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He stood waiting for long. Five minutes, ten minutes? He couldn't count. Time seemed to fly, as his mind seemed to blur perception with reality, while his eyes burned as if someone was putting coal onto his eyes. He had arrived at the Salient at a time where his peace-time self would be sleeping peacefully on his comfortable bed. He charged up a hill through a hail of gunfire, had his hands full of blood, his boots full of mud, witnessed the death of two of those he knew personally. His mentality had been stretched thin, and now the rubber was slashing back at him. He now found himself constantly needing the wall behind him as support, but finally when the guest he was waiting for finally arrived, he had to give himself a mental pat to straighten himself. He did have a lot to say to Lucia, but much of it was already said by Isaac. He was right. As much as Michael was in a physical decline right now, he still forced himself a smile for the girl, if she could ever see it through the veils of tears that she had. And with that veil of tears, she went into sleep, a temporary one among so many eternals. 

[color=bf00ff][I]'Dreams huh?'[/I][/color]

Would she appear in his dream too if he were to fall asleep right here, right now? Or would he drift away to a better world, a better place? A nightmare would have been an understatement if she appeared. He'd preferred to go to somewhere nice instead. Bruhl would be nice. He had been there once. The mills looked fantastic and the bread there was just second to none. He'd want to visit that again. But nothing could be compared to his home in Tyrelia, in that cozy mansion full of love and warmth of what was called a family, in the tight embrace of his mother, his frail, sickly yet brave and caring mother. It wasn't anything fancy like big cities, in fact sometimes a little dull and mundane, but he could never have it anywhere else than that. He only had that love once. He'd not go anywhere else. But then again, once he did drift away to sleep, once he woke up, it'd be nothing but disappointment as he'd come back to reality right now, a world of death where families are shattered, fathers burying their sons, mothers crying for their husbands, brothers and sisters torn apart, lives lost, deads forgotten. He'd rather just dreamt of nothing. Yeah, nothing. Just go to a place where his mind just shut itself off then come back, knowing nothing of what happened.  

Like Isaac would tell Lucia that the squad would be watching, the sapper did. He lost track of how many times his eyes blinked or slammed shut only to be forcibly opened, but he stood laying against that wall, standing outside of the trench, politely gesturing allied soldiers to leave the two alone if they didn't necessarily have to enter the trench. But as it was evident that she was already deep in her sleep, maybe he could get some too. But he'd rather wait for the officers to actually brief them of what was happening first. He'd not want a rest knowing he may still have something else he may have to do. 

For once he wandered into the trench that Lucia was staying. It really triggered his curiosity that the trench were designed in an interesting way to mitigate the effects of not just explosions, but also machine gun fire. In case of a trench raid, a straight trench with soldiers firing on the parapet would be a shooting gallery. But it was not the case for zigzagging trench. But that made the attack really nerve shattering in a way. You never know what would be on the other side of the wall. 

He turned a few corners as he peered into the parts of the Imperial trenches that he didn't know exist, and the commonly known part. It looked like fierce fighting broke out in this sector, as dead Imperials piled the lot. It was a little irritating to know that they weren't given the same treatment as the allied soldiers. It was to be expected really. Federations, Imperials, they never change. But they were nonetheless humans. Still, it looked like this part of the trench was untreated. 

[color=bf00ff]"Huh?"[/color]

That uniform. It's one of the Federations. The breathe of the man could not be heard that far, but very visible. As clear as days. It wasn't normal. And the distant look, the placement of his palm onto his chest, it didn't look good. 

Michael found himself compelled forward as he walked closer to the man. Upon closer inspection, he was a Darcsen just like Jean, with that trademark dark-blue hair. A badly wounded one. A bloodied hand on the chest that oozed blood slowly. 

[color=bf00ff]"My God..."[/color] 

He didn't need to ask 'Are you okay?', because he obviously wasn't. The short stride walk quickly turned into a run as he approached the man, knelt by him, his eyes did not leave the wounds, trying to recollect any memories he had of first aid.

[color=bf00ff][I]'Need to expose it.'[/I][/color]

He wasn't sure what the other steps were, but a wound should not be left piled up on a mound of dirtied cloth. 
[@CFProxy]