It had been an Arachne – or at least, they had been fighting an Arachne, and something else had crept up behind him. It had got him in the side, a single puncture wound just below his ribs, before he’d turned and killed it. In the dark he hadn’t got the chance to identify it, much less examine it.
After the fight – a short one; it had only been an Arachne, after all – they regrouped and made the last leg to the haven, rather than hang about in the field where worse things might yet find them. On the way there, trudging single-file in the dark, Gladio had boasted of being unharmed, but Prompto complained extensively of a sore knee, and Noct of electricity burns on his right hand. Ignis was silent.
They only had one potion left. Ignis knew that, had known it since they’d used up all the others in a rather disastrous dungeon two days ago, but went through the motions of checking anyway, and breaking the bad news.
The wound in his side was small, no more than the diameter of a pencil, and not very deep either. Prompto’s knee was bruised and swollen but not sprained, so the potion had gone to Noct, whose burns did look rather painful. Ignis carefully didn’t mention his own injury to anyone. He knew, either way, that Noct would end up with the potion, but this way it cut the debate considerably shorter, which in itself was an enormous relief. He was tired and aching all over and just wanted to be done with cooking, clean up his wound somewhere private, and go to bed. Neither his nor Noct’s injuries were life threatening, not anywhere near, but Ignis would much prefer Noct was comfortable, even at the expense of his own comfort. They would return to Hammerhead in the morning where they could restock on potions and other necessities, and it wouldn’t matter that they’d wasted this potion on something relatively inconsequential.
Dinner was daggerquill rice, to pacify Prompto, and though he overcooked the meat and added a touch too much pepper, no one commented. It was rather saddening, Ignis thought as he washed up and watched Gladio attempted to cheer up Prompto, who was still sulking over the potion, that it was almost definitely because no one had realised and not because they were being polite. Good food was wasted on them. Oh well, never mind. They got something reasonably healthy in them, and he’d have to be satisfied with that.
‘Hey, d’you need any help?’ Noct, coming up from behind him, almost made Ignis startle enough to drop the saucepan he was washing.
‘I’m almost done, but thank you.’ Ignis managed a faint smile. If Noct was offering to help with the dishes, he must be feeling very guilty about getting the potion over Prompto. A wash of fondness came over Ignis and his smile, however small, became genuine. ‘How about you finish setting up the tent? It seems Prompto’s feeling well enough to be distracting Gladio, and I for one would like somewhere to sleep tonight.’ Gladio had already put the thing together, so Noct only had to sort out the rain cover. Which was good, because Ignis wasn’t sure Noct knew the first steps in how to assemble the tent, despite how long they’d all been using it for.
They both looked over to where Prompto was kneeling on Gladio’s shoulders, trying to take a photo of something in a tree next to the haven. Gladio, deciding it was taking too long, deliberately wobbled, and Prompto grabbed onto his head to avoid falling off. They both started shouting and flailing about.
Noctis snorted in amusement, but Ignis caught him flexing his right hand, rubbing it against the fabric of his trousers. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘I can do that.’
That night, as Ignis lay in his sleeping bag, listening to the others drop off around him, eyes gritty with exhaustion, he failed for a long time to find sleep himself. His injury, now washed out and neatly covered in a square of gauze, was more painful by far than he felt it warranted. Ignis touched it with his fingertips, just gently, and hissed as pain shot up his side. That was definitely not good. Nor was the fact that it had already bled through the gauze and onto t-shirt he was sleeping in. Ignis fumbled around above his head for one of his shirts, folding it up and using the sleeves to knot it over the gauze. That should be enough, and he was too worn out to bother with more. And the fact that it was bleeding so much in the first place?
Never mind. It was probably just deeper than he’d previously thought. And even if not, there was nothing he could do about it now, anyway. He just had to wait until they got their hands on those potions.
Ignis woke the next morning with a mouth full of blood. Blood ran from his nose, too, and only sheer force of will got him out of the tent before he spat, coughing and wiping at his face with his forearms. His shirt, which he undid from around his waist, had become almost entirely damp with blood, still red and sticky and fresh. The gauze was completely soaked, oozing more blood even as Ignis inspected it, a sinking feeling in his gut. The flesh around the wound felt hard, extensively bruised and close to agonisingly painful.
It was dawn, just. Ignis sat down quickly as he realised how shaky his legs were, holding the soggy mess of his shirt to his side as hard as he could stomach. Poison, then. They didn’t have any antidotes, either, and how could he have got so lax in stocking their supplies? What if it’d been Noctis? Ignis closed his eyes and allowed for a moment to curse himself. Then he got up and poured himself some water, rinsing his mouth out and washing his face and side as best he could. He made up a glass with sugar and salt, too; the surest way to make blood loss far more serious than necessary was dehydration, and even though just the thought of drinking it set his stomach on edge, the alternative was worse.
His dirty clothes could go in the laundry, which no one but himself ever bothered with. He dressed the wound in abundant fresh gauze, bound as tight as he could with tape wrapped around his waist. After swallowing down the nausea that bubbled up with the pain, and checking to make sure it wasn’t bleeding through, he got dressed. Then Ignis sat down and ran through the options.
Telling everyone about the injury now would only make them worry, and worry wouldn’t get them to the needed supplies any quicker. It was embarrassing – it’d make him seem less capable of looking after himself. And it would make Noct feel even more guilty than he already did.
Pain and some bleeding weren’t going to do much more than make him uncomfortable, so long as the bleeding didn’t get any worse. If they were going to be spending the majority of their time in the Regalia then a bit of weakness wouldn’t matter either. He’d tell them if it got worse, but for now they didn’t need to know.
Ignis checked his watch. 5am. It’d be hours before the rest of them woke, much less woke enough to get mobilised.
Maybe he should try and get some more sleep. He could taste blood in his mouth again. It was leaking from the gums around his back teeth.
Well, better that than his front teeth, or lungs. Ignis sighed and propped his head on his palm, closing his eyes. He wasn’t fooling himself; this was likely a very serious condition. But that didn’t make his previous thoughts on the matter any less true – that all they needed to do was get to Hammerhead as soon as possible, and telling the others wouldn’t achieve that any better than if he didn’t tell them. He’d just have to make sure they didn’t get distracted on the way, or take any unnecessary detours.
It was entirely possible that he wasn’t thinking straight. Perhaps he should tell the others. But no. It would be fine.
Breathing hurt, like there was an inch-long nail buried in his side, shifting with each movement of his ribs. His breathing itself was oddly laboured, for all that he’d done nothing strenuous that morning. Ignis bit his lower lip and wished that he’d been able to recognise how serious this was before he’d persuaded Noct to use that last potion. Never mind. What was done was done. He’d ask Noct to drive, have a rest on the journey, and it would be all better by the time they got to Hammerhead, by mid-afternoon at the latest.
For now, he’d take a short nap and then get started on breakfast. Despite the warmth of the previous day it had turned chilly during the night, but at least it hadn’t rained, the ground dry and last evening’s clouds gone without the slightest sign they’d been there in the first place. The sky, stretching from darkest blue to the red dawn horizon, was clear and beautiful, still dotted with stars. It really was only too bad that Noct wasn’t awake and up to see it, Ignis thought.
Better not try climb back in the tent and risk not just disturbing his injury but waking all the others. Or, Prompto and Gladio, anyway. Ignis closed his eyes, tried to let his mind drift. Sleep eluded him. The pain in his side was edging ever closer to unbearable, and he had to swallow every now and then as his mouth continued to bleed. Blood tricked down his nose into the back of his throat.
Maybe he should give up on the idea of a nap and start on breakfast. He felt weak, and his heart was racing. He’d need the leisure to cook at a slower pace than normal, so perhaps it was good that he couldn’t sleep. Leave sleeping to the experts in the tent. The others had managed to finish off both their own and his remaining portion of the daggerquill rice, so leftovers was out of the question. Since, then, he had generous amounts of time, even given that he’d need to work slower, he could do scrambled eggs, perhaps, and those bread rolls that needed to be eaten. Dress the eggs up in some spices, chillies and tamarind, mint and coriander, and toast the rolls over the fire. Or since the eggs were fresh, poach them and let them stand on their own, save a touch of olive oil and lemon, salt and pepper, and served with the smoked meat of Noct’s latest catch.
The first glimpse of the sun made itself known on the horizon. Ignis got up and steeled himself as his head spun and his wound dug its agony deep into him, very almost sending him back into the chair. He would definitely be asking Noct to drive, then. And perhaps the smell of cooking would rouse the others before their natural emergence, so they could set off all the more quickly.
Ignis sighed as he started up the stove. Perhaps, but he didn’t have much faith in it.
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timeasmymeasure
FILL: Ignis, Hiding an injury [1/?]
Date: 2017-03-10 06:23 pm (UTC)After the fight – a short one; it had only been an Arachne, after all – they regrouped and made the last leg to the haven, rather than hang about in the field where worse things might yet find them. On the way there, trudging single-file in the dark, Gladio had boasted of being unharmed, but Prompto complained extensively of a sore knee, and Noct of electricity burns on his right hand. Ignis was silent.
They only had one potion left. Ignis knew that, had known it since they’d used up all the others in a rather disastrous dungeon two days ago, but went through the motions of checking anyway, and breaking the bad news.
The wound in his side was small, no more than the diameter of a pencil, and not very deep either. Prompto’s knee was bruised and swollen but not sprained, so the potion had gone to Noct, whose burns did look rather painful. Ignis carefully didn’t mention his own injury to anyone. He knew, either way, that Noct would end up with the potion, but this way it cut the debate considerably shorter, which in itself was an enormous relief. He was tired and aching all over and just wanted to be done with cooking, clean up his wound somewhere private, and go to bed. Neither his nor Noct’s injuries were life threatening, not anywhere near, but Ignis would much prefer Noct was comfortable, even at the expense of his own comfort. They would return to Hammerhead in the morning where they could restock on potions and other necessities, and it wouldn’t matter that they’d wasted this potion on something relatively inconsequential.
Dinner was daggerquill rice, to pacify Prompto, and though he overcooked the meat and added a touch too much pepper, no one commented. It was rather saddening, Ignis thought as he washed up and watched Gladio attempted to cheer up Prompto, who was still sulking over the potion, that it was almost definitely because no one had realised and not because they were being polite. Good food was wasted on them. Oh well, never mind. They got something reasonably healthy in them, and he’d have to be satisfied with that.
‘Hey, d’you need any help?’ Noct, coming up from behind him, almost made Ignis startle enough to drop the saucepan he was washing.
‘I’m almost done, but thank you.’ Ignis managed a faint smile. If Noct was offering to help with the dishes, he must be feeling very guilty about getting the potion over Prompto. A wash of fondness came over Ignis and his smile, however small, became genuine. ‘How about you finish setting up the tent? It seems Prompto’s feeling well enough to be distracting Gladio, and I for one would like somewhere to sleep tonight.’ Gladio had already put the thing together, so Noct only had to sort out the rain cover. Which was good, because Ignis wasn’t sure Noct knew the first steps in how to assemble the tent, despite how long they’d all been using it for.
They both looked over to where Prompto was kneeling on Gladio’s shoulders, trying to take a photo of something in a tree next to the haven. Gladio, deciding it was taking too long, deliberately wobbled, and Prompto grabbed onto his head to avoid falling off. They both started shouting and flailing about.
Noctis snorted in amusement, but Ignis caught him flexing his right hand, rubbing it against the fabric of his trousers. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘I can do that.’
That night, as Ignis lay in his sleeping bag, listening to the others drop off around him, eyes gritty with exhaustion, he failed for a long time to find sleep himself. His injury, now washed out and neatly covered in a square of gauze, was more painful by far than he felt it warranted. Ignis touched it with his fingertips, just gently, and hissed as pain shot up his side. That was definitely not good. Nor was the fact that it had already bled through the gauze and onto t-shirt he was sleeping in. Ignis fumbled around above his head for one of his shirts, folding it up and using the sleeves to knot it over the gauze. That should be enough, and he was too worn out to bother with more. And the fact that it was bleeding so much in the first place?
Never mind. It was probably just deeper than he’d previously thought. And even if not, there was nothing he could do about it now, anyway. He just had to wait until they got their hands on those potions.
Ignis woke the next morning with a mouth full of blood. Blood ran from his nose, too, and only sheer force of will got him out of the tent before he spat, coughing and wiping at his face with his forearms. His shirt, which he undid from around his waist, had become almost entirely damp with blood, still red and sticky and fresh. The gauze was completely soaked, oozing more blood even as Ignis inspected it, a sinking feeling in his gut. The flesh around the wound felt hard, extensively bruised and close to agonisingly painful.
It was dawn, just. Ignis sat down quickly as he realised how shaky his legs were, holding the soggy mess of his shirt to his side as hard as he could stomach. Poison, then. They didn’t have any antidotes, either, and how could he have got so lax in stocking their supplies? What if it’d been Noctis? Ignis closed his eyes and allowed for a moment to curse himself. Then he got up and poured himself some water, rinsing his mouth out and washing his face and side as best he could. He made up a glass with sugar and salt, too; the surest way to make blood loss far more serious than necessary was dehydration, and even though just the thought of drinking it set his stomach on edge, the alternative was worse.
His dirty clothes could go in the laundry, which no one but himself ever bothered with. He dressed the wound in abundant fresh gauze, bound as tight as he could with tape wrapped around his waist. After swallowing down the nausea that bubbled up with the pain, and checking to make sure it wasn’t bleeding through, he got dressed. Then Ignis sat down and ran through the options.
Telling everyone about the injury now would only make them worry, and worry wouldn’t get them to the needed supplies any quicker. It was embarrassing – it’d make him seem less capable of looking after himself. And it would make Noct feel even more guilty than he already did.
Pain and some bleeding weren’t going to do much more than make him uncomfortable, so long as the bleeding didn’t get any worse. If they were going to be spending the majority of their time in the Regalia then a bit of weakness wouldn’t matter either. He’d tell them if it got worse, but for now they didn’t need to know.
Ignis checked his watch. 5am. It’d be hours before the rest of them woke, much less woke enough to get mobilised.
Maybe he should try and get some more sleep. He could taste blood in his mouth again. It was leaking from the gums around his back teeth.
Well, better that than his front teeth, or lungs. Ignis sighed and propped his head on his palm, closing his eyes. He wasn’t fooling himself; this was likely a very serious condition. But that didn’t make his previous thoughts on the matter any less true – that all they needed to do was get to Hammerhead as soon as possible, and telling the others wouldn’t achieve that any better than if he didn’t tell them. He’d just have to make sure they didn’t get distracted on the way, or take any unnecessary detours.
It was entirely possible that he wasn’t thinking straight. Perhaps he should tell the others. But no. It would be fine.
Breathing hurt, like there was an inch-long nail buried in his side, shifting with each movement of his ribs. His breathing itself was oddly laboured, for all that he’d done nothing strenuous that morning. Ignis bit his lower lip and wished that he’d been able to recognise how serious this was before he’d persuaded Noct to use that last potion. Never mind. What was done was done. He’d ask Noct to drive, have a rest on the journey, and it would be all better by the time they got to Hammerhead, by mid-afternoon at the latest.
For now, he’d take a short nap and then get started on breakfast. Despite the warmth of the previous day it had turned chilly during the night, but at least it hadn’t rained, the ground dry and last evening’s clouds gone without the slightest sign they’d been there in the first place. The sky, stretching from darkest blue to the red dawn horizon, was clear and beautiful, still dotted with stars. It really was only too bad that Noct wasn’t awake and up to see it, Ignis thought.
Better not try climb back in the tent and risk not just disturbing his injury but waking all the others. Or, Prompto and Gladio, anyway. Ignis closed his eyes, tried to let his mind drift. Sleep eluded him. The pain in his side was edging ever closer to unbearable, and he had to swallow every now and then as his mouth continued to bleed. Blood tricked down his nose into the back of his throat.
Maybe he should give up on the idea of a nap and start on breakfast. He felt weak, and his heart was racing. He’d need the leisure to cook at a slower pace than normal, so perhaps it was good that he couldn’t sleep. Leave sleeping to the experts in the tent. The others had managed to finish off both their own and his remaining portion of the daggerquill rice, so leftovers was out of the question. Since, then, he had generous amounts of time, even given that he’d need to work slower, he could do scrambled eggs, perhaps, and those bread rolls that needed to be eaten. Dress the eggs up in some spices, chillies and tamarind, mint and coriander, and toast the rolls over the fire. Or since the eggs were fresh, poach them and let them stand on their own, save a touch of olive oil and lemon, salt and pepper, and served with the smoked meat of Noct’s latest catch.
The first glimpse of the sun made itself known on the horizon. Ignis got up and steeled himself as his head spun and his wound dug its agony deep into him, very almost sending him back into the chair. He would definitely be asking Noct to drive, then. And perhaps the smell of cooking would rouse the others before their natural emergence, so they could set off all the more quickly.
Ignis sighed as he started up the stove. Perhaps, but he didn’t have much faith in it.