Magnus Chase (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
summerdude) wrote2024-03-24 12:46 pm
summerdude) wrote2024-03-24 12:46 pm
Entry tags:
Well... I've Been Better [closed]
...The glass from the display case hits first. Some of it breaks apart, some of it breaks his skin. A large shard slices his bicep open; twitching away from it leaves his side vulnerable again to the sword.
It's weird. Magnus has gotten so used to not being hurt. For a single, strange moment, he finds himself relieved that he and Galahad cut off his toe a few weeks ago -- at least he still remembers just how bad pain can be. It's less the sword cutting through his flank, and more that the sword pins him to the ground in a way that would, frankly, be extremely difficult to get himself free from by himself.
For five bright, shining moments, all he knows is pain. It's different from the fire of actual fire burning his guts out, but it's just as sharp, just as eviscerating. He tries his best not to move and make it worse, but reaching for his healing abilities -- always harder for himself than others -- feels even more impossible. Something about the dark of the depths of winter, or whatever it was he'd heard people talking about the other day.
How fucking stupid, he thinks, as the weird hallway melts back into the now-familiar ambiance of the Mansion. The glass doesn't disappear, though, and neither does the sword pinning him to the ground. The world at the edges of his vision is going dark, hazy. Is that Ginnungagap? Alex just got here, and now I'm leaving her. He hopes she manages to find a way to settle in even without him.
Distantly, he can hear footsteps approach.
It's weird. Magnus has gotten so used to not being hurt. For a single, strange moment, he finds himself relieved that he and Galahad cut off his toe a few weeks ago -- at least he still remembers just how bad pain can be. It's less the sword cutting through his flank, and more that the sword pins him to the ground in a way that would, frankly, be extremely difficult to get himself free from by himself.
For five bright, shining moments, all he knows is pain. It's different from the fire of actual fire burning his guts out, but it's just as sharp, just as eviscerating. He tries his best not to move and make it worse, but reaching for his healing abilities -- always harder for himself than others -- feels even more impossible. Something about the dark of the depths of winter, or whatever it was he'd heard people talking about the other day.
How fucking stupid, he thinks, as the weird hallway melts back into the now-familiar ambiance of the Mansion. The glass doesn't disappear, though, and neither does the sword pinning him to the ground. The world at the edges of his vision is going dark, hazy. Is that Ginnungagap? Alex just got here, and now I'm leaving her. He hopes she manages to find a way to settle in even without him.
Distantly, he can hear footsteps approach.