RP Log with Seed
Who: Culgan & Seed
What: Reuniting of friends and a rather rough introduction to the castle
When: After Seed gets back from Highland
Where: Halls, then infirmary
Rating: TL;DR ♥
Sidenote: I managed to catch Zoe when she had some free time. :) This is so that Culgan can actually post. ^_^
Today has started out well for Seed. Barely back from Highland, and finally coming to terms with his new -albeit, he still thought, temporary- existence in this little backwards castle, he had slept like a log after the days of hard riding that had stretched between L'Renouille and Budehuc.
After so many months of idleness, his back ached from sitting in the saddle for long, uninterrupted hours, and he had come to the conclusion that there was only one choice left to him: keeping up his habits from the cavalry, even in this time of peace. This was the reason he was up at the crack of dawn, unshaven and slightly disheveled, having been careful not to wake Camus on his way out of his room. His white stallion was waiting for him in the stables, and he winced at the thought of riding so soon and so... sore.
Mulling over the fact that a few short months in this place had made him soft, Seed rounded up a corner and ground to a halt, as his whole world lurched before him and he braced himself against the stone wall, the cold of the masonry reminding him that he was very much awake and very much... alive.
A sword was on the ground.
A very familiar sword.
As familiar as his own.
A sword he couldn't fail to recognize instantly.
It was drenched in blood...
Blood...
Seed's heart jumped in his throat and he found himself back on that day in L'Renouille castle. He smelled the metallic stench of blood, and the sulfur of the canons, he felt the old stones of the castle trembling from the repeated assaults of the battering rams, he heard his men wailing, he heard Highland dying. Destruction, fire, blood, death, horrors all around him and he couldn't find...
"CULGAN!"
A heartbeat later, he was running down the hall, a desperate, painful hope in his heart. Culgan...
There hadn’t seemed to be an actual shift for him, at least that he could discern. One moment he was stumbling down a hallway in L’Renouille, looking for Seed, and the next he was somewhere else. He wasn’t quite sure when he had lost his grip on his sword. The sound of it hitting the floor hadn’t even registered; and somehow he had ended up leaning against the nearby wall to lean while he contemplated what had just happened.
Had he died? No. Not possible, especially when he could still feel the pain from his wounds. He could feel it creeping up on him though. The wounds were serious… he narrowed his eyes in determination. He would not simply give up here. The change was probably just a hallucination. There was something he needed to tell Seed before he gave in, anyway.
Culgan had just finished bracing himself to walk with one hand planted on the wall when he heard the sounds of someone running from his left. Whirling was out of the question but he did turn to face what he hoped was one of his own men. If it wasn’t… well he would face that if it happened. But that voice… it caught him off guard as he stared at the red head. To be running like that meant Seed was at least minimally wounded, if he was wounded at all. Mentally, he smiled at the thought. His country was not the only thing he would die for. Outwardly, the closest he could come to smiling was a grimace of relief.
“Here.” Stated the man, control over his voice as impeccable as it always was. There were only a few signs that said how badly wounded Culgan was: his breathing, posture, and of course the bloodstains and gashes on his clothing. It wasn’t all his own blood at least.
Seed almost wept with relief as he heard his friend's voice, and rushed over to him, throwing his arms around the taller man's neck and pulling him close, one hand tangling in the silver hair. "You're alive..." he choked out, "By the runes... you're alive."
Culgan couldn’t help wincing. He kept a hand on the wall, but his free hand wrapped around his comrade. Leaning on Seed more than he should, he chuckled quietly. “As are you.” It registered that the red head looked like his usual morning self… odd, but he did not feel like thinking about it right then.
Seed laughed, holding Culgan close. "What kept you, old friend? Do you know how long I've been waiting?" He moved away slightly, his hands sliding through short silvery hair to cradle his best friend's face, so he could have a good look at him after all these months. "I'm not patient", he joked, "I was about to-"
A few seconds ago, Seed would have pinched himself, incapable of believing the day he had longed for had come, but now, he realized that it wasn't a dream, but a nightmare...
His hands were sticky with blood, his shirt was stained with crimson where he had pressed his friend enthusiastically against him.
"Culgan?"
All of those things he knew, of course, but he didn’t know why Seed had said he’d been waiting a long time. They’d only seen each other a few hours ago at the most. “It hasn’t been that long.” He said, grimacing a bit. Everything felt a bit foggy to the man. Blood loss, most likely. He may be out of it but logic still functioned.
Culgan frowned at his closest friend’s expression. His eyes slid down though, saw what Seed saw from his own point of view. “Ah… I ran into some trouble.” Understatement of the year. He would have shrugged, except that instead he lost his balance completely and fell against Seed.
Alarm replaced confusion on Seed's features as Culgan suddenly sagged against him. Quickly, on instinct, he moved his arms to his friend's back, lowering him as gently as he could -but quite awkwardly- to the cold stone floor of the corridor.
Mechanically, he went through the motions engrained in him by his training. First, he brought a hand to Culgan's face, trying to see if he was breathing. When he felt nothing, he knelt down, tilting Culgan's head back, breathing into his mouth. His chest rose once, then twice. This time, when Seed moved close, he felt a small puff of air against his cheek. There was still hope.
The next step was to stabilize him enough to be able to carry him to the infirmary. He attempted to quickly unbutton his friend's coat and shirt, then simply pulled at the fabric, his hands shaking, ripping the buttons off. He ignored the obvious wounds, like the ones on his shoulder, and concentrated on the gory gash across his friend's abdomen. Seed was no doctor, but he could tell what a potentially mortal blow looked like...
Harnessing the power of his flowing rune, he pressed a hand against the wound, releasing soothing, healing magic. A rune master honed in the complexities of such a rune could probably fix most of the shredded skin and muscle, but he was a soldier with a rudimentary knowledge of healing... his talents with the runes were for destroying, not restoring. Luckily, even a soldier's runic first aid should be enough to get Culgan to the infirmary. He cast again, feeling his friend's breathing strengthen under his touch.
This whole experience was surreal. He regained consciousness shortly after Seed forced his body to breathe again, though he wasn’t able to do much in the way of focusing. There had been none of that ‘life-flashing-before-eyes’ that people always talked about. There simply had been nothing. He really didn’t want to feel what that was like again. Breathing erratically, but still breathing at least, he moved a hand on top of Seed’s and just… smiled.
The look on his face was one who didn’t think they were going to make it. “Thanks.” No ‘thank you,’ he couldn’t manage the extra word, but he was completely sincere. There was some emotion that was hard to place behind the word. After he spoke, though, he lapsed back into unconsciousness. He would probably be stable enough to move if Seed could keep the flowing rune going for a little bit.
Culgan was breathing on his own, he opened his eyes, he... talked.
That hand on his... it reminded him of foggy memories, of the horrible, groggy feeling of his life slowly ebbing away, of his body corrupting from the inside. That time, his own life had been in mortal danger, and Culgan had comforted him.
He comforted him even now, as he was the one suffering.
"Culgan? CULGAN?"
And then his friend smiled. But that smile... that smile belonged to someone who had given up, to someone who was saying goodbye...
He had seen countless people die on the battlefield, shot, maimed, trampled by horses. He had lost his trusty second-in-command, he had lost friends from his village, but he couldn't lose Culgan.
"Don't you dare give up on me, you old warhorse... I was supposed to die first. D'you hear me? I WAS SUPPOSED TO DIE FIRST."
There was something yelling at him. He could hear it. It was disturbing him, and it sounded remarkably like he was being scolded for falling asleep… like when he was a child. Culgan cracked his eyes open and there he was again: Seed. Everything still seemed hazy, but… it was different. Describing how it felt when your body decided it was going to try to live again was impossible.
The words he was going to say sounded great in his head. Too bad they came out differently: “Aren’t… s’posed to… die…” It was of course meant to be eloquent. He hated that it sounded so weak. His breathing seemed to have stabilized, though. He gripped Seed’s hand fairly firm, for someone in his condition. “Can’t let you…” He paused to clear his throat, “be on your own… anyway…”
Seed swallowed hard, this was not the time to cry like a child about to lose his father. His family was gone, so was Highland, Culgan was all he had left... for now. "Just stop talking and look at me. Don't you dare close your eyes. Don't you DARE Culgan, or I'll kill you myself!"
Culgan knew Seed well enough to be able to read him like an open book, most of the time. He also knew how much the man despised crying. Partly because it was his natural reaction, and partly to hopefully distract the red head… he smirked. “That a threat, or a promise?” Oh hey, he could get out actual sentences again. Inwardly he was pretty pleased about that development. The pain was lessening, too. He didn’t quite feel like death was reaching out for him anymore. Still… he felt sleepy. But he did as Seed demanded.
"Shutup", snapped Seed as he poured his last spell into Culgan's body. Inwardly, he cursed himself for not learning more about healing. He was always so reckless. But his friend's breathing seemed less labored, and he had stopped bleeding...
"This is gonna hurt", he warned Culgan as he slipped one arm under his knees, and one under his back, repositioning himself slightly before lifting the taller man off the ground. He shifted his friend's body in his arms, making his way towards the infirmary as fast as he could without jolting Culgan too much.
He didn’t even need to comment, the arched brow said it all. Of course, he didn’t mind keeping quiet… and as intended Seed had been successfully distracted. The man, pale without blood loss as it was, looked almost like a statue. He nodded… bracing himself.
The groan was inevitable, but he kept most of it behind clenched teeth. It was ironic, in a sense… “This seems familiar.” Culgan managed to say quietly, referring to a previous incident where he had been the one doing the carrying. He kept his other pained noises internal, thankful for the simple fact he didn’t have to walk.
Seed snorted at the reference: "At least I kept quiet." The infirmary never seemed so remote, even on that day he had dragged his own battered body with Camus's help upon his arrival to Budehuc.
Culgan did something he never did: He pouted. Or at least it was close to a pout. He would deny it later, of course, and it disappeared quickly enough. Being quiet normally was not an issue for him. There was something about death staring you in the face that got to him. That was when it occurred to him that he did not hear any sounds of battle at all, nor did he smell smoke. “It is too quiet.” He murmured, mostly to himself.
Seed ignored Culgan, and called out as soon as he was within range of the infirmary: "I have an emergency here... QUICKLY!"
The infirmary staff were used to emergencies, particularly with the current crowd inhabiting the area. If they were feeling anxious as a couple darted out in response they only showed it minimally. Culgan was too busy staring at the unfamiliar outfits to pay much attention to what was going on.
“Over here, please!” Stated one of the staff, waving Seed toward an uninhabited bed while another immediately started asking what had caused the damage. Culgan felt like a fish out of water at that point. There was a battle going on, wasn’t there? … this place looked nothing like L’Renoille now that he thought about it. He didn’t particularly want to answer them. He’d much rather they just looked for themselves. It was pretty obvious when looked at, at least he thought so.
Thankfully, the one doing the miniature interrogation was waved off to get supplies… he had the impression the teen was going to be scolded later.
Seed relinquished Culgan, watching as the healers started poking and prodding at his friend, talking between themselves. "He's in bad shape..." "It's a wonder he's still breathing..."
He was dismissed with a wave of the hand, and exploded. "What's going on? Why won't anyone talk to me?"
His only answer was an authoritative finger pointing towards the exit.
"I'm not going! Culgan!"
An unfortunate orderly caught his arm, trying to steer him away... he yelped as Seed twisted his elbow and sent him flying across the infirmary.
Culgan got one of those long-suffering looks as they started in on him. He supposed at least the bed was more comfortable than stone, but he preferred Seed’s ministrations to this bunch. It couldn’t be helped-however, his eyes were drawn toward his friend as they attempted to escort him out of the room. He could have told them what the reaction would be, if they’d bothered to ask what either of them felt about it.
Before they had a chance to react he reached up and grabbed the nearest to him by the collar, then yanked him close. “I suggest you let him stay.” He stated, holding on long enough to get his point across before letting go.
The orderly, or whatever he was, just stared at him for a moment. The entire infirmary had stopped to stare at the flung orderly. Someone, he wasn’t sure who, squeaked out that they would allow it ‘just this once.’ Probably more in order to spare anyone else from potential injury than any other reason. Culgan attempted to meet Seed’s eyes, hoping he was paying attention, before he added: “He is family to me.”
Seed's hand had jumped to his sword before Culgan acted, and the blade had partially slid out of its scabbard when he was finally told he could stay. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and reached the bed as a sleep spell was cast on Culgan, to prepare him for the surgery.
He felt slightly foolish, one of Highland's great generals dropping to his knees near a bed, clutching his best friend's hand in his, but it was nothing next to the gnawing fear that he would lose Culgan again. "I'll be waiting for you to wake up, my friend. Don't disappoint me."
What: Reuniting of friends and a rather rough introduction to the castle
When: After Seed gets back from Highland
Where: Halls, then infirmary
Rating: TL;DR ♥
Sidenote: I managed to catch Zoe when she had some free time. :) This is so that Culgan can actually post. ^_^
Today has started out well for Seed. Barely back from Highland, and finally coming to terms with his new -albeit, he still thought, temporary- existence in this little backwards castle, he had slept like a log after the days of hard riding that had stretched between L'Renouille and Budehuc.
After so many months of idleness, his back ached from sitting in the saddle for long, uninterrupted hours, and he had come to the conclusion that there was only one choice left to him: keeping up his habits from the cavalry, even in this time of peace. This was the reason he was up at the crack of dawn, unshaven and slightly disheveled, having been careful not to wake Camus on his way out of his room. His white stallion was waiting for him in the stables, and he winced at the thought of riding so soon and so... sore.
Mulling over the fact that a few short months in this place had made him soft, Seed rounded up a corner and ground to a halt, as his whole world lurched before him and he braced himself against the stone wall, the cold of the masonry reminding him that he was very much awake and very much... alive.
A sword was on the ground.
A very familiar sword.
As familiar as his own.
A sword he couldn't fail to recognize instantly.
It was drenched in blood...
Blood...
Seed's heart jumped in his throat and he found himself back on that day in L'Renouille castle. He smelled the metallic stench of blood, and the sulfur of the canons, he felt the old stones of the castle trembling from the repeated assaults of the battering rams, he heard his men wailing, he heard Highland dying. Destruction, fire, blood, death, horrors all around him and he couldn't find...
"CULGAN!"
A heartbeat later, he was running down the hall, a desperate, painful hope in his heart. Culgan...
There hadn’t seemed to be an actual shift for him, at least that he could discern. One moment he was stumbling down a hallway in L’Renouille, looking for Seed, and the next he was somewhere else. He wasn’t quite sure when he had lost his grip on his sword. The sound of it hitting the floor hadn’t even registered; and somehow he had ended up leaning against the nearby wall to lean while he contemplated what had just happened.
Had he died? No. Not possible, especially when he could still feel the pain from his wounds. He could feel it creeping up on him though. The wounds were serious… he narrowed his eyes in determination. He would not simply give up here. The change was probably just a hallucination. There was something he needed to tell Seed before he gave in, anyway.
Culgan had just finished bracing himself to walk with one hand planted on the wall when he heard the sounds of someone running from his left. Whirling was out of the question but he did turn to face what he hoped was one of his own men. If it wasn’t… well he would face that if it happened. But that voice… it caught him off guard as he stared at the red head. To be running like that meant Seed was at least minimally wounded, if he was wounded at all. Mentally, he smiled at the thought. His country was not the only thing he would die for. Outwardly, the closest he could come to smiling was a grimace of relief.
“Here.” Stated the man, control over his voice as impeccable as it always was. There were only a few signs that said how badly wounded Culgan was: his breathing, posture, and of course the bloodstains and gashes on his clothing. It wasn’t all his own blood at least.
Seed almost wept with relief as he heard his friend's voice, and rushed over to him, throwing his arms around the taller man's neck and pulling him close, one hand tangling in the silver hair. "You're alive..." he choked out, "By the runes... you're alive."
Culgan couldn’t help wincing. He kept a hand on the wall, but his free hand wrapped around his comrade. Leaning on Seed more than he should, he chuckled quietly. “As are you.” It registered that the red head looked like his usual morning self… odd, but he did not feel like thinking about it right then.
Seed laughed, holding Culgan close. "What kept you, old friend? Do you know how long I've been waiting?" He moved away slightly, his hands sliding through short silvery hair to cradle his best friend's face, so he could have a good look at him after all these months. "I'm not patient", he joked, "I was about to-"
A few seconds ago, Seed would have pinched himself, incapable of believing the day he had longed for had come, but now, he realized that it wasn't a dream, but a nightmare...
His hands were sticky with blood, his shirt was stained with crimson where he had pressed his friend enthusiastically against him.
"Culgan?"
All of those things he knew, of course, but he didn’t know why Seed had said he’d been waiting a long time. They’d only seen each other a few hours ago at the most. “It hasn’t been that long.” He said, grimacing a bit. Everything felt a bit foggy to the man. Blood loss, most likely. He may be out of it but logic still functioned.
Culgan frowned at his closest friend’s expression. His eyes slid down though, saw what Seed saw from his own point of view. “Ah… I ran into some trouble.” Understatement of the year. He would have shrugged, except that instead he lost his balance completely and fell against Seed.
Alarm replaced confusion on Seed's features as Culgan suddenly sagged against him. Quickly, on instinct, he moved his arms to his friend's back, lowering him as gently as he could -but quite awkwardly- to the cold stone floor of the corridor.
Mechanically, he went through the motions engrained in him by his training. First, he brought a hand to Culgan's face, trying to see if he was breathing. When he felt nothing, he knelt down, tilting Culgan's head back, breathing into his mouth. His chest rose once, then twice. This time, when Seed moved close, he felt a small puff of air against his cheek. There was still hope.
The next step was to stabilize him enough to be able to carry him to the infirmary. He attempted to quickly unbutton his friend's coat and shirt, then simply pulled at the fabric, his hands shaking, ripping the buttons off. He ignored the obvious wounds, like the ones on his shoulder, and concentrated on the gory gash across his friend's abdomen. Seed was no doctor, but he could tell what a potentially mortal blow looked like...
Harnessing the power of his flowing rune, he pressed a hand against the wound, releasing soothing, healing magic. A rune master honed in the complexities of such a rune could probably fix most of the shredded skin and muscle, but he was a soldier with a rudimentary knowledge of healing... his talents with the runes were for destroying, not restoring. Luckily, even a soldier's runic first aid should be enough to get Culgan to the infirmary. He cast again, feeling his friend's breathing strengthen under his touch.
This whole experience was surreal. He regained consciousness shortly after Seed forced his body to breathe again, though he wasn’t able to do much in the way of focusing. There had been none of that ‘life-flashing-before-eyes’ that people always talked about. There simply had been nothing. He really didn’t want to feel what that was like again. Breathing erratically, but still breathing at least, he moved a hand on top of Seed’s and just… smiled.
The look on his face was one who didn’t think they were going to make it. “Thanks.” No ‘thank you,’ he couldn’t manage the extra word, but he was completely sincere. There was some emotion that was hard to place behind the word. After he spoke, though, he lapsed back into unconsciousness. He would probably be stable enough to move if Seed could keep the flowing rune going for a little bit.
Culgan was breathing on his own, he opened his eyes, he... talked.
That hand on his... it reminded him of foggy memories, of the horrible, groggy feeling of his life slowly ebbing away, of his body corrupting from the inside. That time, his own life had been in mortal danger, and Culgan had comforted him.
He comforted him even now, as he was the one suffering.
"Culgan? CULGAN?"
And then his friend smiled. But that smile... that smile belonged to someone who had given up, to someone who was saying goodbye...
He had seen countless people die on the battlefield, shot, maimed, trampled by horses. He had lost his trusty second-in-command, he had lost friends from his village, but he couldn't lose Culgan.
"Don't you dare give up on me, you old warhorse... I was supposed to die first. D'you hear me? I WAS SUPPOSED TO DIE FIRST."
There was something yelling at him. He could hear it. It was disturbing him, and it sounded remarkably like he was being scolded for falling asleep… like when he was a child. Culgan cracked his eyes open and there he was again: Seed. Everything still seemed hazy, but… it was different. Describing how it felt when your body decided it was going to try to live again was impossible.
The words he was going to say sounded great in his head. Too bad they came out differently: “Aren’t… s’posed to… die…” It was of course meant to be eloquent. He hated that it sounded so weak. His breathing seemed to have stabilized, though. He gripped Seed’s hand fairly firm, for someone in his condition. “Can’t let you…” He paused to clear his throat, “be on your own… anyway…”
Seed swallowed hard, this was not the time to cry like a child about to lose his father. His family was gone, so was Highland, Culgan was all he had left... for now. "Just stop talking and look at me. Don't you dare close your eyes. Don't you DARE Culgan, or I'll kill you myself!"
Culgan knew Seed well enough to be able to read him like an open book, most of the time. He also knew how much the man despised crying. Partly because it was his natural reaction, and partly to hopefully distract the red head… he smirked. “That a threat, or a promise?” Oh hey, he could get out actual sentences again. Inwardly he was pretty pleased about that development. The pain was lessening, too. He didn’t quite feel like death was reaching out for him anymore. Still… he felt sleepy. But he did as Seed demanded.
"Shutup", snapped Seed as he poured his last spell into Culgan's body. Inwardly, he cursed himself for not learning more about healing. He was always so reckless. But his friend's breathing seemed less labored, and he had stopped bleeding...
"This is gonna hurt", he warned Culgan as he slipped one arm under his knees, and one under his back, repositioning himself slightly before lifting the taller man off the ground. He shifted his friend's body in his arms, making his way towards the infirmary as fast as he could without jolting Culgan too much.
He didn’t even need to comment, the arched brow said it all. Of course, he didn’t mind keeping quiet… and as intended Seed had been successfully distracted. The man, pale without blood loss as it was, looked almost like a statue. He nodded… bracing himself.
The groan was inevitable, but he kept most of it behind clenched teeth. It was ironic, in a sense… “This seems familiar.” Culgan managed to say quietly, referring to a previous incident where he had been the one doing the carrying. He kept his other pained noises internal, thankful for the simple fact he didn’t have to walk.
Seed snorted at the reference: "At least I kept quiet." The infirmary never seemed so remote, even on that day he had dragged his own battered body with Camus's help upon his arrival to Budehuc.
Culgan did something he never did: He pouted. Or at least it was close to a pout. He would deny it later, of course, and it disappeared quickly enough. Being quiet normally was not an issue for him. There was something about death staring you in the face that got to him. That was when it occurred to him that he did not hear any sounds of battle at all, nor did he smell smoke. “It is too quiet.” He murmured, mostly to himself.
Seed ignored Culgan, and called out as soon as he was within range of the infirmary: "I have an emergency here... QUICKLY!"
The infirmary staff were used to emergencies, particularly with the current crowd inhabiting the area. If they were feeling anxious as a couple darted out in response they only showed it minimally. Culgan was too busy staring at the unfamiliar outfits to pay much attention to what was going on.
“Over here, please!” Stated one of the staff, waving Seed toward an uninhabited bed while another immediately started asking what had caused the damage. Culgan felt like a fish out of water at that point. There was a battle going on, wasn’t there? … this place looked nothing like L’Renoille now that he thought about it. He didn’t particularly want to answer them. He’d much rather they just looked for themselves. It was pretty obvious when looked at, at least he thought so.
Thankfully, the one doing the miniature interrogation was waved off to get supplies… he had the impression the teen was going to be scolded later.
Seed relinquished Culgan, watching as the healers started poking and prodding at his friend, talking between themselves. "He's in bad shape..." "It's a wonder he's still breathing..."
He was dismissed with a wave of the hand, and exploded. "What's going on? Why won't anyone talk to me?"
His only answer was an authoritative finger pointing towards the exit.
"I'm not going! Culgan!"
An unfortunate orderly caught his arm, trying to steer him away... he yelped as Seed twisted his elbow and sent him flying across the infirmary.
Culgan got one of those long-suffering looks as they started in on him. He supposed at least the bed was more comfortable than stone, but he preferred Seed’s ministrations to this bunch. It couldn’t be helped-however, his eyes were drawn toward his friend as they attempted to escort him out of the room. He could have told them what the reaction would be, if they’d bothered to ask what either of them felt about it.
Before they had a chance to react he reached up and grabbed the nearest to him by the collar, then yanked him close. “I suggest you let him stay.” He stated, holding on long enough to get his point across before letting go.
The orderly, or whatever he was, just stared at him for a moment. The entire infirmary had stopped to stare at the flung orderly. Someone, he wasn’t sure who, squeaked out that they would allow it ‘just this once.’ Probably more in order to spare anyone else from potential injury than any other reason. Culgan attempted to meet Seed’s eyes, hoping he was paying attention, before he added: “He is family to me.”
Seed's hand had jumped to his sword before Culgan acted, and the blade had partially slid out of its scabbard when he was finally told he could stay. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and reached the bed as a sleep spell was cast on Culgan, to prepare him for the surgery.
He felt slightly foolish, one of Highland's great generals dropping to his knees near a bed, clutching his best friend's hand in his, but it was nothing next to the gnawing fear that he would lose Culgan again. "I'll be waiting for you to wake up, my friend. Don't disappoint me."