12.............. with Corunir?
So you have chosen... Tur-Morva. *evil laughter* wherein the rescue instance goes horribly awry in a canon-compliant way
“Eth… Help me” Ethedis hears a weak but familiar voice behind her, one that she would be overjoyed to hear in any other circumstances and speaking any other words. She was a split moment from sprinting down the tunnel, where she had heard Bregadir frantically calling for a healer mere seconds ago.
Instead, she stops and pivots around to see Corunir collapsed on one knee, breathing heavily and bleeding more so, a deep shadow of crimson growing beneath him. Horror sets in the pit of her stomach.
She stoops to steady him just in time as he falls forward into her arms. “I think… wounds reopened…” he mutters faintly as Ethedis struggles to reposition him to asses his injury.
“Corunir…?” No response “…Corunir!” She calls frantically, still to no avail. He’s fading fast. She fights to bury the panic welling up in her heart. She has to stay calm if she is to have any hope of saving him. She prays someone else heard Bregadir’s call for a healer, she cannot help both of them.
There is a long cut on his stomach, that seems to be the primary source of the blood. The wound is not fresh, seeming days old yet healing very poorly. No doubt an injury sustained during the Grey Company’s capture and left to fester after he was thrown into that dark cell, just beyond the reach of his kin. It seems to have reopened in the battle. His strength has already been long spent, and this rapid loss of blood would be enough to push him over the edge. His face is pale and his breath slows with each moment, he is minutes away from death.
She puts her hand to the wound, applying as much pressure as she can in her already weakened state. “Please… just hang on. Just a little longer…” she pleads, blinking away tears. He cannot hear her.
She takes a deep breath and turns her mind outwards, beyond herself and this small corridor. She does not know how deep below the earth they are, but deep enough that she cannot hear the slumbering trees or even reach their roots, but she doubts they would be willing to lend her their power anyway, not while it’s still winter. She keeps searching. She finds some moss, it wants to help, but it is too small for this task.
After a search that, in reality, barely lasted a moment yet it felt like hours, she finally finds something. An underground river, flowing swift and strong beneath the earth, unaffected and uncaring of all else, yet holding great power. She begs the dark cold waters for aid, to lend her its strength and grant this dying man in her arms new life.
‘Please. Please just buy him a little more time. Let me save him. It isn’t his time yet. Not here. Please.’
There is nothing. The river has no reason to care. She fears it will give her nothing.
Nothing, and then the sound of rushing water thundering in Ethedis’ ears alone, the shock of cold water in her veins, and an unfamiliar power flowing through her hands. Flowing like a torrent of water too powerful for her to tread in such a weakened state, yet tread it she must.
She sends it into Corunir’s near-lifeless body. Close the wound, stop the bleeding, give him the strength to survive.
There is water now, but not from the river, it flows from Ethedis’ eyes. Her hands tremble and her arms burn as though she has been swimming against the current of an ocean. Acting as a conduit of power such as this would test her limits even on a good day, and this was anything but ‘a good day’.
She cannot do this. She cannot hold onto this river. Corunir is still bleeding. If she stops now it will not be enough to save him, but she cannot hold on. More water escapes her eyes, a sob from her throat.
Suddenly she feels another set of hands atop her own, calloused, worn, and strong. A familiar voice beside her, it belongs to Golodir.
“Easy, Ethedis, easy. You’re doing well. It will be alright.” If he is afraid, his voice will not betray it, and that is all the better for Ethedis.
With the practiced confidence only an experienced captain could possess, he manages to steady her. She can hold on a little longer, she is not fighting alone, Golodir found them. He says it’s going to be ok, and she believes him.
She keeps it up just long enough, but not a moment more. She cracks open one eye and sees Corunir's bleeding has finally slowed, if not stopped altogether. Some color has returned to his face as well. She thinks it is safe to stop now. She looks over to Golodir and sees worry in his eyes, but no fear. He simply nods at her, she thinks she hears him say something, but she cannot make out the words. She lets go and collapses. She thinks Golodir caught her, but her body is numb with cold and she can’t feel much of anything. He calls out to her, but she lacks the strength to respond and consciousness quickly abandons her. Corunir is alright at least. Golodir found them, everything will be alright.
(Yaaay Golodad to the rescue! there was meant to be another part to this, where Corunir comes to later and actually has the chance to talk to Ethedis, but it wasn't coming together fast enough so I'll probably just add that part *gestures vaguely* "later". I DO like what I had so far, but it was my first time actually properly writing dialog between those two and I wanted to make sure I did a good job, ya can't rush it. you'll see it later.)
17 notes
·
View notes
I'm still thinking about that scene in Victoriocity S3E7 where Fleet runs back towards the Beast so as to lure it into the path of the train...
Clara's exclamation of 'Teamwork, Fleet!' after Fleet says he's got a plan reflects her conviction that any plan that Fleet has will be a shared plan, something they do together.
This conviction is a kind of trust, and that trust is part of the reason Clara takes a moment to realise Fleet has headed back towards the Beast. She trusts that he's following behind her. She keeps talking to him, her words full of optimism.
When she realises Fleet isn't there, she immediately realises what that must mean he's done, and her voice sounds more small and scared than I think we've ever heard it before.
Fleet's attempt at self-sacrifice is a kind of betrayal of Clara's trust, but when he echoes her celebration of their teamwork in a more somber tone, I think it suggests that he understands the weight of that betrayal.
If Fleet's plan is that Clara won't realise he's gone until it's already too late, then he thinks "Teamwork, Clara" will be the last words he'll ever speak to her. In what he imagines will be their final conversation, Fleet affirms Clara's understanding of them as a team who work well together, even as he is making a choice that rejects the possibility of their teamwork in this scenario. It's a recognition of what their dynamic has meant. It's a goodbye and an apology, even if Clara doesn't understand it as such at first.
I don't think Fleet sounds scared as he initially faces down the train. When he shouts "Yeah, this way, you stupid machine! Come on then!", he sounds defiant and grimly determined.
In fact, I don't think he sounds afraid until Clara appears, until she might be at risk of being in the path of the Beast or the train as well. It's when he shouts "Clara, stay back for God's sake!" and "Please, get back!" that there's real fear and desperation in his voice. He can confront the idea of giving his own life, but not the idea that doing so might put Clara in danger.
Another thing about these lines is that the move from 'stay back' to 'get back' suggests that Clara didn't obey his first instruction but got closer to him (and therefore to the path of the Beast and the train) between those two lines.
Then Fleet gives what might be another attempt at his last words: "I'm sorry! I'm sorry." A repeated apology before an attempted self-sacrifice is an implicit acknowledgement of how much losing him would hurt Clara. He regrets causing her pain.
Even so, he's accepted that he is about to die and that it'd be worth it to destroy the Beast. But Clara very much hasn't accepted either those things. She's still trying to yell over the noise of the train; she's pulling off her ring to throw at him.
I think it's a good illustration of how Clara's optimism is a kind of strength. She always believes that they can "make a new plan" and that it'll be one in which no one has to die. I think Archibald Fleet needs someone like that, someone who'll tell him to drop to the ground when his death advances from both sides, someone who - even in a dark tunnel with an murderous metal monster and a speeding train - won't stop shouting that there's hope.
21 notes
·
View notes