For That One Guy on Tumblr part 10
Chilchuck x !fem !halffoot reader
TW: discussion of head injuries, concussion, blood.
You hit the ground with a *THUMP*, you and Chilchuck half cushioned by each other's bodies. Your head still ricochets off the floor with a *CRACK*.
You wake up. Or maybe you were always awake. You don't know. You lay there for...a while. It's nice. It's comfy. There's no beaks and claws and wings. No falling. You feel pleasantly cushioned from whatever is happening, your head and ears ringing faintly.
Some time passes.
Slowly you become aware that there is...sticky liquid on you. A lot of sticky liquid. Huh. That doesn't feel nice.
Oh.
Fuck.
Oh fuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohgodohno
You lurch to a semi sitting position and manage to slur out.
"CHILCHUCK."
The room is dark and you can't see shit but he's still half wrapped around you, and he's. He's not cold at the least. There's that. You've been out for a while, right? He'd be cold, right? You know what a dead body feels like.
You frantically fumble around to find his neck and press your fingers to the thick vein running up the side of it. For a moment, you think there's nothing there, and then you feel the faintest flutter.
He's alive.
You breathe out in relief, no way you could rez him, and there's a solid chance you'll never see the party again. You wouldn't have been able to get him back to the surface before he rotted off the bone. A death now means a death for real. No taking it back. No tricksy magics. No second chances.
Your still foggy brain scrambles around for a plan. You need to heal him. You have to heal him. But you can't see anything....
Light. You need light. But you can't leave him, and you'll need every ounce of magic you have in you for the healing.
For the first time, you realize it's not *quite* fully pitch black. You can make out the dim outline of your hands.
You glance around, each shift of your head bringing a new wave of pain.
There's a thin crack of light a few feet away from you, off to your right.
*Like an angel* you think, half delirious.
You carefully extricate yourself from the heap of tangled limbs that is Chilchuck and crawl over to the door. Even concussed and in the dark, it's a matter of seconds to pick the flimsy lock. You almost feel a sense of professional scorn. You ease the door open, letting light spill into the room.
It's empty, thankfully, just a standard store room or guard room or whatever it was supposed to be, not even any crates or barrels. Unfortunately it's empty of any holes in the wall that could have dumped you there as well. More labyrinth fuckery.
The door opens into a hallway lit by torches, no movement or sounds there either. You only open the door enough to let what light you need in though, no sense in being stupid.
You crawl back over to Chilchuck, not quite ready to test your balance yet.
He doesn't look good, sprawled limply out on the floor, breath shallow.
Automatically, you look him over and catalogue the injuries. To your relief, it's not as bad, or at least not as complicated, as you had initially feared. There's a lot of blood but the only obvious life threatening injury is the head wound he sustained from the hippogriff. Anything else will have to wait.
You take a deep breath and lay your hands on his blood covered head. The words come slowly and haltingly, you wrestle them through the slow moving fog of your mind, but you get there in the end.
The blood flows back and his eyes open, he sits straight up with a gasp. The backlash hits you at almost the same time, and you double over, making sure to vomit *away* from him.
Through the spinning haze of mana sickness you see him glance around, take stock of his surroundings and you on the ground, and very calmly say. "What the fuck?"
And then you suppose you finally, mercifully, pass out. Letting the darkness and the spinning haze of colors take you at last.
When you wake up you're surprisingly comfortable, you feel warm and groggy and your head is resting on something more comfortable than the hard stone floor, and you hear the crackle of a fire. For a very confusing half a second you wonder blearily if someone got a bed into the dungeon. Then you realize you're half draped over someone's lap, carefully arranged on your side.
Panicking slightly, you start to lever yourself up into a sitting position but a firm hand lands on your shoulder and stops you.
"No. Give yourself a second."
You relax. It's just Chilchuck. Thank fuck.
He sighs and says "You scared the shit out of me. Didn't know if you were going to wake up."
You settle back down a little awkwardly. You groan a bit, your head spinning. "What happened?"
"Whats the last thing you remember?"
Chilchucks voice is soft, you can tell he's trying to be gentle and careful. Surprisingly considerate coming from him.
You squint, pushing your aching brain back. "There was...a monster."
He makes a hum of agreement. "And then what?"
Still that same gentle tone. It's starting to freak you out a bit. He must've really been scared. The hand is still resting on your shoulder, whether for your comfort or his or because he hasn't noticed it's still there. Or perhaps because he thinks you're going to make a break for it. Whatever, you don't exactly mind it.
"The....we fell down...something. there was..."
You try to sit up again. "There was blood! Holy SHIT there was a lot of blood."
His hand presses down again, arm coming around to gently press you back into him. "Easy! Easy. Everything's fine. We're all okay. I'm okay, you're okay."
You settle down again, head spinning from your sudden exertion. "Okay....now I think I remember. We landed in here. I healed you and then I passed out...yeah?"
"Yeah. That was another stupid thing to do."
There's no bite to his voice, he just sounds tired.
You snort and then groan again as your head throbs. "You keep saying that."
"Yeah well make smarter decisions and I'll stop saying it."
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