@nichtsehen: [WOUND]: after the receiver has been wounded, the sender tries to keep them calm and conscious by cupping their face in their hands and talking to them to keep them focused.
there's this loud, frantic noise inside of him ; wings beating against a cage. disorientated and wild. every time he tries to get up, he fails, folding in on himself at the searing pain in his abdomen. again, and again. the white of castiel's shirt blooms steadily red, dampening by the minute. it soaks through the unsteady palm pressed to the open, jagged wound beneath torn fabric. castiel feels something sharp across his face, something wet and burning trailing from his cheekbone to his mouth. broken lips press together. it stings. metal flooding his tongue when he manages to swallow.
the angel blade hadn't killed him. not yet. though he barely feels alive. there's something slipping ─ he's sure of it. something leaving him, flickering sickly beneath pallid, cooling skin. a dying pulse. he isn't sure he can survive this on will alone. castiel frowns at the aggravating thought of it, eyes reluctantly closing.
the chaotic beating inside him stutters, then stops, at the feeling of two warm hands framing his face. and suddenly the world narrows, everything goes quiet except for the sound of his own name. breath shallow and uneven, heavy eyelids lift. bern. their thumbs press beneath his eyes, forcing the angel's gaze to lock onto theirs.
' bern, ' he manages, the name fraying. his own hand still clamped against the lower stomach of his vessel. the other drags itself free from beneath himself, hand lifting, searching ; needing something to cling to. fingers catching around bern's wrist. ' you're . . . warm, ' mouth aching with each word. he feels the human's pulse jump beneath his fingers. grip shifting, his thumb pressing against their skin as if to confirm it. again, again, again. ' i ' castiel falters, feeling something tightening within his chest. panic. almost. ' . . . i need help. '
