Angel Boy
Beaux
Caught up inside, both happy and lonely
Job: Free Form
Post Word Count: 1,515
Job Word Count: 1,515/1,500
Muse: 10/10
Music: Demons
Items Used IC/OOC: Item 1, Item 2
Active Spells: Spell 1 (Duration: x/x)
Post Word Count: 1,515
Job Word Count: 1,515/1,500
Muse: 10/10
Music: Demons
Items Used IC/OOC: Item 1, Item 2
Active Spells: Spell 1 (Duration: x/x)
Beaux awoke with a start, letting out a groan of pain as his muscles tightened. His head was pounding, each throb feeling like the slamming of a hammer against his skull. Bleary blue eyes slowly wandered the room. Faint light was glowing from behind the solid window curtain. On the opposite wall were some cupboards with a countertop beneath. A few jars sat on the surface, but they were too far away to make any sense of what was inside. A thick curtain separated the room into two so that the door wasn’t visible.
Beaux’s eyes trailed to his own body. He was lying in a bed framed with short metal bars so that he wouldn’t fall out. Covering his body was a thick ivory blanket. To the side of the bed stood a bag on a stand, a tube coming from the bottom and disappearing under his blankets.
Am I in the infirmary?... Beaux wondered to himself, his thoughts fuzzy. Why am I in the infirmary? What happened? The answer didn’t come to him. It felt like his head was full of molasses. Each thought was like a swimmer trying to make their way through it, but kept getting stuck.
The angel did his best to sit up. There was stinging pain coming from his abdomen, but he was scared to look. The edge of a bandage peeked from beneath the blanket on his chest. They weren’t bloody from what he could see, but he dared not push back the covering to see. Beaux glanced away with a gulp. With that, he realized he was incredibly thirsty despite the IV bag attached to his hand. Usually he was good about keeping his hydration up, but with the last day being a blank in his mind, he wasn’t sure the last time he’d consumed water.
Hazy blue eyes sought out a glass or a bottle or something to drink from. There was a sink built into the countertop. Surely there were plastic cups in the cupboards somewhere. Beaux was willing to bend down and drink straight from the tap if he had to. If he could just get there somehow…
The angel let out a whimper as he scooted to the edge of the bed. Everything was sore, but sharp stinging pain shot throughout his abdomen. That seemed to be the core of everything that hurt. With some effort and more soft cries of pain, he managed to get to his feet. Blankets were grabbed and wrapped around his body to hide what was beneath and to keep him warm. Beaux took a moment to steady himself, making sure that he wouldn’t collapse when he took a step. Each movement was shaky.
It took a few minutes, but Beaux made his way to the other side of the room. One hand supported him while he opened the cupboards. He searched the various shelves, only finding medical supplies. At last, he found a few glasses in the top row. He slowly reached up to grab one. Pain ripped through his chest as the muscles stretched. Beaux nearly sobbed at the sensation. Nevertheless, he was thirsty enough to push through and grab the glass.
The angel placed his cup on the countertop and took a moment to breathe as deeply as he could and tremble. Just what had happened to render him this harmed and weak? After he caught his breath, Beaux reached over to the sink and swiftly filled his glass. Raising up the glass, he let the cool liquid slide into his parched mouth. It was so refreshing he nearly moaned. Even swallowing hurt though…
Just as he was finishing up his drink, Beaux’s vision was overtaken. In an instant he couldn’t see the room he was in. All he could see was a pair of predatory blue eyes. The gaze ripped into his soul, hounded his mind until he could think of naught else. The eyes wrought terror throughout the angel’s body. His heart began to pound as he stumbled back blindly. Aching muscles began to tense as adrenaline coursed through his veins. With a single clench of his fist, the water glass was shattered. Shards fell to the floor, but many cut into Beaux’s hand. Blood and water began to drip in a slow crimson rain.
The blankets had fallen from his body, revealing the thick bandages covering the angel’s torso and some of his legs. Beaux looked down in horror. Everything suddenly hit him with headache-inducing clarity. Every second of his encounter with Sanguine replayed through his mind in excruciating detail. The angel doubled over as he was overcome with memory. His body ached where Sanguine had hit him, which was, well, almost everywhere.
After the physical memory attack had subdued some, Beaux found himself on his hands and knees in the infirmary room. Agony racked his ribs as he gasped for air. Fear caused every inch of him to tremble. It felt like someone was hitting his head with a sledgehammer in increasing power. What is happening to me? Beaux thought, groaning as the headache persisted.
In a split second he was overtaken by another memory-seizure. This time, it wasn’t his own memories. Beaux found himself looking over a chasm, edged by steep cliffs that dropped straight down into the darkness below. Shadows seemed to slink around like smoke from whatever was at the bottom. A piece of the cliff edge raised up into a platform, shrouded in a dim light. There seemed to be no other major light sources.
Upon the precipice stood a figure. It was tall, muscular, and mysterious. Beaux could almost feel the darkness emanating from it. Whoever - or whatever - it was had two lithe but massive pairs of pitch black wings. The feathered limbs stretched out over the cliffside, a menacing mass to accompany a sinister being. A breeze of an unknown source ruffled the feathers gently.
The figure turned to face from where Beaux was looking. It was a man, seemingly. He was shirtless but wore an almost skirt-like garment on his lower half. On his head was a large, decorative golden mask. Metal feathers stuck out from the sides and thin golden chains hung down to his chest. Oddest of all was the mask shape itself - it covered his eyes completely. The bottom of the mask pressed close to his cheekbones. There was no chance of seeing anything from beneath it.
The man reached out a hand towards Beaux, or whomever this memory belonged to. A finger beckoned him closer, then extended into a claw-like digit. Across the face of the dark being, a wolfish smirk formed. “I see you’ve decided to come for a visit,” the black angel taunted. His voice was the deepest that Beaux had ever heard. It was soothing, alluring, inviting. It called to him, deep within, and made him want to trust this man. Beaux would have shivered if he was able.
The angel was yanked back into reality by someone touching his shoulder gently. He glanced up through bleary eyes to see a doctor leaning over him with a concerned look on his face. Two nurses stood behind him, worried looks on their faces. The effect of the memories had caused Beaux to curl up in the corner of the room. He was clutching his bleeding hand and trembling. Baby blue eyes had stared at nothing as he rocked back and forth. To any medical professional, it was clear that he was suffering from the trauma he had experienced no more that 24 hours before.
As Beaux slowly came to from his episode, all of the sensations that were subdued by the memory attack came back tenfold. He felt a crippling exhaustion fall over his body like a wave. Sledgehammer throbs in his head made the angel cringe. His ribs ached from the effort of heaving breaths. He noticed the IV drip had been ripped from his hand and laid across the floor. “What happened to me?” he mumbled to the doctor, his voice quiet and afraid.
“I’m not entirely sure, Mr. Phacelia. We’re going to give you some relaxing agents so that your mind and body can rest. As soon as we figure it out, we will let you know. Right now we need to get you back to your bed so that you can work on recovering.” Beaux nodded drearily. He accepted the help of the doctors and nurses to get to his feet and stumble back to the hospital bed. As soon as he had settled down, the nurses added a new bit of liquid to the IV bag. Soon after, Beaux felt himself begin to relax mentally and physically.
The last thing he heard was the doctor heading towards the door. “I’m going to get the lead psychologist and therapist in the area. I’ve never seen a case like this before,” he told the nurses. “Stay here and keep an eye over him. The last thing he needs to slow his recovery even more is another episode of whatever that was.”
Beaux’s eyes trailed to his own body. He was lying in a bed framed with short metal bars so that he wouldn’t fall out. Covering his body was a thick ivory blanket. To the side of the bed stood a bag on a stand, a tube coming from the bottom and disappearing under his blankets.
Am I in the infirmary?... Beaux wondered to himself, his thoughts fuzzy. Why am I in the infirmary? What happened? The answer didn’t come to him. It felt like his head was full of molasses. Each thought was like a swimmer trying to make their way through it, but kept getting stuck.
The angel did his best to sit up. There was stinging pain coming from his abdomen, but he was scared to look. The edge of a bandage peeked from beneath the blanket on his chest. They weren’t bloody from what he could see, but he dared not push back the covering to see. Beaux glanced away with a gulp. With that, he realized he was incredibly thirsty despite the IV bag attached to his hand. Usually he was good about keeping his hydration up, but with the last day being a blank in his mind, he wasn’t sure the last time he’d consumed water.
Hazy blue eyes sought out a glass or a bottle or something to drink from. There was a sink built into the countertop. Surely there were plastic cups in the cupboards somewhere. Beaux was willing to bend down and drink straight from the tap if he had to. If he could just get there somehow…
The angel let out a whimper as he scooted to the edge of the bed. Everything was sore, but sharp stinging pain shot throughout his abdomen. That seemed to be the core of everything that hurt. With some effort and more soft cries of pain, he managed to get to his feet. Blankets were grabbed and wrapped around his body to hide what was beneath and to keep him warm. Beaux took a moment to steady himself, making sure that he wouldn’t collapse when he took a step. Each movement was shaky.
It took a few minutes, but Beaux made his way to the other side of the room. One hand supported him while he opened the cupboards. He searched the various shelves, only finding medical supplies. At last, he found a few glasses in the top row. He slowly reached up to grab one. Pain ripped through his chest as the muscles stretched. Beaux nearly sobbed at the sensation. Nevertheless, he was thirsty enough to push through and grab the glass.
The angel placed his cup on the countertop and took a moment to breathe as deeply as he could and tremble. Just what had happened to render him this harmed and weak? After he caught his breath, Beaux reached over to the sink and swiftly filled his glass. Raising up the glass, he let the cool liquid slide into his parched mouth. It was so refreshing he nearly moaned. Even swallowing hurt though…
Just as he was finishing up his drink, Beaux’s vision was overtaken. In an instant he couldn’t see the room he was in. All he could see was a pair of predatory blue eyes. The gaze ripped into his soul, hounded his mind until he could think of naught else. The eyes wrought terror throughout the angel’s body. His heart began to pound as he stumbled back blindly. Aching muscles began to tense as adrenaline coursed through his veins. With a single clench of his fist, the water glass was shattered. Shards fell to the floor, but many cut into Beaux’s hand. Blood and water began to drip in a slow crimson rain.
The blankets had fallen from his body, revealing the thick bandages covering the angel’s torso and some of his legs. Beaux looked down in horror. Everything suddenly hit him with headache-inducing clarity. Every second of his encounter with Sanguine replayed through his mind in excruciating detail. The angel doubled over as he was overcome with memory. His body ached where Sanguine had hit him, which was, well, almost everywhere.
After the physical memory attack had subdued some, Beaux found himself on his hands and knees in the infirmary room. Agony racked his ribs as he gasped for air. Fear caused every inch of him to tremble. It felt like someone was hitting his head with a sledgehammer in increasing power. What is happening to me? Beaux thought, groaning as the headache persisted.
In a split second he was overtaken by another memory-seizure. This time, it wasn’t his own memories. Beaux found himself looking over a chasm, edged by steep cliffs that dropped straight down into the darkness below. Shadows seemed to slink around like smoke from whatever was at the bottom. A piece of the cliff edge raised up into a platform, shrouded in a dim light. There seemed to be no other major light sources.
Upon the precipice stood a figure. It was tall, muscular, and mysterious. Beaux could almost feel the darkness emanating from it. Whoever - or whatever - it was had two lithe but massive pairs of pitch black wings. The feathered limbs stretched out over the cliffside, a menacing mass to accompany a sinister being. A breeze of an unknown source ruffled the feathers gently.
The figure turned to face from where Beaux was looking. It was a man, seemingly. He was shirtless but wore an almost skirt-like garment on his lower half. On his head was a large, decorative golden mask. Metal feathers stuck out from the sides and thin golden chains hung down to his chest. Oddest of all was the mask shape itself - it covered his eyes completely. The bottom of the mask pressed close to his cheekbones. There was no chance of seeing anything from beneath it.
The man reached out a hand towards Beaux, or whomever this memory belonged to. A finger beckoned him closer, then extended into a claw-like digit. Across the face of the dark being, a wolfish smirk formed. “I see you’ve decided to come for a visit,” the black angel taunted. His voice was the deepest that Beaux had ever heard. It was soothing, alluring, inviting. It called to him, deep within, and made him want to trust this man. Beaux would have shivered if he was able.
The angel was yanked back into reality by someone touching his shoulder gently. He glanced up through bleary eyes to see a doctor leaning over him with a concerned look on his face. Two nurses stood behind him, worried looks on their faces. The effect of the memories had caused Beaux to curl up in the corner of the room. He was clutching his bleeding hand and trembling. Baby blue eyes had stared at nothing as he rocked back and forth. To any medical professional, it was clear that he was suffering from the trauma he had experienced no more that 24 hours before.
As Beaux slowly came to from his episode, all of the sensations that were subdued by the memory attack came back tenfold. He felt a crippling exhaustion fall over his body like a wave. Sledgehammer throbs in his head made the angel cringe. His ribs ached from the effort of heaving breaths. He noticed the IV drip had been ripped from his hand and laid across the floor. “What happened to me?” he mumbled to the doctor, his voice quiet and afraid.
“I’m not entirely sure, Mr. Phacelia. We’re going to give you some relaxing agents so that your mind and body can rest. As soon as we figure it out, we will let you know. Right now we need to get you back to your bed so that you can work on recovering.” Beaux nodded drearily. He accepted the help of the doctors and nurses to get to his feet and stumble back to the hospital bed. As soon as he had settled down, the nurses added a new bit of liquid to the IV bag. Soon after, Beaux felt himself begin to relax mentally and physically.
The last thing he heard was the doctor heading towards the door. “I’m going to get the lead psychologist and therapist in the area. I’ve never seen a case like this before,” he told the nurses. “Stay here and keep an eye over him. The last thing he needs to slow his recovery even more is another episode of whatever that was.”
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