Arthur Morgan (worsethanwolves) wrote in spinningcompass, @ 2019-06-04 02:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | !open, john constantine, ~arthur morgan |
Who: Arthur
Where: The park on wheel three
What: Arriving
When: Monday night
Rating: Slight spoilers, naughty language, possible talk of mortality, and horses.
Open: Yes
Status: on going
Arthur felt the rough rock cutting into his back as he landed. He'd thrown himself and Micah off the upper cliff, knowing that it would hurt when the other man grabbed a hold of him to insure the softer landing. He was a rat after all. He was unable to hold back the round of coughing that followed. He tasted the blood that coated his mouth, lined his lips. He expected to get attacked, while he struggled to breathe. He forced breath in and out, it hurt, but he wasn't ready to call it quits. Not until he'd given John a wide enough gap between him, Micah, and him and the Pinkertons. But as he sat up, as he looked around him, he wasn't up on the cliff. He was in the middle of the woods. Had he fallen farther than he meant to fall? He rolled his shoulders, another round of coughing rolled through his chest. Forcing him back on his back again. Alright. Enough being weak. Marston was depending on him. But before he knew it he felt the light moist lipping of a horse against his forehead. This forced his eyes open. It was the Cremello Gold Dutch Warmblood that he'd seen die. "Buell?" His voice wasn't strong. Was he seeing things? The horse's affection had moved down his face. "Alright, alright. Get off." He shoved weakly at the Buell's muzzle before he rolled to his side, and forced himself up. Grabbing ahold of the stallion's mane to help himself stand. After a few harsh breaths he called out. "Micah! You Rat! Where are you?! I'm not dead yet you coward!" Leaning heavily on the horse, he felt bad about it. If he hadn't died before, if he had only needed a moment, it was highly likely that he would be a target if he was standing so close. |