forum Honestly I shouldn't be allowed to open rps. (Closed) (yes another one-on-one) (stalkers welcome!)

Started September 26, 2018 by @Dirt

tune

Zackary relaxed into his wings, which tensed up wall-like behind him.
"Yes, I'm fine. Don't worry, if you are."

"Oh, alright. We should probably get some shut eye, who knows what'll happen tomorrow." Afriel turned back on her side, facing the wall rather then Zackary.

Zackary made a faint noise in his throat, curled up into his wings again, shifting to get comfortable. He gazed idly at his black feathers, blanking out.

Afriel woke long before the sun, antisapation and anxiety getting to her. She wondered if she'd even go on the attack today, if it still happened that was. She milled around quietly, mainly going over stuff and staring at the wall of the tent.

Zackary had curled up into his wings, which complied for him nicely. It was hard to tell if he was up or not, considering she couldn’t hear a breathing pattern unless she stooped really close, and the wings were totally closed around him.

The sun finally peeked out, indicating sun rise. Afriel sighed and walked to the flap of the tent slipping out and going to sit at the edge of the camp.

Zackary stayed asleep until the sun was high in the sky. He stayed wrapped in his wings, poking his head out of them, gazing idly at the wall.

Afriel returned to the tent and looked down at Zackary, "you are awake, right?" She asked as she went and rolled up her bed roll to put it away.

Zackary glanced up at her. “I guess you could call it that. Why?”

"Because it late in the day?" Afriel glared at him. "Don't tell me you usually sleep this late."

Zackary set his head down. “‘M just tired today,” He mumbled this so quietly it qas pratically unheard by her.

Afriel sighed again and sat down, "I'm starting think bringing you here was a mistake." She mumbled. "Want a pear?"

Zackary pulled away from her, hearing her mumbled response. He curled back up into the ball of soft squishy vulnerability.
“‘M not hungry,” He finally mumbled.

"Is something wrong, Zackary?" Afriel tilted her head, watching him.

His wings closed protectively over him, shivering somewhat at the joints.
“‘M fine.”

"You don't look fine." Afriel poked one of his wings trying to get him to come out of his protective cocoon.

Zackary’s wings twitched when she poked them. “I am fine.”

"Are you sure?" Afriel continued her poking, "I'm not going to stop till you seem genuine."

His wing twitched again. His wings were fuzzy and warm, harshly opposing what Demon wings are like in war.
“I’m fineeee.”

"You're wings are soft." Afriel mumbled, her poking turning to patting. "And if somethings wrong you can tell me, we're friends."

His wings uncurled to enjoy being pat. Zackary gave a slight hissing noise and it returned back to its original state.
“I’m just tired. Nothing’s wrong.”

"Oh. Then sleep more?" She continued to pat his wing still amazed at the softness. After awhile her hand came to a rest and she pulled it back, "oh my gosh I'm so sorry, I don't know why- sorry." She scrambled to her feet to leave.

Zackary laid his wing out. “No. It’s fine.” He looked up at her. His face was paler than usual and he was shivering, despite his wings wrapped around himself.

"I- your wound, what's wrong? Zackary tell me." Afriel's voice went from its normal calm to hard and demanding, worry creeping it.

Zackary set his head down with another shiver. His other wing flopped pointlessly to his other side and laid limp there.

"Zackary?" Afriel knelt down by his head, "Zackary what's wrong?"

Zackary shut his eyes. He felt worn out and cold, yet far off was an offered warmth. He just had to go there, right?

"Get a medic!" Her shout desperate. Afriel held his face in her hands, "you can't freaking die, not like this. Zackary please!" The medic came running in, stopping short at the sight of the Demon. "I can't-" Afriel shot him a pleading look, the medic nodded his head and got to work. "Don't die on me." She whispered, "I can't lose you."

Zackary tried to twitch his wings out of the way but was unable to. His eyes fluttered slightly but he didn’t react to her calls.
Gore:
His wound hadn’t been tended to the previous night, as it was required by the sap, so the wound had came open again, since it was so little scabbed over. It had tracked fresh blood up his stomach and encrusted into his clothes and the belt of his pants thanks to the fetal position he was in.

The medic began by cleaning his wound, then stated with herbs, "I can't use my powers, that would be treason." The medics words stung. can't or won't? Afriel wanted to say, but didn't. The medic worked swiftly, finishing and dressing the wound, "this is all I can do, I'm sorry." The medic stood to leave. "Thank you." Afriel whispered, her voice shaky. Tears spilling over her eyes. "Zackary please don't die, I love you."