Raphael | OC/Christian Myth | noncombatant/medicstirsthewatersMarch 30 2012, 17:11:20 UTC
[You know this guy. Everyone seems to know this guy. He's that guy who always has a light when everyone else is out of matches. The one who can find bandages where nobody else can. The one who's always in whatever trench or foxhole needs him there the most, who specializes in talking sense to the scared and the angry and the wounded.
Weirdly, nobody seems to know what unit he's officially with. Or where he's from, come to think of it. He's just here, a fixture of the war just like official incompetence and delayed peace treaties.
And when you need a medic, and there shouldn't be one on hand for miles -- somehow, this guy has a habit of showing up anyway.]
TML! Serenity Valley.werewolf_hackerApril 2 2012, 18:28:26 UTC
[Ben ain't sure how long he's been lying face-down in the mud, bleedin' and paralyzed. He does know that the last battle he was in devolved to hand-to-hand pretty quick, and he's surrounded by dead purplebellies.
He also knows that sometime in there, the rage and pain from his many wounds made him Change. He'd at least had the presence of mind to strip his coat off before he did, and it's crumpled in a heap just beyond his reach.
And someone, in the melee, had known what he was and shot him with a silver bullet right before the man's throat had disappeared under his jaws. But the bullet is lodged in his spine, and he's back to human, naked, and can't feel his legs. A burning numbness creeps up his back, however, and it's only a matter of time, he knows.
That's all right. He's lived a long while. He's ready to go Home. It don't even hurt much no more, though he's cold.]
Yea. Though I walk. Through the valley. Shadow-a death. Won't fear no evil...
So am I, old friend. [Raph sounds weary down to his bones, actually, as he passes a hand down Ben's spine, looking for the bullet. It doesn't come as easily as it would. He's been in this valley a long time, and he's running low on energy.]
[He goes limp. Limper. A single sob tears its way from his throat before he clamps down on it.] Oh. [And that hurts worse than the compound fracture in his tibia, which he can feel again thanks to the bullet being out of his back.]
[And Raph has nothing else to offer. Not even enough energy left to do more than set the bone back in place and nudge it towards healing; it's been a long battle and he hasn't been holding much back.]
[Ben just closes his eyes and nods into the ground that's been churned to mud by battle and blood.] Thanks, Raph. Be okay now. [Physically.] 'f you see Guri 'round, and he ain't busy, I'd be obliged 'f you'd send him my way.
My brother will come when he is able, Ben. [Raph can't even afford to roll him over. Not and risk damaging his wounded spine further. Just because the bullet is out. . . .] I will wait with you, until someone comes.
Thanks, Raph, but... ain't there others need your services? I'll live now. An' walk again. [He has no words for how relieved he is about that.] But I wouldn't like someone to die because they needed you and you was sittin' with me instead. [His jaw tightens.] Been enough dyin'.
More than enough. [Raphael suddenly looks very old and very sad and worn beyond belief. His uniform is so black with mud and blood and other less identifiable substances that nobody could tell which army it belongs to, if any.
He closes his eyes and turns his face up to a very unfriendly sky. It's threatening to rain again.] There's nobody left to save, Ben.
...oh. [Ben heaves a shuddering sigh. His face is wet with rain and smeared with mud and blood. He can keep the sobs contained, but no one will notice a few stray tears, right? He snakes a hand out and grasps Raph's. He's got a little spare Grace, and he lends it, gladly.] Love you, Raph. I hope it weren't all for nothin'.
[Raphael sighs. He's not supposed to take comfort from humankind, he's meant to do the exact opposite of that, but at this moment he is very old and very tired, and he tightens his fingers gently around Ben's and lets that spare Grace rekindle his own, a bit.] So do I, Ben.
[Well, Ben's not "humankind," strictly, he's a Hound of God, even if he's a bit tarnished 'round the edges, so he reckons he can give his brother comfort if he wants.] I been in more wars'n I can count. Some declared, some not. I know you have too.
No one ever learns from 'em. Just better'n easier ways to kill folk.
Weirdly, nobody seems to know what unit he's officially with. Or where he's from, come to think of it. He's just here, a fixture of the war just like official incompetence and delayed peace treaties.
And when you need a medic, and there shouldn't be one on hand for miles -- somehow, this guy has a habit of showing up anyway.]
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He also knows that sometime in there, the rage and pain from his many wounds made him Change. He'd at least had the presence of mind to strip his coat off before he did, and it's crumpled in a heap just beyond his reach.
And someone, in the melee, had known what he was and shot him with a silver bullet right before the man's throat had disappeared under his jaws. But the bullet is lodged in his spine, and he's back to human, naked, and can't feel his legs. A burning numbness creeps up his back, however, and it's only a matter of time, he knows.
That's all right. He's lived a long while. He's ready to go Home. It don't even hurt much no more, though he's cold.]
Yea. Though I walk. Through the valley. Shadow-a death. Won't fear no evil...
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[A warm weight settles over Ben's back -- his coat, drawn over him with a gentle hand.]
We do meet in the strangest places, Ben Lockwood.
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[He closes his eyes.] 'm tired.
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...did we win? ["We" being subjective. He knows that Raph doesn't necessarily pick sides in battles like this.]
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No, Ben. You did not.
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[And Raph has nothing else to offer. Not even enough energy left to do more than set the bone back in place and nudge it towards healing; it's been a long battle and he hasn't been holding much back.]
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He closes his eyes and turns his face up to a very unfriendly sky. It's threatening to rain again.] There's nobody left to save, Ben.
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Oh, so do I.
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No one ever learns from 'em. Just better'n easier ways to kill folk.
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