#...i wasn't even in the fandom i didn't know what a transformer OR a socket was I JUST WANTED TO DRAW FAST CARS

[sociallyawkwardfoxwriter]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: Major Character Death Category: M/M Fandoms: Critical Role (Web Series),Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse) Relationships: Orym/Dorian Storm, Leon S. Kennedy/Chris Redfield Characters: Orym (Critical Role), Dorian Storm, Leon S. Kennedy, Chris Redfield, Rebecca Chambers, Imogen Temult, Ashton Greymoore, Cyrus Wyvernwind, Piers Nivans, Laudna (Critical Role), Fearne Calloway Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Nightmares, Burns, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Orym’s Dead Spouse (Critical Role), Sobbing, Human Experimentation, Stitches, drugged, Hospitals, Injury Recovery, Chronic Pain, Scars, Strangulation, Panic, Mind Control, Dissociation, Depression

Day Twenty-Five. Muffled Screams

While he tried not to let his worry show too much, he could tell that the others could see right through him. Despite their conversation, Fresh Cut Grass and Ashton kept glancing over to him almost like they were keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn't ruin everything. Laudna had that knowing smile that always creeped him out a little bit. As was typical, Chetney seemed annoyed by him, but not interested in saying anything. Their notice only made the anxiety roiling in his chest all the more noticeable.

“I'm sure they’re fine.” Spindly fingers crawled over his shoulder and Laudna's voice whispered in his ear. “If something were wrong, Imogen would have said something. There's no reason to look so nervous. They're fine.”

“That can change in a second.”

“Sure, but that's the fun of it! Things can go from being absolutely fine to completely horrific in the blink of an eye.”

“That's... comforting.”

“Don't you think!”

He gave a jerky nod of his head and tried to think of any response that would steer the conversation away from the current topic. A scream muffled by the door separating them from the others sent all of those thoughts right out of his head. Before he could do anything, Ashton smashed through the door with a single swing of their hammer. Their charge into the room stopped much shorter than he expected, and it didn't take more than a second to figure out why.

Imogen and Fearne were both pinned against the wall with their hands locked in place to prevent them from casting. Neither of them looked hurt, but it was obvious the ones holding them wouldn't hesitate to do so. The same could not be said for Orym. His arm dangling oddly at his side like the bone that connected it to his shoulder no longer sat in the socket. A large hand covered the entire lower half of his face and an arm trapped him against a body much bigger than Orym's own.

“Ah, there they are. I was beginning to think you'd be late to the show. I hate to be kept waiting.”

“We're here now.” Ashton's words sounded like pure venom spat at the man in fury. “What the fuck do you want?”

“Now, now, we're not going to rush. You kept me waiting. It's only fair that I repay the favor. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“What the fuck do you want?”

A quick step forward to cut the distance between them caused Orym to release a scream of pain from his arm moving. “I said, it's your turn to be patient. Do you understand?”

“Fine.”

“That's the spirit. Play along, and maybe I'll let a couple of you live. I could use a few people with your skillsets.”

His predatory eyes moved around the room, taking his time to focus on each of them individually. The entire time he kept his tight hold on Orym, not caring when the slightest movement jostled Orym's broken arm. Even from a distance, Dorian could see the sweat beading on his forehead and his eyes struggling to stay open. A part of him wished that Orym would stop fighting unconsciousness, so he wasn't aware of the pain from being moved around like a doll. The more selfish part begged for him to fight it to prevent any question of whether he was alive or not.

“Isn't this cute?” The harshness of the words cut through Dorian sharp as a knife, drawing his attention to dark eyes staring right at him. “Are you worried about him? What would you do if I broke the other one? Would that upset you to see? He's such a small thing. It's almost too easy to break him.”

“What do you want from us?”

A resounding pop filled the room as Orym let out a blood curdling scream somehow made worse by the hand blocking the full impact of the sound. His feet moved for him as he pulled free his scimitar, only to draw short when Ashton threw an arm out to block his path. As the man smirked at him, the grip he had on his scimitar tightened to the point he could feel the braided hilt imprinting on his palm.

“That's more like it! Finally, a little bit of spunk. Tell me, what do you want to do with that sword? Paint me a picture, bard.”

“Before or after I free him?”

“That's quite the imagination. He's not going anywhere. He's happy where he is. Aren't you?” The man shook Orym by the jaw, pulling another scream out of him and rolling his eyes back in his head. “Hear that? He's having fun.”

“How about this? I'll cut your tongue out, then we'll see who's having fun.”

“I almost believe you'd do it, but you don't want to risk him. At the end of the day, I'll always have the upper hand. It's bor-”

A crackle of purple lightning filled the room with a bright intensity that almost forced him to shut his eyes. Barely managing to keep them open, meant he saw the perfect moment to break Orym free of the man's hold. This time the scream sounded clear in his ears, but he couldn't let the pain in it stop him from getting Orym safely away from them. Just a little longer and he could make it better. Just a little longer and he could take the pain away.

While the others burst into action, he cradled Orym close to his chest as he sprinted for the busted down door. A few feet away from the door he slowly lowered to the ground to prevent any unnecessary moving of Orym's dislocated shoulders. When he guided Orym away from his chest to assess the damage, it almost took him by surprise that unfocused eyes watched him.

“Orym, I need to heal your arms.”

“Please?”

“It might hurt a little, but it will only take a few seconds for each. I'm going to start with the left one. Breathe for me.”

He placed a surprisingly steady hand on Orym's upper arm, then simultaneously pushed up and cast a healing spell. A hoarse cry followed by heavy breathing brought him to a pause while he waited for Orym to get through it. As soon as his breathing returned to normal, he gave Orym's other arm the same treatment. The instant it popped back into place he pulled Orym tight against his chest and sent an extra wave of healing to help lessen the pain.

“Fuck, where were you when I was six and broke my arm?” Orym's groan reverberated through Dorian from the close proximity when he tried to roll a shoulder and pulled up short. “Bad idea. I need to sit here for a second.”

He pressed a hand to the center of Orym's back to push more healing into him. “Take your time. I can heal you again.”

“Thank you.”

“I was terrified when we heard you scream.” His face pressed into the sweaty hair atop Orym's head. “I'm so glad you're alive. No more going to meet people without me.”

“Deal.”