Post by Forgoil Halifirien on Aug 16, 2006 11:13:24 GMT -5
ooc: Ugh; this post was meant for the War thread and all; but it's gone up in smoke...which makes me sad for more than two reasons. But despite all the confusion that I'm going through, I'll try to accurately go with the flow. This takes place after the War of course and Forgoil has been rendered unconscious for the entirety of that time.
ic: There wasn't much that he could remember after he had left the ruins of the Great Gate to fight out on the blood-stained fields, but he always remembered hearing two voices. The first voice and the one he remembered clearly was definitely feminine, but things had just gone to his head after he had lost so much blood and he couldn't place a face to the voice that he had heard. But....he could never forget the worry, the concern, or the sadness that had laced that voice and just thinking about it made Forgoil depressed that he had caused someone to worry so badly. Then there was the second voice, deep and rustic like the Earth, and that voice had stressed endurance and survival in such a commanding tone it reminding him of a certain purple-haired beauty. And then it struck him like a brick; who had survived?
Bolting upright from a fitful sleep, Forgoil Halifirien found himself in a bed located amongst others in the Hospital Wing, but from his vantage point it seemed that he was the sole patient at the moment. Unbuttoning the pajama top that covered his torso, Forgoil looked about for where his wounds from the battle had been but there was nothing that resembled a scar that his eyes could pick up. Peering under the covers to check on his thigh wounds, he found that they too were in perfect condition. So were his arms and it seemed that whomever had healed him knew their stuff, but Forgoil was still doubtful cause some appearances are only skin deep. And he found such a scar; where a spell had nearly took out his eye there was a jagged scar about his right eye, but it blended in with his eyebrow and actually enhanced it to a degree; one bushy eyebrow and the other looking quite hawk-like.
For the moment, the grey-haired boy put his appearance aside and looked out a nearby window; expecting to see the carnage of War to stare back at him. But to his surprise there was nothing; no rubble from the Great Gate, no bodies, and nothing resembling War littered the fields. There was instead a new Gate, more of an Arch, and everything was normal. This didn't make any sense at all to the Hufflepuff; it would take days to erect such an arch and to clean up the aftermath, but then again...how long had he really been out for? It had just felt to him that he had only been sleeping, fitfully at that, and that it was just after he was presumably saved. For all he knew; it could be the start of a new school year and that was the case; he'd be missing the start of it. He didn't have any of the required books, the pens, or paper. His friends would never let up on the prepared boy for being unprepared...wait a tic...his friends!
His first thoughts had been about them but Forgoil drifted off topic and found himself wondering about what time he had awoken up in. So many of his friends were fighting out there just as he had and did they make it out alright? Or were they cold and buried beneath the ground? No; Roan wouldn't go down without a fight so she couldn't be dead. Lottie; the grey-haired Prefect was certain he hadn't seen her in the main fighting, but then again...there was always a chance. Rezna would find a reason to live on; there was always some reason or another driving her to continue to be herself. The Headmaster...no he couldn't be dead, cause he was the only one that could order reconstruction of the grounds and the creation of the Arch; unless a new Head had replaced him. And what about her; he hadn't been able to apologize about his behavior to her before the outbreak of the War, and knowing that purple-haired daredevil she would been in the thick of things...
And that's what worried Forgoil Halifirien of Edinburgh the most; she was always a reckless lass who wouldn't say no to any challenge, and yet he had always liked that about her. But if she had been too reckless and it had caught up with her...at this point Forgoil's tear ducts gave in a slow trickle of tears began to run down the contours of his face. 'Stop crying!', commanded Forgoil to himself, but he couldn't stop it, 'If she's gone; do you think she'd want you to cry for her? After all she had done to make you smile again and enjoy life? No! She would've wanted you to remember her for the good times and not now! Get a hold of yourself laddie!'. Sniffing back whatever tears remained, Forgoil tossed his legs over the sides of the bed and very carefully began to push himself up so that he could stand. Every inch that he gained in height added more pressure to his legs and it felt like they would buckle at any second, but somehow they remained strong; unlike Forgoil's soul. Exhaling a sigh, Forgoil took one step toward the doors of the Hospital Wing...
And instantly a surge of pain erupted from his thighs and traveled down the nerves of his legs; leaving the instantaneous contraction of muscles and pain as they went. The Scot cried out in pain as he fell heavily to the floor; for a few minutes he was just content to lay there and cry, but if anyone found him they would see him out of bed and crying. He was only comfortable to cry in front of a select few, but anyone else would just see a stoic face that carried no sorrow on it. And he mustn't let that self-image that he had created slip now, so struggling painfully Forgoil grabbed onto the mattress of his and slowly pulled himself back onto the bed. Once there his nerves relaxed and the intense pain that he felt was gone, but left behind was a stronger pain that could only accompany thoughts. Staring up to the ceiling, Forgoil mused to himself, "What's become of them?"
ic: There wasn't much that he could remember after he had left the ruins of the Great Gate to fight out on the blood-stained fields, but he always remembered hearing two voices. The first voice and the one he remembered clearly was definitely feminine, but things had just gone to his head after he had lost so much blood and he couldn't place a face to the voice that he had heard. But....he could never forget the worry, the concern, or the sadness that had laced that voice and just thinking about it made Forgoil depressed that he had caused someone to worry so badly. Then there was the second voice, deep and rustic like the Earth, and that voice had stressed endurance and survival in such a commanding tone it reminding him of a certain purple-haired beauty. And then it struck him like a brick; who had survived?
Bolting upright from a fitful sleep, Forgoil Halifirien found himself in a bed located amongst others in the Hospital Wing, but from his vantage point it seemed that he was the sole patient at the moment. Unbuttoning the pajama top that covered his torso, Forgoil looked about for where his wounds from the battle had been but there was nothing that resembled a scar that his eyes could pick up. Peering under the covers to check on his thigh wounds, he found that they too were in perfect condition. So were his arms and it seemed that whomever had healed him knew their stuff, but Forgoil was still doubtful cause some appearances are only skin deep. And he found such a scar; where a spell had nearly took out his eye there was a jagged scar about his right eye, but it blended in with his eyebrow and actually enhanced it to a degree; one bushy eyebrow and the other looking quite hawk-like.
For the moment, the grey-haired boy put his appearance aside and looked out a nearby window; expecting to see the carnage of War to stare back at him. But to his surprise there was nothing; no rubble from the Great Gate, no bodies, and nothing resembling War littered the fields. There was instead a new Gate, more of an Arch, and everything was normal. This didn't make any sense at all to the Hufflepuff; it would take days to erect such an arch and to clean up the aftermath, but then again...how long had he really been out for? It had just felt to him that he had only been sleeping, fitfully at that, and that it was just after he was presumably saved. For all he knew; it could be the start of a new school year and that was the case; he'd be missing the start of it. He didn't have any of the required books, the pens, or paper. His friends would never let up on the prepared boy for being unprepared...wait a tic...his friends!
His first thoughts had been about them but Forgoil drifted off topic and found himself wondering about what time he had awoken up in. So many of his friends were fighting out there just as he had and did they make it out alright? Or were they cold and buried beneath the ground? No; Roan wouldn't go down without a fight so she couldn't be dead. Lottie; the grey-haired Prefect was certain he hadn't seen her in the main fighting, but then again...there was always a chance. Rezna would find a reason to live on; there was always some reason or another driving her to continue to be herself. The Headmaster...no he couldn't be dead, cause he was the only one that could order reconstruction of the grounds and the creation of the Arch; unless a new Head had replaced him. And what about her; he hadn't been able to apologize about his behavior to her before the outbreak of the War, and knowing that purple-haired daredevil she would been in the thick of things...
And that's what worried Forgoil Halifirien of Edinburgh the most; she was always a reckless lass who wouldn't say no to any challenge, and yet he had always liked that about her. But if she had been too reckless and it had caught up with her...at this point Forgoil's tear ducts gave in a slow trickle of tears began to run down the contours of his face. 'Stop crying!', commanded Forgoil to himself, but he couldn't stop it, 'If she's gone; do you think she'd want you to cry for her? After all she had done to make you smile again and enjoy life? No! She would've wanted you to remember her for the good times and not now! Get a hold of yourself laddie!'. Sniffing back whatever tears remained, Forgoil tossed his legs over the sides of the bed and very carefully began to push himself up so that he could stand. Every inch that he gained in height added more pressure to his legs and it felt like they would buckle at any second, but somehow they remained strong; unlike Forgoil's soul. Exhaling a sigh, Forgoil took one step toward the doors of the Hospital Wing...
And instantly a surge of pain erupted from his thighs and traveled down the nerves of his legs; leaving the instantaneous contraction of muscles and pain as they went. The Scot cried out in pain as he fell heavily to the floor; for a few minutes he was just content to lay there and cry, but if anyone found him they would see him out of bed and crying. He was only comfortable to cry in front of a select few, but anyone else would just see a stoic face that carried no sorrow on it. And he mustn't let that self-image that he had created slip now, so struggling painfully Forgoil grabbed onto the mattress of his and slowly pulled himself back onto the bed. Once there his nerves relaxed and the intense pain that he felt was gone, but left behind was a stronger pain that could only accompany thoughts. Staring up to the ceiling, Forgoil mused to himself, "What's become of them?"