So much could happen to you in your sleep. So much of it could be good, and equally, so much of it could be bad. Marshall was never a fan of uncertainty; when he slept, he didn’t control his life, didn’t control his fate. It was an inconvenience he wasn’t fond of. So, waking up to a crash landing had soured his mood a fair degree. As soon as he was conscious, like a machine, he rolled through a self-diagnostic of his internal and external state. ‘[color=a187be][i]Internal... left arm is broken; stomach is punctured; several pieces of shrapnel, size range... indeterminate... There’s a threat of sepsis from my stomach leaking into my intestines...[/i][/color]’ he groaned a bit, and sat up. ‘[color=a187be][i]External... several... innumerable lacerations, varying bruises.... Risk of infections: dangerous.[/i][/color]’

Marshall sighed, ‘[color=a187be][i]I didn’t die...[/i][/color]’

Sitting up, Marshall ran his right hand over his stomach, and drew Selmia’s dagger. “[color=a187be]You’ve seen so much of me,[/color]” he says, before slitting open his abdomen, “[color=a187be]and, you’ll see a little more,[/color]” he started to dig out the shrapnel, and discard the metal bits to the ground. “[color=a187be]Astrals above, this stings...[/color]” he lamented, before sheathing the dagger away, and closing the wounds in his stomach. “[color=a187be]Now...[/color]” he unhooked his dagger sheath, and bit down on it. Reaching into his intestines, Marshall began to methodically scoop out stomach acid, materia, and the smaller shrapnel shards. “[color=a187be]Nnnnrrr...!!![/color]”

	After a few minutes, Marshall would finish up with the process, and spit out the dagger sheath. “[color=a187be]Shit...[/color]” he sighed, before grunting, as he stood up to start the outside healing processes. It was here that he would notice Poxanne’s presence, and frowned. Judging from her facial expression, she'd been there for a fair amount of time. “[color=a187be]Harvin, you...[/color]” he looked at her, another one, like her, “[color=a187be]I... don’t love...[/color]” he analyzed her, and took her in, “[color=a187be]...not yet.[/color]”

"[color=a187be]What's your name?[/color]"

[@The Irish Tree] & [@ShwiggityShwah]