OOC: This is an OPEN BY REQUEST thread. Please PM me if interested in joining, as this thread is affected by the Connlaothian Civil war. The character, though not address by his name, is Killian Gryst, who is about 27ish in this thread, which is at the end of year 8 of the war, and during the long, harsh winter.
Yay found someone to jump in :D
ALSO!
trigger warning- as there is blood and mature content afoot!.
----------
Heavy breaths made his throat raw, and heavy steps made his legs lead, feeling useless, worthless, hopeless as he pressed through the unknown, through the cold, a single soldier on his back, while his own arm dripped a lengthy trail of blood. The surprise attack on Fort Dhagh had caused he and the men at his post a great number of casualties.... and he could only think that, perhaps if not for the thick blanket of snow, they could have had the upper hand.
But he had a job to do, and the echoing voices of the battle left heavy scars in his heart, and at one point he still believed he was a youth, but in that day, during that battle, he felt himself becoming a true man.
Innocence was dead, as was the sun, that had long since faded away into the blizzarding night. And though he ached, he refused to stop, that was, until he paused to realize- the injured man on his back was dead.
Throwing the soldier down into the snow, he paused in the moment, shivering from the cold, shivering from the sorrow, and shivering as if wishing for his own defeat. He had not come this way without his own injuries, but in a foolish attempt to save a life, he had grabbed his companion, who had taken the brunt of the canon that had spilled their cart and horse- and down intoa ravene they had tumbled.
He supposed they were lucky to be alive, as he recalled laying there, his entire body stunned. And though the explosion barely marred him, the fall did. A large tree branch was jutting out from his arm, bloodied and glistening red in whatever daylight could break through the relentless snow. And he didn't know how he did it, or even why, but he found the strength to rise, found the strength to move on... but was it all for nothing?
Staring down, he realized he couldn't feel his arm, and out of desperation in the moment, he began to tear at his clothes. Upon examining the wound, and trying to get his arm to lift, to move, to do
anything, he realized that his limb was dead.
And just like that...
The snow lifted, just as his blue eyes gave way to the bubbling swell of fresh, salty tears.
Was it hours that passed? Was it hours that he changed? Was it hours that made him realize the hopelessness in this game? His heart burned so much for the woman who felt like worlds away, and now, to him, she was all he had left. And he knew, this could not be the end.
Fumbling through the night, he managed a fire and used it to defrost his limbs, or limb, for no matter how hard he tried, the limb turning dark, turning blue, turning grey-
He could feel and move nothing. And recalling another soldier who suffered the same fate, he came to realize he had but one choice-
Keep the limb, but it's death would poison him.
Or cut it off. And that thought, was almost too much to bear.
And it seemed like hours again that he fought, realizing that the only solution, the only way to surviving and ever getting back to see
her, was to do it-
To remove his arm and use the heat of the fire to seal the wound shut.
And so after man moments of sobbing, of shaking, of tears streaming down his face and snot, down his nose, he rose his blade, now freshly sharpened-
And removed the limb in a few, gut wrenching strikes.
But with each hit, with each cut, he thought of her face, until he could see her no more but the pain, and the blood was everywhere, and he was manic, almost too far gone to realize what he must do. But as he writhed, the blood staining the snow all around him, he managed to grab for the fire- and sealed the wound shut.
And as he lay there, the sharp winds of the dying storm cutting through his long hair, he felt his tears rolling down his face, as his cheeks sunk into the snow- not realizing how far his screaming echoes would go.