Spirit Animals Oneshots

I've Got You, Brother

I've felt like some of the other one-shots have been lacking, but I hope you like it :)

TW: Mentions of blood, description of injury, fear/panic attack, swearing.

< Conor >

I fall to the ground, sucking in a pained breath, and look down. The long dagger once held in my enemy's hands is now lodged into my leg. Holy sh- sheep.

I don't move out of fear that it will shift, or make the situation worse.

The pain was manageable, though the adrenaline probably concealed the blunt end of it. When you have thousands of people who want to murder you five feet from where you are, well... everything else bleeds away.

Speaking of blood, which was now staining through and slowly dripping down my thigh- I've never been a fan. I can't see most of it as it's hidden underneath the fabric, but feeling it and seeing blood on my finger tips, it's too real.

I squeeze my eyes shut, the sight enough to make me light-headed, and I try to steady the agonizing hammer in my chest. I'm going to die from a stab wound in the leg. What a lousy way to go out.

Rollan seems to blur in and out as he kneels in front of me, worry in his eyes. "Focus, buddy. Focus on me. Are you okay?" I shake my head and swallow a lump in my throat I didn't realize was there.

If I hadn't been so panicked, I might've even laughed at how stupid that question is. Of course I'm not okay- there's a weapon in my thigh.

"We'll get this dagger out, okay? You don't have to worry." He places a comforting hand on my shoulder, and I can't find the words to express how thankful I am to feel the touch. Anything to show he cares, even if he fakes the gesture, is enough.

It's been too long since someone's held onto me. I raise a shaky hand and pull Rollan into a hug from the side. He freezes. "I d- don't want t.." die. I think. I don't want to die.

Rollan, still somewhat tense, slowly reciprocates the hug. For a moment I can't figure out whether or not he has a hard time hugging people or whether it's just because he hates me... Not that I care if it's the last or anything.

"I'm not gonna let that happen. But you can't walk around with a dagger in your thigh, dude." He sighs. I pull away, looking him dead in the eye.

There's a determination that scares me, my panic clouding all logic and despite my body requiring the literal weapon to be out of me, I can't help but want it to stay. That way, I won't have to see the horrific scarlett.

I place my hands against the ground to steady my tremors, glancing at my fingertips once more and immediately regretting it. It feels like I might puke, honestly, and I'm struggling to breathe. It's- it's coming out of me. Mulop, have mercy on my soul!!

"Don't look down, Conor. Look up. Okay? Keep your eyes trained on me." Rollan whispers, squeezing my shoulder and offering me a stick. (A/N - DUDE I just realized how weird this is without context. It's really cute though, he just hands him a freaking stick lol) I hesitantly grab it, clenching the stick between my teeth, and preparing for the worst.

"Are you ready?" There's an empathetic look on my teammates lips. Silent tears burn through my cheeks, and I clench my eyes shut, nodding.

Rollan tightens the makeshift tourniquet above my wound. It causes me to wince, and I do everything I can not to move. He takes a deep breath and positions himself properly, and I'm all too aware that he's hiding his uncertainty- he knows his panic will cause me to panic. I appreciate that.