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daisy-mooon · 8 months

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Trap

Whumptober Day 11: Animal trap

Unformatted again sorry babes 💖

He's walked just barely around the wall when he steps into something, and realises that he maybe should not have stepped there.

"Apollo, what-" Meg crosses around to face him, and stops. She stares at his foot. "Is that a bear trap?"

"Um."

He looks down at what he definitely should not have stepped in, and true to Meg's words, his foot is wedged inside of a beartrap. Why there is a bear trap in the middle of Commodus' headquarters, he hasn't got the slightest clue, but it's there alright, and he's stepped in it.

He gestures weakly at it.

"...yep." Meg looks more confused and worried than scared or horrified, which he supposes is a good sign for how much damage its done. "Why-"

"What's up, Meggers, whats up Lest-" Leo decides to round the corner at that exact moment, and stares at his foot. "Holy fuck, is that a bear trap?"

He sprints forwards in a moment, hands running over the device. He's careful to be gentle. "It's made of imperial gold. Who the Hades makes a bear trap out of imperial gold?"

Then, he stops to examine the wound its made.

Silence.

"So.." The looseness of his jeans means that he cant really get a good look at it. Heknows that it hurts, and he knows from Britomartis' 'fun' that getting smacked with a bear trap is very, very bad, but he's not sure that he can actually feel it hurting. Is that good or bad? "How is it?"

Leo doesn't even bother to crack a joke. Uh oh.

"How much pain are you in right now?" This is the most serious he's ever seen him, and it's quite frankly terrifying. Apollo tries to glance at Meg for comfort. Her face is unusually pale.

He takes a moment to think about how much pain he's in. He looks carefully at the wound and catches a glance of blood and flesh and the tiniest peak of bone. It suddenly starts hurting a lot more than it did a few moments ago. "Ow."

"Okay… well, we need to get you back to me Waystation." Leo begins, and he opens his mouth immediately. "Dude. Imperial gold wounds will literally eat at your soul if you're not careful. I'm shocked you didn't lose your foot."

"He almost lost his foot?" Meg demands, snapping to life by his side. He's semi slumped against the wall, awkwardly trying to keep his leg still whilst breathing through the pain. This is ridiculous. He's a god. He's been stuck in traps like these before. Why does it hurt so much?

"He could have. Whoever designed this wasn't playing around. It's almost like Commodus wanted one of Apollo's feet or something."

Apollo chooses to ignore that, which is pretty easy, considering there are imperial gold teeth stabbing right into his leg, into muscle and grazing bone, and clenching around it. "

"We can't go back." He gasps oddly. "We need to find Georgina. And the Throne of Memory-"

Meg looks conflicted, and focuses on his. She's focusing very hard on his face to avoid looking at his leg.. "I don't think you can do a lot for Georgina with your foot… like that. But I don't know how we'd carry you back until we get her and the Throne."

"Oh gods." He hears Leo groan below, and he tries not to slump. "Meg, do you remember where we passed Commodus' weird health clinic thingy?"

"...yes?" The rhinestones in her glasses sparkle as she tilts her head.

"I'm going to need you to run there, and get me a painkiller, a wipe, and as many bandages as you can carry."

"Oh."

It's clear that she doesn't want to leave him, and she grips his hand stiffly before she ducks off, rushing forward with intensity. The pace is almost fast enough to match his own heartbeat, a desperately racing rhythm that drives discomfort into his bones. Apollo thunks his head back on the wall to try and closes his eyes in the attempt to distance himself from the hazy agony, but its fairly useless.

"Can you heal?" He opens his eyes briefly to see Leo's face looking up at him. Any and all temptations to smite him vanish completely as concern waters through his eyes.

"Heal who?" A shiver races through him, foot included. He almost throws up.

"Can you heal you?" Leo squints. "Everything I know is from YouTube tutorials. We didn't have a lot of doctors on the Argo II. I mainly just know how to be sure people don't die and then how to throw ambrosia at them in a nice way."

The shiver returns, and he slaps his eyes shut. "...don't think so."

Footsteps come racing back and Leo startles next to him, but he knows these footsteps. They're Meg's. Meg means safe. Usually. "I have the stuff you wanted."

He hears rummaging, and then silence. "...ibuprofen?"

"I didn't know if there was any…" a faint waving sound, "you know, spicy painkillers. Sorry."

"Ibuprofen takes about half an hour to work, and needs to be taken with liquid to swallow." Apollo mumbles. His body feels feverish. His leg feels like a supernova.

"I know, I know. We'll get you some water in a minute." He guesses that Leo has sat down next to him, and that he's looking at his foot. Wow. Lucky him. "I am not going to try and cauterise this, so when I pull the bear trap out, Meg, we need to be able to wrap his leg as soon as I clean it."

…what.

"You shouldn't take something you've been impaled with unless you're in a hospital or a doctor says it's safe to do so." Apollo protests weakly.

"We don't have any doctors or hospitals on hand right now, and if we leave you in the bear trap, Commodus is just going to find you and capture you." Fuck. Leo is right. It still doesn't make it any better. "I'm going to do a count down, okay?"

"Okay."

He tries to steel himself, tries to press his fingers into his palms and bites his lip. He misses the countdown entirely, and passes out the moment the bear trap yanks out of him.

Apollo comes too faintly, his eyes only just fluttering open, and the moment that his eye meets the fluorescent ceiling lights, he swears hard enough that Zeus would try to clean his mouth out with soap. He hasn't done that in millenia, but hey, he wouldn't put it past him.

"Wake up, dummy."

It's phrased more as a plead than a command, but he pushes himself up almost on instinct, and catches Meg's eyes almost immediately. She looks… strangely relieved, her face grim but glad too see him as she curls her arms around him in an unexpected hug.

"What-" He glances around, and sees the heavy bandaging around his foot, and the bloody, disassembled bear trap next to him.

He should have been thinking about how much pain he's in, or he should be thinking about how happy is to see Meg or how grateful he is that Leo took out the bear trap without killing him instantly, but the only thought he can muster is, "This is stupid."

Meg and Leo snort at the same time. Leo looks… delighted to see that he's okay, which is weird but whatever.

"M'kay." Apollo fumbles at the ground around him, and begins to prise himself out of the floor. "Georgina time."

"No." Meg scolds him at once, latching herself onto his arm like a koala bear. Which is sweet… but not very helpful considering he only has three fully functioning limbs to start with.

"We have to." He snipes back immediately. "You guys can go ahead. I'll just… shoot with my bow. Its a long range weapon anyway."

They exchange a look, and their shoulders droop. Again, this happens at the same time. Had they not had completely different parents and have a four year age gap, they may as well have been twins.

"God's, Lester." Leo pinches his nose bridge. His hands are stained faintly with blood. "Okay, fine. But your leg is going to hate you."

He decides to ignore what his leg will think, and pushes upwards. They had a child to rescue, and a chair to recover. They clearly didn't have time for his injury… as much as it did, absolutely hurt.

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elfyourmother · 5 years

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Prompt #4 - Shifting Blame

[tagging @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

cw: mild 5.0 spoilers, innuendo and mild groping because haurchefant gotta haurchefant]

In the distance, fires still raged in Holminster, burning high into the now darkened sky; Gisele could still see the plumes of black smoke, and her thoughts turned briefly grim. How many such hamlets had she seen this way? Far too many to count, across two worlds.

But they had returned to Fort Jobb, and there Haurchefant stood instructing the Crystarium soldiers; it seemed there were villagers still unaccounted for, who could yet be saved now that the sin eaters had fled in the wake of their master’s demise. He’d fallen so easily back into the role of Knight Commander that it was entirely believable to Gisele that they were back in Coerthas at Camp Dragonhead, rather than a world away.

When first he fell to the then-mysterious voice, upon the field at the Gyr Abanian front, Gisele vowed to save him; but this was not how she dreamed of their reunion, not in the thick of battle, racing against time to save a doomed village from a sin eater horde. His utter confusion at her sudden appearance—changed as it was—had to wait. They’d no time for weepy embraces. It was agony waiting for him to finish giving his orders, but even before she could take a single step, Haurchefant strode to her, dropping his shield, and pulled her tightly into his arms.

“Haurche,” Gisele whispered, her voice cracking as she wrapped her arms about him and clung to his burgundy tabard, emblazoned with the Crystarium’s spire coat of arms.

“Ah, Gisele! How I’ve missed you, my heart. Had I known you followed us to the First, I would have flown to your side with such haste, one would mistake me for one of your Red Mages!” Haurchefant cried, squeezing her tightly.

“I have no doubt, my love. There is much and more we must discuss, of your exploits here, and of news from home,” Gisele said.

“Pray tell among this news, there is an explanation for these,” he said wryly, reaching up to stroke the long, furry ears soft as lamb’s wool.

“Somewhat to do with my aether, according to G’ra—the Exarch,” Gisele said, catching herself as she glimpsed the viis guard captain out of the corner of her eye. “I am not a native of the Source, and as such somewhat went awry when drawing me here. His explanation was vague enough that I’m not certain even heknows why I’m no longer an Elezen. Are you...wroth?”

She was not accustomed to being so self conscious, but it was the only thing Gisele could think of, when first she saw the change in her body; even beyond the Scions’ acceptance of her identity, that she was in fact their comrade Lady Gisele Surana des Fortemps et Borel, better known as the Warrior of Light, she feared most keenly that Haurchefant would no longer love or desire her, now that she inexplicably no longer shared his race.

Neither she was accustomed to feeling so foolish, for he knew her without a single word, and the love in his silvery blue eyes was all the same—not to mention the impishness.

“Gisele, twas no jest, nor did I play you false when I swore a vow before all of Ishgard and half of Eorzea to love and cherish you and our dearest paramours unconditionally for all my days,” he said in a grave tone, his eyes piercing into her as they stood alone at the wall. “But, in the event you need reassuring, I shall speak it again: I love you well, my lady wife. And whether you be Elezen or Viera, short or tall, svelte or zaftig, you are a beauty without compare, who sits the throne of my heart with incomparable grace.”

“And you’ve still the soul of a besotted bard, my lovely fool of a knight,” Gisele said, with a light giggle as warmth flooded her cheeks. She sighed with contented relief, and nuzzled his neck with her button nose, noting the passing strangeness of no longer being able to meet his heart with her ear. Mayhap it was the strangest thing about her newfound height.

“Ah, but you stir it in me—among other feelings,” Haurchefant said. She felt his hands drifting down the back of her silken tunic, following her soft curves, slipping down the small of her back to grip her haunches firmly. “Am I wroth, you ask? To the contrary, my love, I think I shall rather enjoy the adventure of exploring this new body of yours!”

“Much more of that and I’ll turn you over my knee,” Gisele said, raising a silvery brow at him even as she grew warmer, her pulse quickening at his touch. That it still had such power to enflame her so was remarkable to her. She wished to gods his hands would drift other places, but she willed her mind out of her skirts long enough to remember.

“Promise?”

“Behave, Haurchefant. At least in public. Amongst people?”

He did so, returning his hands up to chastely rest upon her waist. “Very well, but one can hardly fault a poor and starving man longing for a mere morsel of the Gods’ own ambrosia! How do you set a magnificent feast before him and tell him he cannot have even a single crumb?”

Gisele could not help it; the sight of Haurchefant’s lower lip crookedly jutting out, and his eyes grown wide like those of a lost and mewling kitten was enough to send her into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. “Maker’s breath! Some days I cannot believe I married you, and on purpose,” she said, between fits of chortling onto his mail shirt.

“Aye,” Haurchefant agreed, sagely nodding, with the crooked grin Gisele had so missed, and the sight of it nearly set her to weeping. “But I thank the Fury, daily and profusely, that you lost your wits and did. Now, shall we have this reunion properly, and find the desk in my office—for old times’ sake?”

“Of course,” Gisele said, and kissed him soundly.

#gisele surana #haurchefant greystone #wol x haurchefant #otp: silver dove #ot4: heavensent #5.0 spoilers #FFxivWrite2019 #bisho writes

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