#pain; suffering; the lettie llondonfog usual <3

[llondonfog]

diasomnia month // prompt 10 — rain

The weather of Briar Valley has always been harsh, perhaps more in tune with their draconian rulers than nature itself, but this rainstorm seems to take exceptional delight in its cruelty.

It hammers with a vengeance against Lilia's armor, soaking the already stained arachne-spun garments beneath into a gruesome slurry of sweat and blood that splatters to the crushed foliage below— though none his own.

"A healer to me, NOW!"

The roar of his own voice breaking across the relentless thunder of the rain and cacophony of scrambling soldiers hardly sounds familiar; there is an undercurrent of true fear like the bloated, dark bellies of the clouds above them, roiling and ready to release. There is no time to be grateful that the din of the storm itself drowns out his weakness, but there is no time for anything at all as the seconds tick down with every passing moment that the boy collapsed in his arms heaves blood over Lilia's trembling hands.

"You foolish, fucking child!"

It is easier to be incandescent with anger, to reach into that raw, bubbling rage inside of himself rather than expose his heart for what it has become. It is easier to hurl curses at that wretched human as the boy blinks unfocused eyes up at Lilia's face as if to focus on the moon itself, his gloved hands slipping and sliding over the ragged hole pierced through his stomach like that might keep his organs inside.

"I could have easily dodged that blow, I did not ask for you to defend me like some hapless fledgling!"

His voice is rising to strange, new octaves as the rain saps the already pallid color from the human child's face, streaking down his cheeks and plastering his bangs to his skin— Lilia finds himself struck with the bizarre desire to brush them away if he were not bleeding out in his very arms. There's absolutely no remorse or shame in that disgustingly honest face, and Lilia's heart all but twists itself into oblivion as the boy chokes out "Father—" as if in prayer, as if to summon the man himself to save him from his fate.

"BAUL, A HEALER TO ME, NOW!"