A Multifandom Asylum RPG

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Night 50: Forest
girlsandgadgets wrote in damned
[From here.]

The treeline was a welcome sight after the long trek from the quarry, the cold winds fighting the pair the entire time, trying to push them back into the relative protection of the institution's walls. The building may have provided refuge from the elements, but the horrors within had been worse than anything they'd seen outside thus far. The night had yielded some unexpected finds and locations for future endeavors; however, exploring the outer grounds while so injured might not have been their best idea.

The weather certainly didn't make their exploration any easier- the biting air made breathing painful, and Edgar was dealing with enough pain as it was. He walked a few steps ahead of Gren as they entered the forest, using his shovel as a staff as he reached beneath his jacket and put a hand on his shoulder, trying to think of anything but the steady throbbing from the injury beneath the bandages. The claw marks in his leg weren't nearly as problematic. There was no conversation to distract him- Landel had made sure of that. Concentrating on the shadows surrounding them was more difficult with every step. He felt sluggish, his breath labored and uncomfortably ragged.

Edgar stopped as they neared a clearing, leaning momentarily against a tree and taking a few steady breaths. He did his best to look composed, but couldn't help but feel spoiled by the armor and abundance of medicines provided in Figaro; without them, he had to rely on sheer endurance. It was a battle that left him feeling weak and entirely too vulnerable for his tastes.

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Gren was grateful when Edgar seemed to agree with his choice... he was sure the man had weighed the options himself and while it wasn't an ideal situation, it was probably better for the both of them. He kept an eye out as they headed for the trees, still wary of anything that might be lurking around in such a blighted landscape. The wind was picking up, and while it stung his face, Gren didn't pay much attention to it. Years ago, it might have registered that it was becoming bitterly cold, but he'd spent the last three years on Callisto, where a day above freezing was a fairytale, and the cold was a constant companion. Compared to that, the weather here was fairly balmy, though he wasn't completely immune. He stuffed his free hand into the pocket of his pants, vaguely wishing for a pair of gloves.

As they entered the cover of the forest, however, it was hard not to notice that Edgar was having an increasingly difficult time of it. The man seemed to be dragging himself forward by force of will, which was something Gren had been hoping to avoid. If he'd known that communication was going to be severed like it had been, he never would have agreed to go over the wall. As it was, he found himself wondering how he'd get his roommate back, if worse came to worst. His arm was in better shape, but it was still torn up, and Edgar was just as tall as he was. The chances that he'd be able to lug the blond all the way back seemed slim.

He was just about to say something--just to get his attention--when Edgar stopped, leaning against a nearby tree. He almost asked if he wanted to rest for awhile before he remembered how futile it would be. Instead, he stopped as well, leaning against the trunk of an adjacent tree, making it clear that he was going to take a break from walking, himself. His health was better than he'd suspected, though he was pretty sure he'd be feeling every inch of their explorations in the morning. At least now he had a better gauge of his own limitations. He just had to hope that Edgar realized his own, and didn't push ahead out of stubbornness. They'd made good progress, and there would be no shame in turning back.

A few minutes of silence passed, giving Edgar a chance to rest. The dense trees managed to keep some of the winds at bay, though the temperature was still far too low for his liking. His mind traveled to Figaro- the warmth of the air, the warmth of the people, stone walls, fireplaces, the desert sun, clothing that was both attractive and practical- he couldn't help but think of his home when the situation seemed bleak.

He sighed, pushing from the tree before giving Gren a small nod. Edgar decided he must have looked as ill as he felt if Gren could tell he'd needed a moment. So much for composure. He walked steadily ahead- there would be no going home if he let a shoulder injury bring their exploration to a halt.

Passing the next set of trees revealed a river, flowing from the hills into a winding path through the forest. Edgar knelt by the bank, trying to peer into the water with his flashlight- he had no luck seeing the bottom in the darkness. He turned, shaking his head. There was no feasible way he could cross in his condition. The cold was already a problem; being soaked to the bone would do no good.

Unwilling to give up so soon, he headed downstream. It looked like the forest opened into another area- while they'd be losing the cover of the trees, there was a chance they'd find a bridge or a shallow area to cross.

[To here.]

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