benjy fenwick, terrible idea. (curaga) wrote in cultureic, @ 2016-05-22 17:46:00 |
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Gideon’s tolerance for pain was nothing to sneeze at, but even he was having trouble handling the amount of pain he was feeling at this particular moment. He was trying to hold it together, writing properly and carefully to the other Order members in his journal, but once Benjy had warded him, he’d abandoned the capitals and carefully written letters, just scrawling what he needed to say in the fewest amount of words possibly. He was still feeling the after-effects of the Crucio in his body, but it was combined with a sharp pain in his chest, and seemed to radiate out in waves from the slashes that were still bleeding. Gideon wanted to take the bloody t-shirt off, but he couldn’t even risk moving his arms to do so (and it hurt too much anyways), so he left it on, grabbing a pillow from the couch to try and sop up some of the blood. His breathing felt a little funny, and for a second he thought he was going to pass out, but he leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes, and the feeling passed. Not moving until Benjy arrived seemed like the smarted idea at the moment. Fortunately, Gideon didn’t have to wait much longer: his yearmate materialized in his living room with a loud crack, a bag of medical supplies slung over his shoulder. Gideon had rated his injuries a “five, maybe a six,” but Benjy suspected he was underselling them. After two years with the Order, he’d learned that it was a recurring theme with vigilantes. Benjy’s eyes fell on Gideon, giving him a critical once-over as he crossed over to the couch in quick, purposeful strides. “Jesus, Gid,” he said, shrugging the bag off his shoulder. The Healer let it drop to the floor as he raised his wand, vanishing the blood-soaked shirt with a flick of his wand. “I hope you weren’t partial to that.” “Nope, especially not now,” Gideon replied, opening his eyes but staying in the same position. “Thanks for coming so quickly. Don’t know how much longer I could’ve held out.” And coming from Gideon, that was saying something. “I think the slashes on the chest are the big problem,” Gideon continued. “Blood loss, and it might have nicked some organs or something. Got Crucioed too, but that seems to be wearing off.” “The slashes are definitely the big problem,” Benjy murmured in agreement, inclining his head slightly as he studied the lacerations stretching across Gideon’s chest. He’d need to do a triage spell to double-check for internal bleeding, but the cuts were deep. Glancing up at Gideon, he flashed him a tight smile. “Death Eaters do love their slashing curses, don’t they?” He then pointed his wand at Gideon’s torso, casting a non-verbal blood slowing spell to deal with the worst of the problems. A soft, yellow stream of light connected with the Hitwizard’s wounds. “Right, so,” Benjy continued, “I’m going to stop the bleeding, make sure they didn’t nick any organs, then stitch you up. After that, I’ll give you potions for blood loss and pain.” “Yeah, fuck their slashing curses,” Gideon murmured, closing his eyes again as Benjy did his thing. “Fuck their everything, really.” “Will two days rest be enough?” he asked, after a brief pause. “I’ve got two more days off, don’t think I can really take more without raising suspicions.” Which he really didn’t need right now, considering what had just happened. “Two days is enough,” Benjy confirmed, somewhat distracted as he checked to make certain the wounds had stopped bleeding. His wand vibrated as the last of the yellow light died out, and he tilted his head as his eyes swept up to Gideon’s face, his brows knit in concern. “What the fuck happened, mate?” The words were punctuated with a murmured Decerivulnus: a colorful gridwork of light began weaving its way around Gideon’s body, and the soft, flickering lights from the triage spell cast an eerie glow around the room. “Heard something on the bug I was monitoring - something about kidnapping that MacDonald girl again. I didn't have much time to warn anyone - just had to act. Obviously it didn't turn out all that well for me.” Gideon paused a moment. His voice was steady when he spoke again, but there was a strained look on his face. “One of them saw me - cast a spell on my glamour.” He didn't want to think about the ramifications of that just this second, but it couldn't be avoided and the longer he waited the worse it would be. Benjy went still. Then he closed his eyes, his jaw tightening. His exhale was heavy as he asked, “They recognized you?” “Can’t tell for sure,” Gideon admitted. “But it's not like it would be hard to track me down, even if they didn't.” Being a six-foot tall ginger definitely made him stand out sometimes. “Shit, I'm going to have to move,” Gideon groaned, as if this was the worst thing about being outed to the Death Eaters. “Well,” Benjy said slowly, his mouth twisting into a rueful smile, “real estate’s real cheap in Tinworth right now, for the record.” There was more he wanted to say — more he should say, really, than a dumb joke — but all he could manage for the moment was a worried stare. A few Order members were all but confirmed to the Death Eaters, but, as far as Benjy knew, none of them had ever had their identities revealed like this. His throat knotted as he considered what this would mean for Gideon. A life on the run? Shaking the thought from his head, the Healer reached down to give Gideon’s forearm a reassuring squeeze. “I’ve more good news: there’s no internal bleeding.” He waved his wand toward the web of light surrounding Gideon’s torso — there was no ominous red. “So let’s get you stitched up, then, you know, we can figure out if you need to go hide out some place warm and tropical for a while.” “Well, that’s something,” Gideon said. Despite the frustration he felt right now, he certainly was happy that he was going to live to fight another day. And he would fight, that much he knew. “Thank you,” he added, knowing it probably didn’t need to be said, but he wanted to all the same. “For everything.” “No worries,” Benjy said quietly, dark eyes flashing up to focus briefly on Gideon’s face before he returned to studying his friend’s wounds. He opened his mouth to tell say, everything’ll be all right, but stamped down on the impulse. He couldn’t predict the future, and he didn’t want to lie. Instead, he forced himself to laugh. “Look on the bright side — you lie low in like, Croatia for a bit? You’ll end up with a nice tan and some hot locals in your bed.” |