“If you don’t rest, you won’t heal.” Barsad said in the firmest yet softest tone he's ever taken with Bane. "Please, brother."
Bruised and Broken Sentence Starters — Always Accepting
The muffled, echoed breathing from within the mask is frequent and somewhat erratic. To anyone that did not know him as well as Barsad, he supposed it would only appear that he was perhaps winded or possibly mildly irritated. On the contrary, however, he was quite certain that he’d broken a rib or several.
The constant stream of anesthetics being delivered to him from within the mask had the tendency to dull not only his constant pain, but any new pain that should arise. In most instances this works to his advantage. Except, of course, whenever his supply was running short or he needed to up his dosage. This was always when he felt everything the most and all at once.
Dark eyes looked upon his brother and despite wanting to keep pushing himself and ignore the pain, he couldn’t. Barsad was right. He would never heal and it would only get worse from here. Steadying his breathing, he gave a nod. “Very well. I’ll rest for now.” The next is almost a whisper, echoing within the mask. “Though we both know I’ll never really heal.”
