۞ || journal entry

Waking up hadn't been easy. It had been slow at first, a gradual trickle towards consciousness that had gone completely unnoticed by anybody else--just a quiet spark, barely burning yet. He hadn't even opened his eyes, but he'd curled his fingers inward hesitantly, testing the feeling of his own muscle and bone as his body became his again. There was no sweeping, sudden wave of sensation, no cascade of awareness that rattled his brain and set his teeth on edge; it was more akin to floating back into the waking world, drowsy and wading through layers and layers of cotton that filled his mouth and slowed his limbs. His brow furrowed, and the fight to open his eyes even a little began--Gattick managed that much, giving a quiet groan as he forced himself to try and sit up. That was a bit more difficult, but his movements had drawn the attention of somebody else by now.

"You're awake."

The first face Gattick had seen in who knows how long belonged to a shifter, dark skin set with jewels as bright as the light filtering in from outside. The Wind tribesman hadn't stopped squinting since he'd roused himself, the afternoon sunlight harsh on his eyes like he was staring into the sun itself--he had no idea where on earth he was, but Gattick found himself in a relatively comfortable bed, safe and sound despite the sheer dissonance between his last memories and what he was now presented with. The confusion had set in, accompanied by a building sense of wrongness that made his stomach lurch with each breath. He was dizzy for one, the throbbing pain that lanced across the side of his head only worsening the longer he tried to focus. The shifter spoke again, but his words only amounted to a muted rumble that roared in his ears, rattling his brain and running down his spine in a shockwave that made it all too easy for Gattick to lie right back down.

Perhaps it'd be a good idea if he just rested for a while longer--now that he was 'back', as it were, he was fairly certain he'd be able to wake himself up again if he needed to, despite the nagging fear in the back of his mind that whispered that he might not be as lucky if he tried again. Something was being offered to him--a simple clay cup full of water, gulped down hastily without a second thought. His shaking hands made even that simple effort difficult, but he succeeded in the end, the cool liquid tasting like ambrosia after so long without it. Gattick didn't even know how long he'd been unconscious, but that time had finally drawn to a close. He hadn't realized just how thirsty he'd been until his cup was emptied to its fullest extent, and steady, dark hands gently took it from him to refill it again.

He'd have to figure out where he was now, first and foremost. This wasn't Oba, nor was it the battlegrounds he remembered last--no screams tore through the air, no tokens of the fallen littered the ground. This was a nice little house, in fact, the complete opposite of where he'd been last; but something had brought him here, away from where he'd been laid low to...wherever this was. His eyes had started to adjust, and if Gattick had to guess from the narrow view he had of what lay outside these walls, he'd have to say that he was in Jauhar--odd, to say the least. Secondly, who was in here with him? When his--well, he wasn't exactly sure, but Gattick would go so far as to say that the shifter he'd gotten a muddled glimpse of had been making sure he didn't die in his sleep or whatever it was he'd been doing--returned, his internal battery of questions had taken a back seat as he tried to focus on the world around him again. He'd muttered a quiet 'thank you' when the cup had been returned to his grasp, this time taking far less desperate sips of the water within as he looked up toward the man who'd brought it to him.

That was at least part of his second question answered, but he had much more to work through yet. He had plenty of time, his guardian had reassured him--there was no rush. It was a miracle he'd woken up, apparently, and Gattick wasn't sure he wanted to know why that was. He'd seen the bandages on his body, and for now, he could live without knowing what lay underneath them. Sooner or later, he'd have to figure that one out for himself, but...later. It wasn't as if his body was going anywhere without him again, so he'd have more opportunities than this to take stock of himself.

A few light questions revealed that he wasn't far from Neued, the settlement having been restored past its former glory after the war had ended--that bit had been a shocker to him, but Gattick was more than relieved to hear of it. There was no way he would've been able to go back into the fight so soon after this, and the idea of it put a bad taste in his mouth that he quickly washed out with another gulp of water. The task set before them all now was rebuilding, and Gattick would find things far different than what he remembered, as the shifter gently warned him.

Good, he'd replied. The less bloodshed, the better. He liked the sound of that.

[ word count :: 929 ]