ANGEL WITH A SHOTGUN ☆ injured

[wormwood.]

i was born, on the highway, in a train wreck

with a heart, that was beating, out of my chest

Everything is so fucking fuzzy. And loud. So awfully, dreadfully loud. One second he's laying there, the world spinning silently around him as static buzzed all around, and then suddenly there were so many voices. Abathur's first, sounding remarkably calm and requesting for him to move. Aurum made a soft noise at this, not particularly keen in getting up and pulling off something spectacular, but he knew it was for his own good. He shoved his paws underneath himself, intent on pushing up to his usual standing stance, however, this is much more effort than he remembered. Immediately he collapsed back down to the ground, letting out a low growl of pain as the open wound on his chest fell against the dirty ground. The proxy didn't have the chance to try again before Snarl was there, babbling and offering to go get someone. He didn't even truly feel annoyed at her, yet the speaking still caused his ears to flatten to his head, the pain making his usual gratefulness fade into the background. He had little chance to even process her offer of drugs before Kaz was on the scene, his loud and form voice cutting through the air and mangling the static that filled Aurum's ears. The lion listened wearily to what the other had to say, wanting to mumble something along the lines of calm down, but finding himself strangely tongue tied, just staring off to the side until he felt Kaz's firm touch against him, and he was being flipped over. He let out a hiss of agony through his teeth at the movement, willing himself not to squirm, when suddenly it was over, and he was staring up at the sky. All he managed to get out was a strained couple of words, the smell of blood suddenly very overwhelming in his nostrils, "...Thank you." For a moment, the proxy considered if he had been wrong about this not being his time, and if he would be rejoining Abram in heaven soon enough. He wasn't given much time to consider this either, however, because now Selby and Kiira were on the scene.

He let out a strained breath he hadn't known he was holding at the sight of the two, and he mumbled softly as they moved in close, his eye closing against his own will as he tried to ignore the sharp ache in his chest, "I... ugh. Selby, Kiira..." He wasn't sure exactly what he was trying to say, but his head was spinning and he was barely clinging to consciousness, so that wasn't exactly the wildest surprise in the world. The lion winced as he felt medicines and bandages beginning to touch the wound, and he tried his best to stay still, not wanting to give Abathur too much of a challenge despite the way his body wanted to recoil away. Once he opened his eye again, he looked around for a moment before mumbling, his paws resting against the ground and his claws digging firmly into the dirt, "Archangel... Uriel. Came down... he was so angry. Stabbed me... fucker. He's... dead now, but I don't... shit, Selb, am I gonna die?" He didn't sound particularly stressed about the prospect of dying, but that was mainly due to the fact that his lucidity was heavily mangled by the fact that he had already lost a lot of blood, and his mind was desperately attempting to process everything that was going on, along with all the voices that had appeared around him. He was grateful for everyone there, and had no doubt that the moment he was alright again he would be thanking them wholeheartedly, but... he wasn't sure when that would be.

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