Indignation is a Fire Emblem Roleplay. It takes place within the Outrealms as worlds collide and kingdoms wage an endless war. However, amongst the quarrels of men do the horrors of the Outrealm reach in to kill and destroy. Fight alone or join forces with other warriors as we create dramatic tales or wage war!
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Bleeding Heart Flowers Raziel and Cas Sometime at Night, Cas' Store
“Ngh!” He gave a sudden grunt as pain erupted from his shoulder. An arrow pierced him and buried deep within his flesh. His hopes of transforming had left him the moment an arrow had gotten lodged in his arm. The man kept running. Running anywhere to get away from this crowd. This was all just a big misunderstanding. If they would only listen to him. If they would only give him a moment to speak his story. Nobody would hear him out. He knew what the people in the town saw. They saw an outsider. A stranger that nobody had ever seen before. They saw a bloody knife in his hands and a dead woman on the ground. But it wasn't him. Now he had been struck. Chased through the town by an angry mob like he was some monster. Damnit!
Raziel turned into an alley way for a moment to catch his breath. He had hoped to have lost them blocks away. His shoulder burned and his breaths were labored. He walked down the alley with his hand on the building for support. There was a door ahead of him. The man thought little of it at first, but as he passed it, as his hand brushed against it, it creaked open ever so quietly. Raziel's heart beat in his chest. Perhaps this was his way out. The store was dark like the rest of the city in the midnight hours. Framed for murder. Breaking and entering. The maker was really against Raziel tonight.
He pushed his way inside, taking care to avoid pushing with his bloodied hand. He staggered across the floor. From the counter to the storage room. Anywhere that he could use to hide. Raziel had lost a lot of blood. From outside the home he could hear his pursuers in the streets. He could see glow of the torches outside the windows. He held his breath, afraid that even the slightest breath would let him be found. Seconds, minutes? It was unclear how much time had actually passed. The glow from the torches faded away. He found himself gasping for air. The threat of his pursuers gone and he was once again able to breathe.
In silence once again, the man shuffled though the storage room and found a spot hidden away between two barrels. With his back rested against one barrel he looked at the arrow sticking from his shoulder. His previous white cloak had now been stained with a thick red. He grasped onto the arrow. The mere pressure on it from the touch caused him to wince and quiet obscenities ran through his lips. His hand fell from the arrow and his head fell back against the barrel. He could.. wait.
Sleep wasn't something that Cas fell into easily. There were days she would lie away for hours, only the aid of herbal combinations easing her into a light sleep. There were days that she would sleep instantly and dream of her parents. Upon waking up she would scramble for her journal to write down what she saw before she forgot. (These days were her favorite.) There were days were she wouldn't sleep until the morning sun was just starting to peek over the clouds. (These days were not so enjoyable.) This night, however, she was awake for an entirely different reason. That reason took the form of faded old letters that were tucked lovingly into a small box. Cas ran her fingers across the paper and let a sad sigh escape her.
This would be the part where she would carefully unfold the first letter and start her emotional recollection but faint lights pulled her away from doing so. Being so close to the outskirts meant there wasn't much activity, or at least she hardly saw any, be it in the day or night. To see the glow of flames outside made her anxious. After tucking the letters back into their home she went to the window. A horde of torch carrying townspeople. Not necessarily happy looking, Cas noted. Had something horrible just taken place? Curiosity was overruling logic and soon she messily tying her hair up to go outside.
That was the plan, at least. To go outside and ask one of the townspeople just what exactly happened to invoke such a crowd, but something stopped her. Blood on the floor stopped her. The streaks had come from the outside (Had she really forgotten to lock up?) and worked it's way over to the storage area where she was starting to see, despite the fading glow of the fire, the beginnings of a pool. Cas was conflicted. Should she get a weapon just in case? There would be no need for it. Surely someone, or something, that had lost this much blood was bound to be very weak. Still, she grabbed the first thing her hands touched. Her pruning shears.
//Breath In, Breath Out.// Cas quickly yanked the door open and readied herself for a battle, but it never came. She looked in and saw a heavily bleeding man laying against the water barrels. An arrow was protruding from his shoulder. Well, that explained the blood. The tight grip on the shears lessened and she knelt down to look at the man. The immense blood loss was turning him pale. Almost as pale as the man that had come in not too long ago.
"Hey," Cas whispered, nudging the man's foot with her shears ", are you dead?" Because honestly, that was the last thing she needed right now. How would she even explain this to... Anyone? //Oh, please don't be dead//
The man could only lay there and listen to the footsteps as they traveled through the store. The time he had was slowly slipping away. It wouldn't take long for him to be found by the owner of the home. What would come of this? He had only needed a moment to rest and a moment to hide. Everything would have been cleaned up with his cloak by morning. At least, he hoped that would be the case. In his life, Raziel had suffered much more worse than this. An arrow to his shoulder was nothing, no matter how deep it had been lodged. He had scars that covered the rest of his body to prove it.
There was no mistaking the soft steps of the female who approached him. Raziel would have thought a woman to be more frantic to find an intruder in her home. His eyes opened low at first, finding a pair of shears had hit him in the foot. He understood her caution. His head slid down so he could meet her gaze with his piercing yellow eyes. A single eye of hers had been lost to the darkness while the other stood out and met his own. Had he been in better health at the time, he would have commented on their similarities.
“I apologize for the state of your home,” he responded out-front. His spoke with as much strength, as much elegance, as he could muster. “I needed a place to rest. If you allow it, I shall be gone by morning.”
His head slid back once again. The strength and his pride was beginning to fade away. The recent movements he had made, though small, had irritated his wound tremendously. He held back any displays of weakness, but perhaps this woman could be his opportunity. Women often were sympathetic. “I am in no position to ask you of favors, but could you help me remove this from my arm?”
Cas breathed a sigh a relief. Even if the man's voice seemed to barely make it out, he was still talking and had at least retained enough strength to keep himself up. She thought it almost funny how polite he was being, despite the current circumstances. The house could easily be cleaned up, even if the blood was starting to dry up, but if given the choice she would prefer bloody floors to a dead man in her closet. Said man looked like he was barely hanging on, and she would probably be stuck with both the floors and the dead man if she didn't act fast to remove the arrow. At his request, she nodded and went to acquire the proper tools and herbs. She had never removed an arrow herself before. She had watched John do it whenever Issac had gotten attacked on his way home, but that wasn't enough to educate her on the correct way to remove the weapon. For now, it would have to do.
"You needn't apologize. Blood can be cleaned. That wound will take a while to heal though." Cas had returned back to the storage space, arms full of supplies, and nudged him gently with her foot. "Can you move out a bit? I need some space to work."
She could've probably worked inside the storage room if the man wasn't so tall. He was sitting and he still had to look down to met her eye. That was something else she thought was funny; their shared damaged eye. Judging by the scar, he hadn't gotten it the same way she had. Cas placed the supplies on the floor and went to check on the man, nearly tripping over the bowl of water on her way there. "Can you move by yourself? Do you need help?"
As the woman spoke now, it had become apparent that she had a slight accent. This was a kind woman. Cas was somebody who acted first and asked questions later. Maybe that made her a little bit naïve. At this moment Raziel did not care. She left him without a word after she had spoken. It caught him by surprise. Most untrained people would reach out for the arrow and pull it out then and there like Raziel had been trying to do moments ago.
Within moments the woman appeared to him once again. She wanted him to move. Tools and herbs? In his first impression he thought this woman to be a doctor. What had Raziel done to favor the maker to be blessed with this fortune?
"Yes," the man spoke slowly. "I got in here. The least I could do is get back out." The sound of his voice showed the apparent doubt in his words.
With his good arm rested on a barrel he pushed his body up against it to lift him up off the floor. His body staggered. The flow of his blood moved slowly to his head and for that moment his vision was completely black. He stood there unmoving, his hand still clinging to the barrel. Once his vision caught up to him, he allowed himself to start moving. At full height he towered over the woman. A hand on the wall provided him with the support he needed as he left the store room and entered the room where he saw the bowl on the floor.
Cas moved to steady him when he stood but was faced with a realization. If the man wasn't already tall sitting down he was certainly tall standing up, and there was no way she would be strong enough to hold him up. It was a little intimidating to say the least. Luckily he found support in the wall. Cas patted the spot in front of her tools and began to flit about her tools once seated. She was praying that the arrow hadn't trapped itself into the bone. Removing the arrow from flesh was difficult. Removing it from both the flesh and bone? And that was if the arrow wasn't bent. But she was getting ahead of herself, and she reminded herself of that. Cas grabbed one of the little rags in the stack and handed it to the man.
"Something to bite down on if you need to. It might get painful." Might was putting it kindly. It was definitely going to get painful, but she thought it might be nice not to worry her now patient. She had a feeling he might already know the truth given the scars that she was able to see. Cas cut the man's shirt ("I'm sorry about this. I'll stitch it back up after.") to reveal the rest of the wound. Injuries such as this weren't something she took care of a lot. Seeing it this up close brought her a chill.
Grabbing the arrow's shaft, she carefully twirled it to see if it was lodged in the bone. It was, and Cas frowned. She wiped the blood around the wound before using a small knife to enlarge the tear. More blood dripped onto the floors and red stained rags began to pile up. Once or twice she considered engaging in small talk to distract him, but ultimately decided again it. The wound was more opened now; The man's blood had loosened the gut holding the arrowhead and shaft together, causing it to be taken off with a slight pull. Now there was only the removal of the arrowhead. Cas lightly patted the man's shoulders in what she hoped was comforting then stretched to grab the pincers.
"The only thing left is the arrowhead. How are you faring?"
It would have been foolish for him to have thought this wound would merely be superficial. Previous attempts at tugging on the arrowhead had proved him otherwise. He was no stranger to the pain he was about to feel. With the rag placed in his hands, he eyeballed it. Would he need it? The arrow had buried itself deep within him. It was different when taking hits in his other form. The thundering roars from a dragon were much more acceptable than the whimpering cries of a simple man. With a bite to his pride the rag was placed in his mouth. Had he been in a more right mind, he would have removed his torn shirt for her before she got to work on her own. The fabric from his shirt instead fell aside. This wasn't the first time he would need to replace the garment and he doubted it would be his last.
The pain that erupted from his shoulder at her simple touch was immense. Everything in his mind told him to pull away as if that would be the way to stop the pain that was shooting through his body. Breathing became harsh as he fought off the pain and bit down on the rag. All his focus had gone into simply breathing as evenly as he could while his good hand grasped at the boards of the floor under him. With Cas vision obscured by his leg and focused on the wound in his shoulder, his fingernails clawed at the floor and bore holes into the wood.
"Hurts. But I'll live," Raziel admitted through his clenched teeth. His piercing gaze studied the woman's features. Her hair, pulled loosely into a long pony tail, Raziel wondered how it hadn't gotten in her way. Through all of this, she had been calm. Still, in formality he asked of her. "Miss, are you faring alright?"
"Yes. I'm a little shaky, but I'm alright." Cas rubbed her eye with her palm and fidgeted slightly under his look. She had never seen so much blood before. She had never performed a procedure like this before. She can only thank the stars for being successful up to this point. The bloodied rags and knife were moved into her gardening bucket to prevent more blood soaking into the floor. It probably didn't even matter by this point. Cas straightened her back then hunched a bit after hearing a few pops. The blood didn't flow as quickly as it did before and she took advantage of that. The vision in her eye was starting to blur, her crossed legs were in the beginning phases of cramping, and her fingers were stained red. The man in front of her had been in so much pain he made holes in the wooden floor. They both deserved a little break, she thought.
"How did this happen, if you don't mind me asking." She would be lying if she said she wasn't curious. People don't just show up in other people's storage closets with an arrow stuck in them. Despite her mind saying that it was best left unasked, she wanted to know. Cas fiddled with the pincers in her lap as she really took in the man. He didn't look like someone who got into fights for the fun of it, though the scars say he has seen his fair share of them. He was intimidating but that alone shouldn't warrant an arrow. Or, she thought it didn't warrant it.
"I am glad to hear you are doing alright," he offered a small smile. It was the most he could do for her at this time. This was where hesitation began to settle in. The arrowhead had still been in his shoulder. To say the truth now could mean she wouldn't remove it for him. The truth may not be believed. As far-fetched as it may have sounded in his case, none of this was Raziel's doing. The accusations that the town's people had thrown his way were false. With no other witnesses, however, it was Raziel's words against a dead woman's and the real culprit of the attack. The man's mouth opened and closed a few times before he had the ability to speak.
“I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” It seemed the best way to start. He shifted his body to get a little bit more comfortable and then waved his own hand as a way for the woman to do the same. It could be a long story. “I came into town in search of an inn. There were few people in the streets at the late hours. It was surprising to see. Had I thought about it then, I would have thought it suspicious. Turning deeper into the city, I realized that not all of these people were travelers like I was. A woman in the street; a knife buried deeply within her neck. Perhaps it was foolish for me to check her, but I did. I removed the knife and touched the body. That was when a woman in the street screamed. She shouted at me like I was some murderer, and others had soon followed. My hands up, dagger raised in my hand, I stepped forward and pleaded. That was when the arrow struck me. Maybe my next actions had been my biggest mistake, but that is when I ran. They wouldn't listen to me. All they saw me for was a murderer.”
He gave a long sigh after his story and closed his eyes. There was no doubt the woman had seen traces of his war torn body. The sharp features of his face and his large physic made him look intimidating. Not to mention he was unfamiliar to those in this town. Raziel wasn't free of mistakes. His life had been so long and he had been led to make so many. Many people had their lives ended by his hands. It would even be false to say he had never killed an innocent person. That past had been long behind him.
After a short silence, he spoke again. “It was not me who had killed that woman.”
"I'm glad you're okay too. You lost a lot of blood. I'm surprised you didn't pass out." Cas gave a little laugh and a tired sort of smile. The high from the impromptu surgery was beginning to fade and she was able to breath and process again. The little smile on the man's face looked almost out of place. It had made him look slightly more open. Nicer, even. The smile faded as he seemed to be searching for the right words to say. Her head tilted a fraction to the side in confusion but she waited patiently until the words could be found. At the wave of his hand she outstretched her legs before bringing them to her chest, her head sitting atop her knees.
As the man told his story, Cas tried hard to make her face unreadable. A story like that must've been told by hundreds of criminals. Claiming 'wrong place, wrong time', 'I was framed', and the sorts. She had never met this man prior to tonight, and it was only because of the townspeople did she even find him in the first place. If not for them, she probably would've been in the same position as him. If he was telling the truth, that is. At least she got her answer as to why they were out the way they were. Her brow knitted and she frowned slightly. There was no telling if he was being honest. There was nothing saying that he was lying, nothing to help her decide what to think. But then he sighed, and Cas knew.
He sounded like someone who was tired in ways Cas couldn't comprehend. He looked like someone who had seen, and possibly done, things no one should ever go through. Every second that ticked by in silence, he looked even more worn out. She buried her face into her knees. There was a feeling she couldn't explain when she looked at him. Pity? Concern? Fear? Feelings were always hard for Cas to figure out, and the lack of understanding was beginning to upset her. She gave her own little sigh. Izzy was always such a good judge of character. If only she were here now. Bringing her chin back up she focused her view on the man again. He had broken the silence then and Cas met his eye. A moment passed. Then another. Then she found her answer.
I believe you. The woman's words were like a magic that Raziel had long forgotten. It was light a giant weight had been lifted from his shoulders. There was a lot that was stacked against the foreign man who had wandered into her midst. Yet, she had believed what she had said. There was one person in this town who would stand by his side. He wished he had more to offer her aside from the small amount of gold in his pouch and the stories of the lands he had visited. Raziel knew that he couldn't stay long. Already, his presence here could be putting the young woman in danger. Guilty by association, she would be in trouble because she had become an accomplice. He wondered if that realization had set in yet for her, or if it even would. A situation like this did not happen to often.
“Thank you.” He whispered. “You have done so much for me. Tell me, what is your name?”
It really didn't sit right with him to possibly have a bounty on his head in this town. The dragon would do what he needed to in order to survive. It was all he ever did. Had everything been in order come morning, he planned to flee from this town and leave what he could with the woman.
Cas could practically feel his relief. It was to be expected. The man seemed to have no acquaintances within this town and when a man who no one knows shows up next to a corpse with a bloody knife in hand, people won't put a second thought into attacking. She did agree with the foolishness of checking on the body, though she would be lying if she said that she would've walked the other way. It was probably for the best that he ran. Even if it only made him more suspicious. The crowd wouldn't have listened to him anyways, their minds too clouded with anger. Should she be angry too? What would she be angry about?
She was never really one to review things logically. Act first, think later. It felt right to help and believe the man, but was it really right? Even if this whole story was a lie and he was really guilty, would she feel bad for helping him? Would that make her a bad person? The question made her stomach turn to ice. Her head turned slightly. No. She made her decision and she was standing by it. Something told her to believe the man, so that's what she was going to do. Cas turned her head back to the man, then gave him a small shrug and even smaller smile.
"I'm just trying to do what feels right. There's no need to thank me." Cas shifted uncomfortably. 'Thank yous' weren't something she was accustom to. People usually came and left as quickly as the wind. The number of people who actually stuck around to chat with her could be counted on one hand, and that was because they were asking about one of her guardians.
"Well, Raziel, despite the circumstances I'm delighted it meet you. You can call me Cas." She stretched out her legs and twirled her wrists before grabbing the pincers. As nice as the break had been there was still something that needed her attention.
"Let's get that arrowhead out so I can stitch you up."
That was the first time that night that Raziel had caught the glimpse of a smile on this woman's face. Through that simple action he now knew that he had an ally through all of this. This woman was willing to help him whether she fully believed his story or not. It was okay if she didn't. Raziel wouldn't blame her. Nor would he blame her if she kicked him out onto the street the moment she removed the stone shard from his splintered shoulder. Nothing was making her take care of him. Truly, this man had been very fortunate indeed.
He had stumbled upon somebody with strong morals. Cas really was being modest with her replies. From the way that she appeared to him in his time of need, the man really could call her a gift from the maker. The human word for it was angel. Perhaps somebody had indeed been looking out for Raziel when they brought him to his newfound ally.
“Perhaps I had spoken too lightly,” he said, “Miss Cas, I really appreciate your help.” It was something much stronger than the simple 'Thank you'. His words carried more weight to it. Raziel had always tried to be genuine with his words. It wasn't often that he joked, and he found no sense in lying.
With his sharp eyes he watched her movements. She was shifting again, and so had he. Raziel always hated the cool sear of pincers as they dug through his hot flesh, pulling aside torn muscles and skin. At least this time it hadn't been awkwardly by his own hand. With his good hand pulling at his skin lightly, he exposed the wound to her once again.
"It's no problem, really..." Cas was thankful that she was behind him again because there was a warmth on her face that was more than likely visible. Accepting thanks was hard enough for her but his words had carried something more. She had helped tend to his wound. She believed his story, believed him. Raziel spoke words that held genuine appreciation for what she was doing. To say the least, it was very overwhelming for her. There was no time to linger anymore on it, and Cas was glad for that.
She grabbed the arrowhead with her pincers and began to pull. Arrowheads were a pain, both literally and metaphorically speaking, to remove. More so when they were trapped in the bone. This one would be no exception. She gave a few good pulls before having to stop. It had moved a fraction but still no dice. Cas pushed the hair in front of her good eye back and gripped the stone again. She moved the arrowhead up and down in hopes of releasing it a little more. The tear had been reopened slightly, but she had felt some give. The drops of blood was wiped away and she had taken to standing.
"I hope this is okay." A hand was placed on Raziel's back and the pulling resumed. Cas never thought of herself as a person with great strength, but she liked to think she was strong enough. The arrowhead would disagree. It felt like no matter how hard she tried the stone wouldn't move. Frustration was beginning to bubble and she felt the sting of angry tears prick her eyes. //Oh come on, you sharp stupid rock...// One hard tug and Cas found herself on the floor with the arrowhead gripped tightly by the pincers. The relief she felt was instant and short-lived.
The arrowhead had scrapped against his flesh and blood had started to flow once more. Dropping the tool down, she scrambled for a rag to press onto the wound. She looked to the pointed stone, stained and dripping on the floor, and laughed slightly. The blood had slowed enough for her to drop the rag into the bucket and collect her sewing kit and herbal jars. She sat back down with a sigh.
The control that the man usually exhibited was dwindling from the pain. Beads of sweat were starting to trail down his body. It was an excruciating burning sensation on his sensitive skin torn flesh. When nothing moved the world was fine; there was no pain. Every scrape, every tug upon that blasted piece of stone. The dragon kept his voice low as he spoke in foreign tongues: obceneites used from his once primitive past. His sharp nails dug into the palm of his balled hand right up until the moment it had been over.
He shouted out as the blade ripped his skin from the inside out. Without a doubt the wound had been widened. It would leave a pretty scar to add to his collection. Just another wound from an injury he didn't deserve. Raziel had often praised the way humans could adapt and change to the world around them. Advancements in tools and technology made every year of his life different from the last. For better and for worse. Bows had become stronger, arrow heads tipped with wyrmsbane could bring even the strongest of dragon's to their knees. In this case, Raziel had been lucky. His wound would fester, but not for long.
The man's large body had almost fell away from the woman. The new blood had only a moment to pour down his body before Cas brought a rag over it. “You react quickly,” he told her, his voice was rough, and he panted lightly between his words. “I feel much better now with that out of me.”
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