Vadim
stallion | draft x | dunalino pintaloosa | 18hhs
She speaks to him, but this time Vadim does not hear her. The darkness is winning, and despite how hard he struggles against it, Vadim knows he is losing. Blink after blink it creeps further into his vision until he can no longer see the pale face anxiously looking at him from above. Or the vibrant sun that had haloed her. How desperately he wanted to ask her not to leave him. To not be alone, vulnerable to whatever hell might be lurking nearby. Vadim does not know she has already promised him, and intends to protect him, despite the responsibilities awaiting her at home.
The pale stallion isn’t sure how long he is unconscious for. Only that there is no pain or suffering in the swirl of blackness that has engulfed him. Yet he is fully aware of when it begins to recede. The pain is the first to greet him, though not as strongly as he last remembered, as he has been still and not aggravating the wound. When he blinks open his eyes this time, the sun is no longer directly overhead. Instead, the pastel colors that wash across the sky indicate the sun is setting, and the day was now gone. Had he truly been absent from this world for half a day?
Arsinoe.
Memories wash over him again as his mind becomes fully awake, and he remembers she had been standing over him when he had passed out. Had she stayed? Or had she gone, thinking he would soon take his final breath? As Vadim lifts his head this time, he is aware of the ache in his battered muscles, and the stiffness of dried and clotted blood on his neck. The skin pulls uncomfortably but doesn’t hurt badly enough to stop him. Instead, for the first time, he realizes he lies on the beach of the Commons and not one of the other territories. Thankfully, he doesn’t see any of the Lagoon stallions nearby.
The wheeze is still there, rattling in his lungs, but it is not as severe. Making it easier to breathe so that it isn’t as labored. Just as it makes it easier to speak when he finally does. “Arsinoe?” Barely more than a croaked whisper, Vadim’s mouth is dry, and his throat is still very raw. But at least it was more than the strangled sound he’d made before when she had first found him.
|
