Spirit Animals Oneshots

Blurs and Hallucinations

Tw: A lot of injury description. Just be aware that you're reading angsty shitttt.

Edited on Apr 21st

< Rollan >

My entire body aches.

With every breath, I feel a little more of my energy slipping away. My line of sight is a thin and narrow straw, every sound far too loud and faces blurring. My head throbs, an endless hammer drawn to my skull and shattering through the thick bone.

I'm buried in the dirt, trapped in the battlefield debris that suffocates me, packed into an earth-provided casket. Every attempt to move causes more dirt to spill into my mouth, and I choke on the vile taste. But the movement only results in a deeper buildup around me, no matter how violently I thrash in the night. Gravity restricts me from truly fighting back- I can only release a sluggish attempt at a scream.

When I'm lifted from my grave, I feel the blood trickling from what seems to be my entirety. I am incapacitated, unable to do anything, paralysis whispering me into submission and offering an escape from my pain. I'm to the point of simply accepting the call, the broken parts of me both mentally and physically weighing me down far too much.

My vision has already been lost long ago, and I uselessly stare into the abyss.

The tormentous throbbing numbs into a distant ache, and I breath in the air. It's respectively humid, cool brushes of wind licking against my face as a hum of bustling feet pass by. I feel more than just pain now, consciously aware of the cloth lining my forehead and chest. I suck in a breath, wincing as I pull open my heavy eyes.

I bunch up the smooth fabric carefully laid across me in my fist, relieved when it isn't grainy or coarse. I no longer feel as though I'm stifled and confined.

There's a silhouette indistinct in the dimly lit room, light brown and white hues one with my surroundings. I blink back a couple times, bringing a shaky hand to my head and stilling the ache. And when the brown and white separate, when the silhouette becomes apparent, all I can do is choke back a sob.

"Tarik?"

"Rollan, thank goodness you're alright." He smiles at me with relieved eyes.

This can't be real. It can't be him. He's-

"Hey hey, easy buddy. You aren't doing so good right now, but you're okay. You're safe." Tarik places a hand on mine, calming my panic with soft words. I need to know I'm not imagining the touch, or I might break.

"Tarik!" I throw myself toward him, ignoring the disdain of my upper half. He quickly secures me as tears spill from my cheeks. He's here, and he's real. I couldn't ask for more than that.

"I didn't know you cared about little old me that much." He jokes, ruffling my hair the way he always had before.

I shake my head a little, voice hoarse. "N- no. You-" You died. I saw you die. But you- how?

"Shh, don't exhaust yourself. You've been in critical for a couple days." Tarik murmurs. Everything is blurring again- not because I'm crying like a baby or anything- and I close my eyes, listening as he breathes, as his heart steadily bumps in his chest. I missed him, so much... I missed everything about Tarik.

The wonder in his eyes especially, as if he were a little child, staring into the sunset with a eye-widened grin splayed across his face. When he saw the beauty in the world every day, and he kept it alive. How he could combat my snark with ease, finding humor in the simple and protecting me during the gruesome. His distaste for lima beans- my favorite of the vegetable family- and it must have held more weight on me than I knew; I refused to touch one ever again after that.