bl_stephen (bl_stephen) wrote in bloodlines_rp, @ 2009-12-15 09:54:00 |
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Entry tags: | cho chang, feb 2003, hestia jones, loc: st. mungo's, stephen cornfoot, type: rp |
Ashes, Ashes
Date & Time: 15 February 2003 | Sometime After Midnight
Post Type: RP
Status: Closed: Complete
Character(s): Stephen Cornfoot, Hestia Jones, Cho Chang
Location: St. Mungo's
Summary: A bad day.
Stephen rolled onto his stomach and coughed. The bitter taste of copper coated his tongue as blood pooled in his mouth. He spit and tried to shove himself up, but one arm wasn't working and he collapsed. He groaned in the darkness. Two thoughts came to mind. Someone blew our cover and Fawcett.
He thanked God when he found his wand pressed beneath his leg. At least it was in one piece. The room was hot and the temperature slowly rose. With one arm, he pushed himself clumsily to his knees and cried out. He gripped his thigh and squeezed his eyes shut before spitting more blood from his mouth. A great gaping wound slashed across his thigh, and although he could not see the blood, he could both feel its sticky presence and he could smell it.
Orange light flickered through a crack across the room seconds before the door exploded inward and flames burst in. Stephen's eyes widened. He stumbled sideways and yelled, "Fawcett!" His voice gurgled in his throat and something wet dripped into his left eye. "Fawcett!" The fire raced toward him, and Stephen closed his eyes and apparated to St. Mungo's.
Stephen found himself lying on the floor staring at the legs of chairs and tables. He groaned and blinked in the blinding hospital light. Pools of red spread out from his body and he wanted to move, but his body was sluggish and heavy. He coughed and blood splattered from his mouth, spraying his hand. He left behind a red hand print when he pushed himself into an awkward sitting position. Somehow he'd managed to apparate to the warded apparition point just outside the hospital's tea room. He wiped his eye, but he still only had vision in his right one.
He tried to stand, but the wound in his thigh was jagged and Stephen could see his muscles were torn. "Help," he said, but his voice was choked, too quiet. He slipped down and his head bounced against the floor. "Help," he said again.