RP: It's my birthday and I'll cry if I want to Date: 19 April 2006 Characters: Miles, Daphne, Orla Quirke (NPC) Location: Field Hospital, Upper Slaughter Private/Public: Private Rating: PG Warnings: guts and gore. Summary: Miles is recovering in the field hospital where, fortunately, he is reunited with his wife. Again, another broom is a casualty of war.
Miles didn't remember how he got there, but as he looked up, he saw a ceiling that looked familiar, and a smell he would rather forget. Turning to his right, he saw Guilian Montague in the next bed looking pale and uncomfortable. Just once Miles wanted to end a battle on two feet, and not in the damn field hospital. He also would have liked a birthday without any drama. Was that ever possible?
But when he looked down, he saw blood and what looked like a broomstick poking out of his thigh. And there was more blood. A lot of it. He freaked out a little at the sight, but was feeling a little woozy and light headed. It was then that he screamed in pain as he tried to move the leg, and white heat radiated up his spine.
He almost passed out from the pain, but when he looked up he thought he saw an angel. He was about to ask if she was, when he realised it was Daphne. He'd been worried sick about her as he'd fought to keep the fliers away from town, but she was here, and in one piece. That was a relief. He clutched her hand as if it was for dear life.
He tried to smile, but his face scrunched up as he swore loudly from the pain, almost crushing her hand. "Please tell me that's a broomstick that's sticking out of my leg and not what I think it is." Bones were not meant to be sticking out like that, and certainly not his damn leg bones.