• 21 •

62 9 55
                                    

Aksel's POV

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

Aksel's POV

"What do you mean you can't find her?" Aksel's voice sounded rough to his ears and his chest felt like an elephant was ripping through it with his giant tusks.

Mihram's voice carried from his kitchen as he made some broth for dinner. "I mean," he said as he entered the small living room with two wooden bowls in his hand, steaming with what seemed to be a meat and vegetable broth. "She's not at your place or at the docks. She probably ran away after completing the job." He said as he placed one of the bowls on the small circle side table by the couch Aksel was lying on and then settled in to the armchair.

Aksel made to right himself up, with a groan. Mihram made a concerned noise as he stood up to make him lie back down. Aksel just waved him away making him sit back. "I'm fine." He said as he ran a hand over the tender aching spot over his chest. Mihram had brought him over to his house which was a couple blocks away from the docks and the warehouse. He had been worried that someone would come looking to finish the job. Even though deep down Aksel felt the need to praise him for making the call to relocate them, now he was stuck away hiding in Mihram's house when Desa was out there.

Mihram threw a 'you're not fooling me' look over at him. "You are the furthest thing from fine right now." He kept feeding himself spoons of broth as he talked. "You lost so much blood that it's a miracle you didn't die, let alone wake up right now." He said tiredly. Aksel could see the shadows underneath his friend's eyes. He had been up for most of these past three days taking care of him. Forcing water and food down his throat, keeping his temperature down by applying cold presses wash cloths and re-dressing his wound.

It had killed Aksel more than the wound to lie there and let Mihram take care of him. It had been always the other way around. Mihram was like his little brother, he was supposed to take care of him. Every time he saw him look at his wound with a concerned gaze, he felt immense guilt for making him worry.

When Mihram had found him in his apartment, bleeding on the floor of his hall, Aksel had been trying the ideas he had for using his bending for healing as he read through the book 'Healing Through Water'. It wasn't pretty, trying to bend while in pain and he definitely needed work but he had been right. Aksel could bend his own blood, which mostly compromised of liquid despite the small non water molecules and he could stop the bleeding just enough that his elven healing kicked into place and started slowly closing up the wound.

It was hard to manage a balance in order to not stop his whole circulation but just so most of it wouldn't leave through the open gashing wound. His platelets would start to aggregate and stop the bleeding themselves but it was a slow process, and the wound was so deep that he actually needed to constantly have a grip over the torn arteries so he didn't have any internal bleeding.

He had eventually passed out from trying to bend with a heavy loss of blood and woken up in between to have Mihram stitch his chest or force feed him or make him drink water. Aksel couldn't stay awake too long before his whole body demanded him to sleep for faster recovery. He had only woken up today and felt like his head was finally clear of this haze.

A Promise of DeathWhere stories live. Discover now