paul atreides (kwisatzhaderac) wrote in saveatlantisic, @ 2019-10-17 22:51:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !log, *hannahgrace, *lessa, callie spinnet, paul atreides |
WHO: Paul Atreides & Callie Spinnet
WHEN: Directly after the Zoo Battle.
WHERE: Atlantis Zoo.
SUMMARY: Callie comes to find Paul after the battle and heal his wound.
WARNINGS: Post-battle stuff. Injury. Lack of fancy HTML because I don't have the patience for it. ;D
Callie knew it was impossible for Paul to stay out of the fighting and, moreover, knew he wouldn’t want to, even if he could. Her rational mind knew that he was an incredibly capable fighter. Still, when she heard that another battle had broken out at the zoo and, after several attempts to contact Paul had failed, even the most defined logic hadn’t been able to keep the rising tide of panic at bay. Trying and failing to get in touch with Alicia only added to her fear. Unable to sit and do nothing, Callie had rushed straight to Medical, where she’d become a familiar face thanks to the freshly-brewed healing potions she’d been dropping off throughout the week, to await news. She knew that the staff there would be among the first to learn of any casualties.
Sure enough, it wasn’t too long before reports started coming in: there were injuries, mostly minor, but at least three people had been injured badly. Callie’s heart rose up to beat uncomfortably in her throat as she eavesdropped. She heard names that she knew, names like ‘Jim Kirk’ and ‘Erik Lehnsherr’. A small gasp escaped her lips and she lifted her hands to shield her mouth as it hung a little way open, fresh waves of worry for her aunt, Paul and all the others washing over her. Alicia had to have been with Erik; it had been Laura who had raised the alarm after all. And where was Paul? There was still no word of Paul.
She stood and, before she could think about it too deeply, turned on the spot and vanished into the air with a loud crack. When she reappeared, she was surrounded by devastation. Atlantis Zoo was barely recognisable for the tranquil and pleasant place it had once been. Enclosures had been destroyed and fences ripped down or buckled. The pock-marks of gunshots peppered walls and signs and rubble littered the floor. Despite the destruction, however, the fighting seemed to be over. She recognised a few of her fellow Atlanteans making their way back towards the city, Medical and their temporary homes. Quickly, she began picking her way through the debris, scanning each tired, dirty and bloodstained face as she searched for Paul or Alicia amongst the survivors.
It was Paul’s second battle that week, but the hairline fracture he had sustained during the housing battles had done nothing to hold him back from jumping into the fray of another. He had been training his whole life for war and once it had come, he had lived the remainder of his life so far engaging in it.
After a couple of months living an idyllic life on Atlantis, training but barely seeing war, he had been surprised by the scale of the attacks happening now. Used to leading, he had to bite his tongue several times to keep himself from making attempts at issuing orders how he would have if he was in command. In the end, they had won, but the devastation was total, the landscape of the zoo reduced to rubble.
He was nursing a wound on his thigh. A bit of sharp, exposed wire from a torn fence had caught him and ripped through his skin, causing a laceration he knew would need stitches. With the fight over, he had sat down to attempt initial first aid on himself, tearing off a strip of cloth from his undershirt and putting pressure on the wound.
“Paul!”
Callie broke into a run when she saw him, weaving her way through the rubble, until she reached where he was sitting. There was blood - a lot of blood - and Callie fell to her knees in front of Paul, trying to assess the damage. It was almost impossible; there was so much dust and dirt. She couldn’t tell where his blood ended and the mud began. She reached out to him, her hands shaking as they covered his on his leg.
“How bad is it?” she asked, casting worried eyes up at his face. Despite the situation, it was indescribably good to see him alive and in all but one piece. She allowed herself a brief moment of gladness before taking a deep, shuddering yet calming breath and reaching for her wand. “Show me.”
There was a lot of blood, not all of it his. The crysknife that he had set down beside him was dripping with enemy blood. On his left thigh, though, that was mostly his. He was about to tear off another strip to bandage himself with when he heard someone calling his name. His head snapped up in the direction of the sound, his body coming to attention, muscles ready to jump into action. When he saw who it was, he felt mixed relief and confusion.
“What are you doing here?” She did not look like she had been in the fighting. Looking down at his leg, he slowly removed his hand. “It will need stitches, but I’ll be fine.” Removing the cloth, he showed her the laceration. “Caught it on some fencing,” he explained.
“I couldn’t just sit and wait any longer,” Callie said, her brow creased in concern. She knew it was reckless of her to have come here, even if she’d been fairly sure the fighting had ended, but she wasn’t sorry she’d found him.
Callie felt her stomach lurch unpleasantly at the sight of the wound but she took a deep breath and tried to steel herself.
“I can fix this,” she told him, her wand poised. She sounded more confident than she felt. She had learnt about healing charms at school but her knowledge was almost entirely theoretical.
Delicately, trying not to hurt him any more than was absolutely necessary, she peeled back some of the tattered clothing that was stuck with blood to his leg.
“Okay,” she murmured, trying to steady her nerves, before she began to chant the incantation, “Vulnera Sanentur.” She repeated the words again, then again, tracing her wand over the wound. At first, nothing much seemed to happen and she started to worry that she was doing something wrong. However, she suddenly noticed that the blood, which had been seeping steadily from the wound without the pressure of Paul’s hand, had stopped. After a moment, before her eyes, the torn flesh started to knit together again until, eventually, the wound was no more than a crooked link of fresh, pink skin. Callie let out a shaky breath and placed her wand down beside Paul’s crysknife, her other hand trembling where it rested on his knee.
Paul knew the feeling. It was difficult to sit still and wait and easier to jump into some kind of action to distract oneself from worry. Sitting still allowed for too much thinking and he liked to reserve that for his meditations.
“That doesn’t surprise me.” It seemed that her wand could fix all manner of things. He had a good enough read on her by now that he realized she wasn’t as confident as she would like to lead him to believe, but he said nothing. Paul trusted her enough. He trusted her more than he trusted anyone on that island.
He sat still and quiet while Callie lifted the wand and began to say a phrase over and over again. At first, he didn’t feel anything. Paul was in tune with every little nerve in his body so when it did begin to work, the bleeding stopping and the feel of his skin knitting back together was very peculiar, accelerated to the point of there being only a slight scar left, not half as ugly as it would have been had he gone to get traditional stitches. He ran his fingers across the place his leg had been throbbing blood mere moments before.
Placing his hand over hers, he offered her a loving smile. “I’m glad you came. There is no face I would rather be seeing right now.”
Callie lifted her chin so she could meet Paul’s warm gaze. Despite the tenseness of the situation, she found herself smiling in response as a wellspring of relief and emotion bubbled up in her. Giving a little sob of laughter, she knelt up and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into an awkward but fierce hug.
“I hate this,” she murmured into the side of his cheek, her eyes pressed shut.
He slid his arms around her in return, tightening his grip just enough to keep her in place against him. She felt warm and alive among the death and carnage of the battle. Paul sighed, pressing his bloodied fingers against her back.
“Me too. I miss the quiet routine of Atlantis.” He knew that he had been put there to fight a war but he could not help but miss the abundance and bliss that he had enjoyed before, especially with Callie. “I never did tell you the litany against fear. Do you want to hear it?”
Callie agreed, with everything in her. She’d known that this day would come - of course she had; they were at war - but she’d let herself become complacent, taking their time together for granted. This battle had served as a stark reminder that Paul could be snatched from her at any moment. She missed the sense of security she’d felt until just a few hours ago.
As he spoke, she pulled back a little way so she could meet his azure eyes. There was something about the deep, deep blue of his eyes that always made her feel like she was falling, away from the real world, away from the war, into a safe space made just for them.
She gave him a little nod of assent, wanting to hear his litany against fear, even though she knew that hers would always be ’Paul’.
Paul looked back into her eyes, the irises and pupils standing out against the white. He had grown used to living among the Fremen. The completely blue eyes had become more normal than eyes unaffected by heavy spice use. In Atlantis, he stuck out like a sore thumb but it was not his eyes that he considered unique, it was everyone else’s. All those colors. He could get lost in them.
“I learned it early on. Another thing I got from the Bene Gesserit. The training can involve danger and pain.” He blinked, using that split second to center himself, take himself away from the battlefield and lingering minor pain.
“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”
The calmness in Paul’s voice resonated through Callie and she used it to slow her own shallow breathing. Her hands fell from his shoulders to find his and she twisted her fingers through his. As was so often the case when Paul spoke about the things he’d learned from the Bene Gesserit, Callie felt like she only half understood the litany but she thought she agreed with the sentiment. She had spent a lifetime suffering with a lot of anxiety but she had learned to deal with her fears and had come through the other side as a stronger person - the sort of person someone like Paul could love.
Taking a deep breath, Callie nodded, then sighed the breath away and moved so she was crouched on the balls of her feet.
“Let’s get out of here,” she said softly, giving Paul’s hand a little squeeze. “I don’t want to be surrounded by death any more.”
Reciting the litany for her made him feel more centered, any last lingering sense of fear evaporating along with his words. It was usually something he said without speaking the words aloud. He hoarded the comfort they brought to him for himself, but he could sense that they were sinking into Callie as well, regardless of whether or not she understood the parts of it that were more spiritual.
“Alright,” he replied quietly. Paul reached for his crysknife, hiding it from sight on his person before standing up, taking her hand and walking with her toward one of the exits of the zoo.