| He Yet Fights |
Since the regrouping of rebels, Agron had tried not to leave Nasir’s side. He was still unconscious, still suffering from the injury he had suffered. Apart from when Agron was needed by Spartacus, he spent the rest of his time in the designated area for the medicus -- the makeshift one -- to tend to Nasir. Agron would never forget it. Seeing the others, eyes desperately searching for the Syrian, and then finding him; half dead against the tree.
Paled features. Dampened with sweat. Hardly conscious. And there it had been, the slightest of smiles on his lips. It had been a mistake to split up. Spartacus had admitted to such as well, but Agron knew that his loyalty was to Spartacus, and he let his irritation of the Gaul cloud that. Now, Nasir may pay the price for it. Just like the others who had fallen had. Currently, Agron was alone with Nasir. The German’s head was on the wooden makeshift bed that Nasir was laid upon.
Agron still had yet to have proper conversation with Nasir since he had not awoken ever since they had arrived at the temple. Agron’s eyes were closed, his head in his folded arms on the table, a very light sleep upon him. Ready to leap into an awakened state the moment he felt the slightest shift from Nasir. Sleep had eluded him for so long, and would often continue until he was certain that Nasir was alive. That he would make it out of the darkest stage of his injury. He had to live. Agron . . . needed him to live.
@warrior-nasir