If you prick us, do we not bleed? [open]

[godimgood.livejournal.com]

In some ways fainting had been a blessing to Chaucer. Medically, it was nothing but a nightmare, but he hadn't had to deal with the doctors or healers, or whoever had patched him up in the end. Whoever it was had done a brilliant job; Geoff had been terrified that he'd lose his arm at the very least, probably die. Instead he'd woken up to a splint and some heavy sort of wrapping. He couldn't move his arm, but it wasn't missing. A few minutes of checking it over had passed before he'd even noticed the odd pulling in his side and noticed the bandages there.

The relative lack of pain was a marvel in itself.

He needed to find out who had helped him, thank them, eventually. When he got out of the medbay. For now he was propped up slightly in his bed, struggling with the stylus for his comm. Left-handed writing was ridiculously difficult, made even more awkward by the unfamiliarity of the surface, but it was something to do. A way to write Philippa, one he could transcribe into legibility later.

Comments

[godimgood.livejournal.com]

"That sounds... unpleasant," Geoff offered, feeling slightly awkward and trying not to let his unease well up again at the mention of anything eldritch. "What was your sin?"

[forced-unlife.livejournal.com]

"My sin ... was not dying before my kingdom."

[godimgood.livejournal.com]

"I see."

What?

[forced-unlife.livejournal.com]

"I know not how the gods work in thy realm, but in mine own they are very real, and sometimes they grant boons and strengths to followers. I was a servant of Tyr, and one of his dominions was that of the oath, of duty.

"I was a king, many centuries ago..." What Khel recited (http://forced-unlife.livejournal.com/profile) next was a concise history of what happened to him, and of his broken vow and of his spirit's raising.

"Now I live an unlife, bound to these bones until the day comes when I have atoned for my sin."