His thoughts were sometimes worse than he could ever imagine. He could attempt to fight them but it left him to a struggle that forced him to lose the air that his lungs needed so much. It threw him into anxiety, into fear… The nightmare of last night had thrown him over the edge, clutching ever so tightly to the pillow for comfort.
Eyes were puffy from the tears, body tense as it was curled up into a ball. He didn’t care for hearing the soft knock, didn’t care to budge at the soft voice that escaped into the air. He didn’t hear the other’s question but he had muttered the same phrase over and over again like a broken record.
“I don’t want to live anymore. “
The words were whispered, mumbled to the pillow that covered his splotchy face. Teeth bit against his tongue, hard against the soft tissue… “This world is already HELL so th-the after life can’t be as bad…”
what is one to say? emil’s thoughts ran wild, the hesitation in his figure to even enter the room showed his wish to avoid such a scene. yet, with a swallow and a slow breath, released from an anxious stomach, he moved closer. weight spreading out upon the bed, his hand resting gingerly against the other’s shoulder.
“ shhh… ” his words are quiet, soothing. “ you don’t m-mean that. Think of everyone you’ve encountered … everyone wh-who cares about you, that looks up to you. do you really want to leave them behind? ” hands are gentle, moving to press warm palms, massaging the other’s shoulder gently.
he’s the careful type. he does not like conflict between two opposing factions, yet he is used to it. there is a difference to such a thing, and accepting it as ‘the only way’. the pain of living … the ripping of one’s stomach to simply be alive was something he was very much used to. one he would never wish upon another living being.
“ conner, can you hear me? ”
shifting forward, emil’s hands moved to gently roll the other a bit forward. strength of a thousand year old summon spirit doing it quite easily, yet he would not admit to the ‘ease’. “ conner mundy, sniper of the red team, do you hear me? Is this what y-you really want? To give up on everyone who cares for you? To l-leave them behind? ” because emil could not help him if that was what he truly wanted.
though emil had the sinking suspicion that truly was not what he wished.
He didn’t think the state’s name was too hard to pronounce, even though he did have a bit of luck on his side with Soldier repeating the fifty states on the top of his lungs at four in the morning. There was a bit of a chuckle before it was suddenly stopped. The ‘ far away from home ‘ part had caught his attention. He went to go speak, to ask another question or so before he was stopped in his tracks by the younger looking male coming closer.
When the other reached for his side - bag, there was a bit of tension. Anything could be hidden within it, from poison to anything needle related – but his fears seemed to be confused, eye-brow raised as the other’s stuttered question was heard. There was a bit of a hiss when the wrapping was pulled off gingerly ( it was due to his own fault, of course, accidentally slipping the material against the open wound when he meant to take it directly off without much friction.
The wound, while it was by a bullet, had taken only a bit off of the ear, forcing it to bleed to clot. He was confused as to what the other was thinking about doing, watching as he sat next to him, looking at those oddly bright eyes. How could someone so innocent and glowing with personality be okay with what they had just seen? There was a battlefield right outside the doors so why wasn’t he… a panicking mess?
He was given a name to finally use instead of ‘ kid ‘, a soft sigh slipping through his lips. “Eh, it’s usually Mundy – that’s what they now me by but I guess I can let ya’ call me Connor.”
His voice seemed a bit more quiet, as if he was scared someone would over - hear. There was always the chance that he would be attacked for saying his actual name ( he was an assassin after all ) so he could always be a bit more careful. “We gotta figure out how ya’ got here, mate… You’re outta your land and while we gotta’ a wizard here that could’a caused the mix up, ‘m pretty sure we won’t be able to get an answer out of the quack.”
“Mundy…Conner Mundy?” Emil queried, before smiling again, “Sounds like a good name.” The other slowly relaxed his hands, pulling out a small, round thing, just about to hold in the palm of his hand. He was rather okay with this situation. He had to deal with crazier back home, though he would worry about Orion. He hoped the pup would actually keep his snout out of trouble. Lifting green eyes, the tone of ‘wizard’ and Emil’s eyes seemed to darken.
Wizards, he was not familiar with the term. Though, he was quick to pull a little giggle out of his lips, “A-ah…well … I w-wouldn’t worry too much about that.” His eyes lowered, sliding the gel between his fingers, “I’m … already v-very much used to this sort of thing.” It took restraint not to say humans fighting. “Anyway, here!” He moved, placing the gel into the other’s hand, head ducked into his scarf. “I-it’s called an apple gel. You eat it … it should help heal the tissue on your ear.”
Perhaps he would explain later what place he came from. Now, he would keep quiet, as it appeared the rules were very much different. They fired magic items with metallic pieces in them, or, didn’t have magic … Emil was uncertain which frightened him more. Green eyes lift once more, giving a weak smile. “I know it’s g-going to sound stupid … but please?”
Moving, he unbuckled the strap around his front, pulling the supplies forward, unhooking the scabbard of his sword and resting it at his feet, opening it up in plain view for the other to see. “H-here, look. I’ve got a lot of them. I’ll even try one.” Taking one from the bag, he showed it to the other before popping it into his mouth, and swallowed. “See?” Along with the gels, there were a variety of other items in there. From weaponry ( a few other swords seemed to be cradled in the others small bag ) as well as bottles, more gels, and other such items.
“I get this happening t-to me a lot … going to different places, th-things that seem unbelievable, people that are b-both really nice and not … “ His gaze lowered, “If your … wizard was the cause to this,” his voice had changed, ever so lightly. Deeper, the flickering in his gaze, green hues sparking with an eerie bloody color, “then there’s a re-reason for me being here.” He smiled, “I’m a l-lot more sturdy than people give me c-credit for, Connor.”
Death did not frighten him, for it was a human concept. Truth being he could be ‘killed’, but it would take a lot of extra steps for it to happen to him in the way the other thought. “These are a bit of h-how. Though they’re k-kind’ve sweet, like candy!”
The man was careful as he continued to navigate, giving a grumble at the loud crack of the bat. Well a certain Scout was having fun at least, especially as the Boston accent seemed to slip into the air. The whole team was occupied and now he was just trying to usher this kid somewhere safe.
He heard a bullet slip right past his ear, nicking it in the slightest but it was enough to make it ring. That moment he pushed the other towards the ground a bit more, taking his rifle and shooting at the other team’s sniper before going back to his current duty. He could deal with the ringing, bleeding ear later as they were in the safe range and in the base.
Mundy heard the question but hadn’t taken the time to answer it yet. While the base was “safe” and the sentry had seem recognize that the child-looking other was not an enemy, there still could be that one enemy that always liked to backstab people at the worst of times. He shifted in footing, beginning to jog a bit more in the open area, more so listening and looking for blood trails – a good sign when he saw none.
Giving a sigh, he opened the door to their locker room and sat on one of the benches, letting the other decide what he wanted to do. That sword could give him a bit of a problem but, he begun to think that the boy’s hand wasn’t on there because of him. With the silence finally kicking in, the man rested elbows on his knees, hunching over and glancing up to him with a frown. “Ya’ really are clueless then?” He rose an eyebrow, sitting up slightly. “It ain’t like ya’ could just poof onto the battlefield– Never mind.”
He would have to ask a certain Soldier about Merasmus later.
“Yer in Teufort, New Mexico, kid.” Carefully, he took off his glasses, feeling the sting of the bullet wound on his right ear. That BLU sniper was going to get a Bushwacka up his ass the next time he saw him. Grunting with the pain, he found some cloth, putting it against the wound and looked back over. “Guessin’ by yer get up… Yer not from around here.”
Emil followed quietly afterwards. A bit of his bottom lip coming out in a pout at the non-answer he was given. The loud noise and feeling of a hand on his head pushing him down to the ground caused a soft grunt of displeasure, an eye glancing upwards to the man who was now turning and shooting at a ( window? ) space before ushering him along further. Through opened doors, passed a big … electronic tube that appeared similar to the ones each of the people carried around with them and into a back room. Bunches and rows of metallic rectangles lined the walls, Emil taking note of all of them, head turning around in a more … wide-eyed amazement to anything else.
He hadn’t ever seen anything like these before. Coming closer to a wall, he pressed his fingers against the cool surface with interest before the man’s voice returned got his attention. Head snapping towards him, his fingers tightened upon the sword before slowly, it slipped off. “Ah…w-well…” He was going to answer that, but let it drop just as easily.
“…N-new Mecksi-what?”
Emil had never heard of such a place. Nor, did he know exactly what the guy was talking about. Some part of him said that ‘humans would be humans’ and to leave it alone, but was quickly pushed out of his mind. He didn’t need to think about that, for now. “Uhn! I … I think I’m a very long way from h-home…” His eyes scanned around the room before going to the cloth he’d placed on his ear. “Are you hurt?” Oh no … it had been because of him.
That earlier shot, the one where he had returned and used that compact ( canon? emil was still unsure on this subject ) weapon back. Moving forward gingerly, his hand reached back to a small compact pouch. “Could I s-see?” He gave a nervous smile. If it was a basic enough wound, the apple gels he typically carried around on him should suffice. Stitching up minor cuts and scrapes was what it was good for. Which reminded him.
… nah, he could deal with his own afterwards.
The small shot that had grazed his cheek, he rubbed at it with the back of his gloved hand, moving instead to sit next to the man. His eyes were blue, brown, slightly messy hair ( from this angle ) and a short scar along his cheek … the man was a strange sort, but, Emil owed him a little ( for helping him out of the … battlefield, he’d called it … but most battles he knew were fought with up-front weapons, swords, shields, magic at best from a distance! ) and he didn’t appear all that bad.
“My name’s Emil, by the way.” He offered hopefully. He didn’t usually judge others by their looks, and now wouldn’t truly be an exception. “Emil Castignier.” He wasn’t exactly the best with wounds or the like, but he could bandage people up, or offer the small candy-like gel so that other’s wouldn’t have to worry about their wounds for all too long.
Being perched up above the battle field had its perks but today he was out with his SMG, snagging an enemy scout and continuing to walk around as quiet as he could. Something seemed off by his teams calls though – mentioning an odd child on the battlefield. He snatched his riffle from his back, setting in his grip and letting the barrel slip against the wall and letting a shot ring, hitting a soldier before he heard a voice.
A spy? No, that fancy wuss wouldn’t sound so young…
He took the risk, letting eyes glance to what was on the other side of the wall to be absolutely confused for a moment. His team wasn’t kidding. When one of his came rushing around the corner, he grasped them, looking to them, saying something in a matter of a whisper before they were sent off and he begun to do his work.
Once again pulling the submachine gun out, standing in front of the kid, he motioned to run to the right, wordless as he continued to listen for anything behind them. It was a safer spot but any of those damn BLUs could be on their way here to capture their point. “Get goin’ kid, ya’ ain’t got all day unless ya’ want to die.”
That cold voice that escaped him annoyed his very core, grasping onto the younger looking and beginning to tug him along, keeping near cover as he kept his hand on the trigger, ready to fire at any one else who dare come his way. “Why the bloody ‘ell are ya’ even out here kid– this is a war zone.” He grumbled, freezing as he looked directly to the kid. Odd clothing for sure. Not from Russia, Ireland or Australian and like hell from America so… Where could this kid have come from?
Mind was over working before he shook it from thought. “Just keep yer head down low and keep quiet. We’re almost outta’ range.”
Artillery shells rained like hell on the field, Emil’s fingers finding his ears to silence the sharp ringing cacophony of noises. Pinging, panging, sharp noises that were almost like successive pelting rocks against the metallic surfaces he hid behind, ( or, for that matter, any of the people who passed him, )languages[ dialects ] spitting past lips, code-words making contact into speakers on their shoulders, fronts, somewhere to give a response to someone. Emil was able to discern teamwork between the players, large and bulky pushed out in front, a man behind ( why were they mispronouncing medicine every once in a while? ) careful to provide aide appropriately.
Emil watched all of this. Trying, ( with careful movements ) to move around, and he did for the most part. He avoided fire from their weaponry ( except once, a long, thin line of blood dripping down his cheek from when he had glanced up one too many times ) when a person caught his attention. Voice dripping thick with another of those accents he’d heard plenty of around, his eyes blinked. A bit … disoriented from all of what he was taking in.
It had been in the Guinnungigap that this had happened. He’d activated it, due to his own thought process ( Ratatosk would be in charge of any strange happenings there, after all ) and tried figuring out what was wrong, when he had been taken … well, here.
At first he’d been rather dizzy, but certain things
don’t wait for you to get back on your feet.
Staring at the man in strange attire, he dully recognized the term kid. His face flushed, the vibrant shade of red something rather entertaining in retrospect. The cold tone was not registered, instead he glanced back once more, looking over and then back at the man, eyeing his weapon. Unfortunately, that didn’t quite seem to cut it. A hand wrapped around his wrist and he was pulled along. Being scolded for coming out here when he hadn’t even meant to!
Part of him wanted to point that out, apologize, say he didn’t know what he was walking into, but then he was told to just keep silent. So he nodded appropriately. Silent, Emil could do. Being quiet was a lot easier than talking, anyway. His fingers moved, once again lingering idly on his own weapon of choice, the longsword at his back ready for whatever ( if they came to close ) to take.
“Uhm…I know you s-said to be quiet, b-but…” Emil’s voice mumbled, eyes glancing backwards. “…where am I?”
There’s a pause, Emil’s hand pressed smoothly against the sword at his hip, back against the wall. Between the two … what would one even call it? Teams? He wasn’t sure, but … Apparently, he shouldn’t have worn blue to the red-zone.
Eyes glittered in the darkness, watching people rush from the wall, slowly leaning out, eyes catching onto the glint of something metallic a few feet above him and— “Shit!” Emil ducked back again into hiding. Avoiding any shot that could be heard.
