[ it was the type of sprint that felt too long, never ending even. falco’s grip is on him tight while he keeps his legs tucked and back curved. small as he could. the next loaded round of bullets fling right past them, always at paul’s heels and picking up dust; a second slower and they’d be taken out just as their retreating comrades are. the plunge into the trench is brisk and pitiless— much covered and hitting harsh, trampled spots of dirt below. falco’s breathing had only escalated from the adrenaline, but it was paul he was worried about, heaving and rattling under his hold and until now, a constructed one that would’ve never let him go out there, not even if they tripped.
the helmet is off, they’re safe now, even a small group of three children falco’s age come running to take him in, dump water on his head, ask if he’s drunk— ]
I’m fine, now! [ this man, he was the one who needed attention, stretching his limbs once more to get to the ground and check paul. ] Now, now I got you, please let me check you—
[ medical supplies, he calls for them, and a boy with glasses rushes to retrieve them for falco. their commander— mageth— steps out from the covered safety route of the trench, the “rooms”, and hardly seems to bat a lash at the fact that paul had just returned from the run of his life. he’d like a progress report, and seems even distasteful to be using his spit to ask. as if he were talking to trash.
if paul were to look past the commander, he may not want to waste his voice, either, and use his chance to breathe. the antlers of the soft-glowing mourning stag climb over the trench’s horizon line, and the more it steps over the battlefield as a ghostly observer, the more he’ll know it’s almost time for them to return.
both must return alive. that was the accomplishment of this memory. ]
no subject
the helmet is off, they’re safe now, even a small group of three children falco’s age come running to take him in, dump water on his head, ask if he’s drunk— ]
I’m fine, now! [ this man, he was the one who needed attention, stretching his limbs once more to get to the ground and check paul. ] Now, now I got you, please let me check you—
[ medical supplies, he calls for them, and a boy with glasses rushes to retrieve them for falco. their commander— mageth— steps out from the covered safety route of the trench, the “rooms”, and hardly seems to bat a lash at the fact that paul had just returned from the run of his life. he’d like a progress report, and seems even distasteful to be using his spit to ask. as if he were talking to trash.
if paul were to look past the commander, he may not want to waste his voice, either, and use his chance to breathe. the antlers of the soft-glowing mourning stag climb over the trench’s horizon line, and the more it steps over the battlefield as a ghostly observer, the more he’ll know it’s almost time for them to return.
both must return alive. that was the accomplishment of this memory. ]