A closes their eyes against the harsh sting of B’s palm slapping their face. They’re hunched over with their hands on their knees. There’s not enough air in the world. Their chest burns from running so fast for so long, it feels as if they’re about to throw up.
B’s hand cups A’s cheek, grabbing the skin on their cheekbone painfully. ‘Get up. Fucking get up A, I swear,’ B yells.
vs
A closes their eyes against the agonising pain of their wound. They keel over, dust parting as they thud onto the ground. It feels as if all they’ve ever known is blinding, burning pain. There’s not enough air in the world. Everything burns.
B skids to A’s side, cupping their cheek softly in their hand. They rub their thumb tenderly over A’s cheekbone. 'Get up. A please get up, I swear,’ B’s voice breaks on the edge of a sob.
The only thing better than hurting a character so badly they faint, is waiting till they recover and enter confrontation (albeit bandaged, braced with a residual limp or stagger) before WHUMPING THEM AGAIN. IN THE SAME SPOT! LEAVING THEM MORE INJURED THEN THEY WERE BEFORE
And it’s not an argument without evidence:
The flash of white bandages around a character’s abdomen that peek out from inside torn clothing and the scarlet blood that blooms through their bandages as a sharp object is brutally stabbed into them. Their weapon clatters onto the ground before they collapse beside it, writhing and screaming in agony.
A character on crutches being pushed down stairs. The nauseating feeling of their injured leg crumpling under them as they fall, unable to do anything. The loud crash at the bottom, followed by heavy silence filled with the feeling of being so broken.
After spending days in bed, restless with intense fever, a character’s fever finally breaks. They start to eat again and move around, slowly regaining their strength. But it’s not fast enough; too soon, the character is forced to traverse an extremely harsh environment on little rest. Eventually, they’re overcome by intense hot and cold flashes and blurring vision as they collapse to the ground, convulsing.
At home, August set Morgan gently on the floor. Their breathing was shallow— almost imperceptible. August’s hands were shaking as he carefully stitched Morgan closed.
He took a deep breath and then bit his wrist open. August let his blood flow into Morgan’s mouth. Morgan choked for a moment and August pulled them up to sit. After a while, the bite mark on Morgan’s neck began to bleed again. August closed the bite and, not long after, Morgan started to wake up, sinking their fangs into August’s wrist, only half-conscious of their actions.
August had to fight to remain alert against Morgan’s venom. He knew Morgan wouldn’t be able to stop themself before they took too much.
“Morgan.” August said after a few minutes. “Morgan, you need to stop for a moment.” Gently, he made Morgan release their bite.
“Please…” Morgan slurred, eyes closed.
“It’s okay, Morgan. You’re going to be fine.” August closed the bite on his wrist and retrieved animal blood from the kitchen. He helped Morgan to drink and Morgan grabbed his arm, desperately thirsty for more.
Eventually, Morgan’s hold loosened. August moved away, drank some himself, and then carried Morgan to their bedroom and laid them down.
As August turned to leave, Morgan reached out and took a weak hold on his shirt. “D-don’t…”
August turned to face Morgan, whose hand fell. “What is it?” He knelt down next to the bed.
“Don’t go… S… stay…” Morgan’s eyes were half-open, unfocused, and bloodshot.
August hesitated. “… I’m here.” No one had wanted him around for thousands of years. He felt torn. He didn’t want to be wanted. He didn’t want to get attached to anyone. And yet somewhere inside, he knew he didn’t want to be alone anymore. Not really.
Morgan grimaced. “H-hurts…”
“I know. I know it hurts, but it’ll get better— I promise.”
“What—” Morgan stopped for a moment to breathe. “What ha-happened..?”
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
Morgan closed their eyes. “I-I remember… Azari attacked me… He… s-said he was going to find… you… then… then I don’t know.” Morgan’s eyes suddenly went wide. “Are you okay?”
“I’m… fine. But you almost died.”
Morgan looked confused.
August sighed. “You remember I told you vampires can only be killed by a wooden stake through the heart?”
Morgan gave a faint nod.
“Azari staked you. He missed your heart by a fraction.”
Morgan tried to sit up, but quickly paled and fell back.
“Don’t try to move. It’s going to hurt for a while. You’ll need to rest heavily for at least the next week and a half— even with advanced healing. A human would have died from your injuries. Do you want me to dull the pain?”
