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Posted: Thu Nov 05, 2015 7:07 pm
Ashanite's legs wobbled when he and Mont Blonc reappeared, but he hung into the Squire, making strides towards the hospital entrance. He had teleported a few blocks away, so he didn't simply appear in the middle of an ER and draw far too much unneeded attention, but a hospital was absolutely and undoubtedly necessary. There was, he suspected, far more damage than he could see. Xenotime was not gentle - in any way, shape, or form. As a trainer she had kept him alive - as an opponent it was clear she had broken Mont Blonc apart.
"Mont Blonc, can you hear me? Just nod - I need to know you're still conscious." His voice was gentle, guiding, and he prayed that the man in his arms was conscious enough to hear him. He needed Mont Blonc to be conscious, to be alive, so that all of this wasn't a desperate, painful waste.
Because if he couldn't talk himself out of trouble with Xenotime, this would be the last thing he ever did, and he didn't want his last act to be something pointless.
Because he wanted Mont Blonc at his side someday, by the Knight's choice.
Because the thought of losing Mont Blonc was like having one of his own daggers driven into his ribs and twisted.
"Please." A desperate, quiet plea.
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Posted: Thu Nov 05, 2015 7:24 pm
Teleporting to his wonder, or to Methone, that had never bothered him. It felt like little more than a blink, and boom, the world changed around him, either into an ashy graveyard or a beautiful paradise. Maybe it was because Ploutonion's means of teleportation relied now on chaos, or maybe just because he was delicate to begin with after what the general had done -
Mont Blonc was still at first, painfully still as he tried to settle his stomach, churning harder than ever - the battle lasted only a few seconds before he leaned as far away from Ploutonion as he could, his entire body wretching as he emptied the contents of his stomach onto the concrete of the sidewalk away them, choking, sputtering, coughing with the force of his own sickness.
Finally, there was nothing left to give, although the squire felt worse for it, not better - he slumped back into the captain's arms uselessly, head flopping and resting against his chest. His eyes were watery (but open, barely), traces of moisture all across his cheeks, mingling with blood from the open wound on his broken nose, never mind the blood that'd seeped out from inside it. He was pale, sweaty, shaking.
But awake, more or less. "Y-you didn't have to - to do that - " he choked out, his throat blisteringly raw. "Plou - "
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Posted: Thu Nov 05, 2015 8:13 pm
When Ashanite realized why Mont Blonc was leaning away, he stilled, shifting his grip to let the Squire empty his stomach in as much peace as possible. He continued to hold onto the other man, because he wasn't going to test his ability to walk after whatever beating he had received from Xenotime. The process was unpleasant, and he did look away, because he was fairly certain that would be a good way to make himself ill.
When Monty collapsed back against him, he started moving again, fingers gently brushing the ends of the Squire's hair. His grip was gentle but firm, because he would not risk dropping and further damaging his friend.
"Yes, I did," he said, firmly, "I couldn't just...she was going to call Laurelite. I couldn't let that happen to you." He exhaled softly. "And I insist you do not worry about me. You're the one who got thrown around by a General."
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Posted: Thu Nov 05, 2015 9:58 pm
She was going to call Laurelite. The words almost made the squire wince visibly, and every inch of him recoiled fresh at what had nearly just become of him. Mont Blonc had lived through the moment, but the consequences of what had happened were still echoed through him, what had nearly been - if Ploutonion hadn't come, he would've been - everyone he loved would have been his -
He could not hug his friend. He could barely move at all. All he could do was nuzzle lightly against his chest, and that was the best he could do - his cheek was still cold and clammy from everything, too pale, too devoid of his typical constant blush. "Thank you," he breathed out quietly, and couldn't really hope to put into words how grateful he was in spite of his own guilt. Because of course he'd worry. Even now, he was worrying.
And something else.
"P-Plou - " He usually called him by his full name; Mont Blonc had always appreciated the elegance of Ploutonion. He was only relenting now because it hurt to do much talking at all. But this needed to be said, and he couldn't help saying it, choking on his own words through pain and something more, something he desperately wanted to be able to bite back. "S-she - did some-something to my - when s-she was in my - chest, " and he hated talking about it, hate that it bought the image and sensation of her fingers to the forefront of his mind, making him shake.
It hurt to sob. But one slipped out, and it choked him as it did, but not for what'd happened to him. "W-when they - when they took you - P-Plou, I knew it... it hurt you but... oh god, Plou." His fingers curled tighter against his own shirt, his hand shaking with the force of his grip coupled with his own weakness. "I-if it was - was anything like this - " he breathed out, staring up at him. "I-I'm so sorry. Oh god."
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Posted: Thu Nov 05, 2015 11:02 pm
Ashante squeezed, gently, just enough for it to be a show of support and hopefully not jostle the injured Squire too much. "Of course," he said, softly. He as sure Mont Blonc was worrying, because he was worrying. This was the riskiest thing he had attempted in his time as an officer, and he could very easily doom himself with it.
He froze, for a moment, when Mont Blonc began to describe what Xenotime had done, a chill running up his spine. He had suffered a lot of indignities on his starseed - it being removed (and apparently held in Umber's mouth), it being grabbed for corruption. But never had someone simply toyed with it for the sake of toying with it. He knew Xenotime was a sadist, but this was --- something entirely above and beyond. There was a special, cold horror in the idea of fiddling with someone's soul.
"I'm just glad I got you out, before she could..." He swallowed. "Try something worse." He shook his head, firmly, at concerns about his own suffering. "What happened to me happened months ago. It's done. For now - you're the one suffering." They were getting close to the lights of the emergency entrance.
"I'm going to drop you off outside the doors and then teleport out - power down once I'm gone." He breathed out a quiet sigh. Leaving Mont Blonc would be hard - but he had to, and he had to go back to Xenotime, had to try to talk her down from what was undoubtedly a towering rage.
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Posted: Thu Nov 05, 2015 11:30 pm
Mont Blonc opened his mouth at 'something worse' and then closed it again, and for a moment his eyes were far off, visibly disturbed by his own thoughts: the worst was about to happen. She was about to call Laurelite, and that would have been the end of it. The end of him as he knew it, and who knew what might have been left behind - Ploutonion had come out mostly whole, but there were no guarantees when it came to corruption. Mont Blonc, Lorne Benoit, either of both might have been burned away by chaos; and then what would have been left?
"You're still - still suffering, " he whispered, and wouldn't have said it otherwise; it was the exhaustion, the fear, the pain loosening his tongue in spite of his raw and aching throat. "You've been, this - t-this whole time... J-je souhaite q-que nous vous avions économisé... Je souhaite que vous pourriez r-revenir... Je s-souhaite que v-vous pourriez rester, " and he trailed off further into French, breathlessly; he wished this had never happened. He wished he was stronger. He wished that Ploutonion didn't have to suffer anymore. He wished he'd never had to in the first place.
He wished most of all that his friend didn't have to return to that place again. That they could keep him here, purify him, keep from save from that woman and her prying hands and cold eyes.
In the end though, all he could do was nod vaguely as Ploutonion explained what he'd do, idly attempting to move the hand with the broken fingers, to try and find a comfortable place to let it rest. There was none, of course. "W-when I'm - I'm okay - " he murmured, shutting his eyes. "T-the fountain, please, just - you don't have to - I caused enough problems," so many more than he'd ever meant to for his friend in his attempts to save him, "I - just let me know you're okay, please. I-if anything happened to you..."
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Posted: Fri Nov 06, 2015 12:43 am
Ashanite kept shaking his head, disputing Mont Blonc's insistence. He was surviving. Whatever he might suffer, it was nothing compared to what sounded like Xenotime attempting the beginnings of a corruption. Surely she knew what she was doing, but the thought that she might have pressed a little too hard, and he would have found Mont Blonc halfway to a youma...it made his blood run cold.
He didn't understand French - but he understood the tone. Understood the desperation. It made his chest hurt, because he was sure Mont Blonc would regret every single word when the truth came out. He still shifted his grip, a little, so he could press his face briefly into Mont Blonc's hair. It was the closest he could get to a real show of affection.
"The fountain. Send me a letter with a date and time - I can still receive those." He said, and then he took the last few steps, and carefully set Mont Blonc outside the (surprisingly quiet) ER doors. "I'll talk my way out of this somehow," he said, and he laughed, a little, mostly for Monty's benefit. "Goodbye, Mont Blonc. Be safe."
A moment later, he was gone.
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