how long he was sleeping he didn't feel well rested in the slightest, but with depression it was really hard to tell if the tiredness from from a bad night's sleep or the fatigue that comes from the mental ailment. His cut ached, but not much more then that. The air almost seemed fresher, was that even possible in this apartment? He blinked his eyes open, trying to removed the tiredness from them to no avail, not that there would be any point in this action. Lucius was lying on his back, just now realizing the situation he was in. A small, soft hand rested over his now steadily beating heart. Bring up an arm he gently touched the canine's stained blue hair. He could be irritated, but frankly he was just to tired to care, plus the girl was probably exhausted from dealing with him all night. Honestly? Who could blame her.
The shadow mage heaved a sigh. As much as he would hate to admit it, it felt so nice to just stay there, still and silent. It's been so long sense he's had such comforting physical contact, it sent chills down his spine. He didn't want to get up because of it, but he hated himself for liking this, this affection. But the sensations it was giving him was almost painful with how overloading it was, he couldn't handle just sitting there for even another minute. And despite his injury that he had a very rough night surviving from, he decided he should get up, even if it meant risking awaking the girl. He would have to deal with it one time or another. With as little movement he would try not to wake the sleeping canine. Once he thought he successfully got her off of him without disturbing her slumber, he'd slowly sit himself up. This made his breathing quicken, but he kept the volume of it low. Gently, he felt around for his walking staff, feeling the familiar cold metal, he used this as support to try and get up.
His attempt to stand was less successful then everything else. When he tried to straighten up a sharp pain was sent through his body and he sharply inhaled. Tripping forward, he'd make a hard landing onto his knees and hand, the other still tightly gripping his cane. He just hoped didn't reopen his wound of which Jiyu oh so kindly stitched shut for him. Straightening his walking stick and grabbing it with both hands, he'd push himself into a kneeling position. There he would just trying and catch his breath, hating what he would look like to the young woman he undoubtedly woke up from all the noise he made, if he didn't already wake her up before this incident occurred. How pathetic he thought himself, as if he wasn't already drowning in a pool of self-pity. This just made it worse for him, now he couldn't even stand without the help from the legal mage. He harshly bit down on his lip and lightly rested his forehead up against the cane, hair dropping from his shoulders to the filthy floor beneath him.W o r d C o u n t:
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