Mortis (8-bitRyan, Dawko, DAGames, Razzbowski, Baz fanfiction)

Chapter 2

Ryan woke up to the warmth of the sun on his face, its rays shining through his closed eyelids. He yawned and rubbed his eyes with his palm to protect them from the bright light. As he opened his eyes, he saw an uncanny, strange-looking forest. He had never seen such a thing even close to this. It looked unfamiliar and strange to him.

He gasped, looked around, and was surprised by the distorted colors. The leaves on trees shaded from a soft, light pink to a sorrowful, dark purple. There was very little grass in the area, but where it did grow, it appeared razor-sharp, almost as if it was made from tiny knives. Pieces of glass, ready to pierce the feet of an innocent, unknowing victim. Ryan stood up, examining the place.

He felt dizzy as if the world was spinning. The air felt thick, making it hard to breathe and causing lightheadedness. There weren't many animals—none that he could name. But something was watching him, boring its curious, unforgiving gaze into Ryan's body.

Ryan rushed towards a familiar figure, only to halt a few meters away upon noticing its condition. The body was lying on the 'grass', the tips of the shards were colored dark red, and his clothes were ruffled and torn in some places.
Ryan carefully tried to get close without stepping on the grass but found that he was too far.

"John? John! Can you hear me?" The blond man called out, slightly panicked. He exhaled a deep breath when he heard a pained moan. He cursed himself and attempted to step in between the sharp shards, getting closer to his friend.
He was close enough to see how hurt John was. It seemed that he had also fallen from the sky when they entered. It looked like he bumped his head against a tree, judging by the unusual leaves tangled in his dark brown curls. Luckily, the stump stopped his head and throat from being perforated by glass-like crystals growing from the ground. His lower body wasn't so lucky, as from the shoulders all the way to the feet, small holes through his skin and into his meat could be seen.

Ryn's breath hitched, and he thought about whether it was a good idea to pry him off, but after a few minutes of listening to his friend being in pain, he gritted his teeth and pushed his sleeves up before pushing his arms beneath the smaller man. He clutched his eyes shut as he felt the shards cutting his skin. Sliding in and opening it in sharp, burning pain.

It didn't hurt, per se, but it was very uncomfortable. Like thousands of paper cuts. As if something were opening the surface and the blood pouring out stung.
Tears were threatening to fall from his eyes as the slashes went deeper and deeper. He felt a rush of relief when he finally held John's body in a steady grip. He took a deep breath and pulled straight up toward the sky. He didn't stop, didn't falter, even when it hurt him to listen to John's whimpers and sobs.
He carefully put him on the dry surface, making sure not to hurt his back, arms, or legs any more than they already were. He contemplated what to do and tried to remember what Matthew was telling him about first aid and stab victims. ...Right.

Don't take the weapon out—well, that one was already out. Know the damage. Make sure the wounds aren't infected. Stop the bleeding. Ryan nodded to himself, mumbling under his breath.

He carefully pushed his friend so he was lying on his stomach. He noticed that there was dry blood on the back of his head and panicked. What if John had a concussion? He shook his head; these thoughts weren't helping.

He took off John's hoodie, shirt, and pants and hissed when the smallest piece of glass stuck in the clothes sliced his fingers. He looked at his hands in confusion. How was it so sharp? He didn't even touch it; he didn't put any pressure on it, and it already alerted his nerve endings while puncturing into his muscles.

He was horrified when he looked at John's unclothed body; all of it was covered in paper-cut-like small wounds, although there was no doubt that some of them went deep into the muscle tissue.
He hoped none of these damaged anything important.