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Author Topic: Just a Flesh Wound [Malcolm/Gunther]  (Read 731 times)

Just a Flesh Wound [Malcolm/Gunther]
« on: November 27, 2019, 11:07:08 PM »
Flying through the air. It was the closest feeling to freedom itself. And Malcolm loved that feeling, the wind in his hair, the rush, and the weightlessness. The thrill of the fight, and eventually, the slice of that sweet spot that made a Titan tumble, it was high that Malcolm enjoyed a bit too much.

And that day, it would bite him back.

It was a simple mission, A supply cache, hidden away and needed to be reconvened. Ever since the fall of Wall Maria, even small caches like that were godsends. It wasn’t that far out, a small team, some horses, and a few carts. No titans had been spotted, it was going to be easy enough. But of course, it was never that easy.

At first, things were all right, they always started out all right. And then a flare. And then, there was a titan. And then there were two. A horse got spooked, a cart tipped over. It was going to be a disaster. There had only been two options left, fight or die. Malcolm was the type of guy to always choose the first option.

The first one came down easy, if fighting for one’s very life was ever an easy thing. Six meters tall and came crashing down like a building. The second was smaller, but it was fast. Malcolm figured the best way to take it down was to simply be faster.

And so, he went stupidly fast. The man knew he didn’t have time to waste. He had yelled at his team to gather the supplies and just get out. He could take it, he had to. Was it really worth risking his life over some supplies? If wasn’t, then why was he counting himself as a member of the Survey Corps? Malcolm saw the monster come his way, all he had to do was time it just right.

He did, for the most part. And maybe he was just being too cocky, but one could never be too careful. All it took was slicing his blades through that nape of the neck, that pretty titan-killin’ sweet spot. Malcolm had done it, sliced it fast and deep. He went crashing to the ground, less than a graceful landing. But the TItan went crashing down too.

His blades had broken, and he saw crimson red.

His blades had broken, broken right into him. He said his fair share of colorful words, finally letting the pain sink in after the adrenaline faded away. He looked to the side… it had his left upper arm, but a nasty gash nonetheless, few inches long, would need stitches. And then, another one, just across his upper right thigh. But no broken bones, and no torn ligaments or things that would take too long to heal. And he made it out with all his limbs intact. Even if everything still hurt.

 Lucky bastard indeed. A quick look over and nothing else was wrong, but there was still a lot of blood.  After a fair bit of yelling by his team, and cries of relief, a rip of clothing to make some kind of tourniquet, Malcolm had dumped himself in the cart along with the supplies. Exhausted.

Malcolm winced, he wasn’t a fan of pain, especially when it hurt a lot. And right now was one of those times.

“Just.. gonna… hang out here, for a while… Just flesh wounds… y’know? Heh… eh… Ouch.”
Logged


Re: Just a Flesh Wound [Malcolm/Gunther]
« Reply #1 on: December 07, 2019, 10:38:23 PM »
Sticking to the rear of the team, those who had been sent out to recover the supplies, Gunther was far behind when the titans attacked. Not that he wished to be; his horse was nervous today, still growing used to him, and his mind was full of wonder. How much would this really give them? Would it last even a day? There were still so many refugees, so many hungry mouths, and each and every had to be satisfied. What were the government doing? Had they thought far enough ahead? There must be a way to save them all. Instead of going for caches, they needed to keep working on reaching Wall Maria. To find a way to repair it, but to do that they would need to set out those points along the way, where refuelling would be more important than settling.

He saw it as it happened. The flare that flew up into the sky, the titan that appeared and was felled, the second that ran across the grass. He leaned low and forward, urging his steed on, whipping the reins in encouragement to get there. To stop anybody from dying. He was of the Special Operations Squad. That gave him a damn lot of responsibility, even if he wasn't with them now.

The titan was already down by the time he caught up. Standing atop the stallion's back, Gunther braced himself before bursting forwards in a jet of air, landing hard on the ground by the fallen cart. It could be fixed. What concerned him the most was the injured soldier huddled between the supplies.

"Back off," he said bluntly to one of the soldiers at the cart's side. The tourniquet wasn't perfect, but it was reasonable enough, if likely to do very little to limit blood flow. "Stay still. I need to take a close look." It took him a moment, searching for the soldier's name, knowing it was on the tip of his tongue. But it didn't entirely matter. Names were better said for dying soldiers. Infection might well lead to it, but it didn't seem like a fatal wound from first glance.

He untied the tourniquet, fingering the edge of torn trouser to rip the seams carefully but quickly, allowing him to keep the fabric from disturbing the open wound. "I need to sterilise the wound first. This may sting." The warning was necessary, if he wanted his patient to remain still. Gunther whistled, calling over his horse, and took from their saddle the bag necessary. He flipped the satchel's flap open, taking out a small flask of distilled water. Its cap unscrewed easily, allowing him to quickly douse a cloth with a splash.

Pressing the cloth to the soldier's thigh wound, he wiped along the line, careful not to tear the skin. As long as he could give it a slight clean, enough to ensure infection would be reduced, the medics back in Wall Rose would be able to stitch it properly. He could only do so much on the battlefield. "Cut his jacket sleeve off," he threw back to one of the soldiers, turning back to the injured. "You'll be fine. We'll avoid infection easily this way. Tell me what happened." To keep him talking, to see if there would be any signs of other symptoms - he likely wasn't losing too much blood, but he'd sooner be prepared for anything.
Logged


Re: Just a Flesh Wound [Malcolm/Gunther]
« Reply #2 on: December 08, 2019, 05:30:52 AM »
Right, medics. Not that Malcolm would have admitted, he was the guy that often saw them a lot more than he should have. He rested his head back on the side of the cart, the hard wood proved to be little comfort to the injured man. But at that point, the silver-haired wonder was too tired to care.

He breathed heavy, his heart still racing from the fight. The makeshift tourniquet was drenched in red, what a fantastic way to start the day.

He still heard voices and yelling, but he didn’t care to figure out what they were saying. They couldn’t stick around for too long, Malcolm knew that. More titans were the danger, and with an injured man, they were sitting ducks. At least, they got what they came for, the supplies, which was already more than half the battle. Fortunately, the only one among them dumb enough to get hurt had been the Watanabe. But, the soldier also knew he was in no shape to try and ride his own horse. Cart it was then…

"Back off,"

He made out the words of the man now getting closest to him. It wasn’t the most pleasant face to look at, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Malcolm’s head was still spinning, he should’ve been grateful for the fact he still had one. Hands were on him, and even Malcolm couldn’t hold in the flinch of pain.

“Heh…! Hey... be gentle with the goods... alright?” He said his words with a tight voice, even as he plastered a smirk on his face. A sharp intake of breath was soon followed by a hard grunt to hold in the pain. Malcolm preferred not to be a screamer if he could help it. Of course, he didn’t have much a choice to retaliate. It was either this or risk infections and potentially, actual lost limbs.

"I need to sterilise the wound first. This may sting."

Malcolm definitely heard the words, but that didn’t mean he actually processed what was happening. “Ah.. Fuu-!” Malcolm strained himself not to yell. He bit down hard on his bottom lip, feeling the sting practically bury itself through his thigh. It was just as he heard another gratuitous comment by the battlefield medic.

"Cut his jacket sleeve off,"

Someone came to him with a knife, ready to tear apart the uniform as ordered. Malcolm had to smile again, feeling the rough treatment practically thrown at him was pretty much what he deserved. “Y’know… I usually… wait til at least… one date, before the… clothes come off.” He didn’t have the breath for laughter, but he still had it in him to make some offhand comments. He was already wincing hard through the pain, it was almost like a wink.

The sleeve was cut off by the seam, but the jacket was already torn enough that it was practically falling off his body. Red dripped down Malcolm’s arm, the gash ugly and jagged, the crimson color only seemed highlighted by the soldier’s naturally pale complexion. Malcolm wasn’t a stranger to injuries, some discolored scars marred a lot of his arms and body. Particularly, one ugly strip that trailed down the same arm. There was a story behind those scars somewhere…

Gunther asked him what had happened. Malcolm let out a weak sigh. “Oh… the usual. Thought I could handle two… turns out I’m really… only built for one.”

Flying too close to the sun, huh? Well, only if he really was a bird, then he’d fly forever.
« Last Edit: December 08, 2019, 05:34:14 AM by Malcolm Watanabe »
Logged


Re: Just a Flesh Wound [Malcolm/Gunther]
« Reply #3 on: January 01, 2020, 09:55:05 PM »
He chose to ignore his poor attempt of a joke, his focus entirely on ensuring that he could save one soldier out here. It mightn't be his focus, but he sure wasn't going to put up with anyone dying needlessly on his watch. Really, he'd much prefer to make the smallest difference while he had the chance. While one of the others tittered at the offhand comment on clothes, his face remained serious, eyes burning as he thought on how best to work next.

Tying the tourniquet as expertly as possible, he checked it was secure and of use before moving on. The sleeve gone, he surveyed the wound briefly before acting. It would need stitches, at least temporarily, to avoid further blood loss and, more importantly, any sort of further rupture. As well as avoiding likelihood of dust or dirt slipping in and setting down the foundations for infection.

"You should act with more caution. One at a time. It's going to sting again." The warning came as he folded the cloth, a little more distilled water dampening it, pressing the clean side to the gash by the bicep. That needed further pressure, but he wanted to make sure it was truly clean. His movements were careful, not wanting to disturb the cut flesh more.

Shouts in the distance of titans didn't make him look up, only waved the sleeve-cutter away. "Deal with it, don't let any get near," he ordered. There was plenty enough to do without having to look up for signs of titans. For now, he was certain that, barring a particularly speedy Abnormal, they were safe. Raising his eyes to the soldier's face, the name slipped into mind. He'd been a recruit with him. Was he tired? Though, granted, their paths hadn't crossed that much. "Malcolm, how aware of your surroundings are you? Can you look out for flares? Don't move your head too much."

If they were lucky, they'd have that much forewarning, but he had to focus on the next step.

"I need you to keep as still as possible. It may hurt, it may not, but whatever you do, do not move your arm. You can't afford to wrench it. Are you ready?" Preparing him was key, as was the collection of thread and needle from the bag, his eyes only briefly leaving Malcolm.
Logged


Re: Just a Flesh Wound [Malcolm/Gunther]
« Reply #4 on: January 10, 2020, 04:19:59 AM »
Huh, not one for jokes? Well, it was hardly the time.

"You should act with more caution. One at a time. It's going to sting again."

Once again, it was a string of words that Malcolm really only had been able to halfway process in their entirety. But he just happened to catch the tail of the medic’s dialogue, which included the words sting and again.

“Gahh!” He really couldn’t hold that one in, sting? It felt the man was sticking hot acid into his wound and then letting it seep into his whole arm. Somehow, he couldn’t recall ever hurting that much before then. It took everything he had not to immediately grab at Gunther himself and stop the man from causing any more stings. “If you call that a sting, I’d hate to know what you’d consider painful.” He tensed, saying his words through gritted teeth. Right now, he had two sources of severe discomfort and only one of them was the actual wounds on his body. Of course, he knew Schultz was only doing his job and he knew that the alternatives of not getting treatment right way would have even more disastrous consequences, but that didn’t mean he had to enjoy it.

Malcolm heard the chorus of concerns too… Distant titans? Well, that was even better. Schultz asked him a question, whether he could watch out for flares even in his condition. It certainly gave him something better to do, than focus the pain. “Ah, c’mon Doc. Don’t want me... to just focus on your handsome... face?” He smirked, chuckling weakly. He raised his head, turning his eyes to the horizon. “Good.. for now.” Cold sweat run down his cheek, his breathing came in labored breaths. The world still didn’t seem to have any appropriate depth to itself. Whenever he did move his head, things moved faster than they should have. The dull, constant aching didn’t seem to be going away any time soon.

And then, he did see the shine of a needle and thread in Gunther’s hands. Malcolm’s free hand reached for something, in the end, he grasped at the familiar green cloth of his Scout’s cape, the green darkened red with blood. Oh, it wasn’t a question of hurting or not, it was going to hurt, Malcolm was not a fan of stitches. And stitches in the middle of a battlefield? Even better. “Alright, Doc… whatever you say. Just… take it slow, if yah don’t… mind.”
« Last Edit: January 10, 2020, 04:22:25 AM by Malcolm Watanabe »
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