Trash Panda

Amnesia [Suki & Summer]

Nice, haha. I just got out of a video call with my professor, so I can work on a reply now ^^

Amnesia [Suki & Summer]

I liked it! Also poor Cas doesn't know the first thing about injuries, haha

Amnesia [Suki & Summer]

Regis’s laugh sounded maniacal to Cas. He shuddered but held his ground. Even if the man was mad, he wasn’t going to roll over and die without a fight. From what he could tell, he had the advantage now. The rebel leader’s weapon was still embedded in his arm, and he had managed to get on his feet with enough distance between them to brace himself for another attack. If the older man tried to come at him again, he was going to be ready. He just needed to last long enough to find a second chance to go for the open window anyway.

When Regis went for the chair, the prince’s eyes widened. The rebel was craftier than he’d thought, but it wasn’t over yet. He eyed the splintered pole in his hand. It looked like he was going to try to lunge at him like the rod was a spear. He just had to dodge the first strike and throw a blow in return once the older man was within reach. Feeling more confident with the plan he’d come up with, he tensed his legs to jump to the side like a matador with a bull, but just as Regis launched himself at him, they both froze as Iris jumped in the middle of the fight.

Cas stared at her in shock. He’d thought she was just pretending to care when she’d said she wouldn’t let her father kill him, but it was starting to seem like she’d been telling the truth after all. Of course, that didn’t mean she was his ally, but at least for now, she’d proven that she wasn’t on board with the leader’s decision to have him killed. Or so he thought. As Regis said that his execution was only a few hours away and she didn’t balk, his short-lived hope was dashed, and he averted his gaze, breathing heavily from a mixture of adrenaline and exertion. She had probably intervened to keep her father safe now that they were about to brawl on a more level playing field.

He watched in dismay as Regis covered up the window with a more secure fastening and left the room with his daughter in tow. There went his chance of getting out of his prison before the rebels killed him. In the quiet of the basement, he sank to his knees, suddenly overwhelmed with the reality of what had just happened. He’d been within seconds of escaping, but his captor had found him, beaten him, and left him to await a grisly fate at the hands of the crown’s enemies. With only a few hours left and his only way out sealed with a padlock, he didn’t have another way to get out. He was trapped unless, by some miracle, his father’s soldiers found him before he was murdered.

Fat chance, he thought dismally, sucking in his breath as his injured arm smarted. For a few minutes, he’d forgotten about the pain, but now that there were no more distractions, he was aware of how badly he’d been injured. He glanced down to examine the damage. In the dark, it was difficult to see anything other than the outline of the grip but knowing that there was a knife in his flesh made him feel sick. He rocked back on his heels, unsure what to do. It wasn’t like he had a first aid kit lying around to treat the puncture—not that he would have known how to use it. He didn’t know the first thing about taking care of serious injuries.

With a sigh, he leaned back against the wall and stretched his legs out in front of him. It didn’t matter anyway. He was going to be dead in a few hours, so there was no reason to try to do anything about the gash. He wouldn’t even see tomorrow, let alone enough days to heal from something this severe. Might as well get the damn knife out, he winced as the injury sent another wave of pain through his arm and torso. Reaching up, he grabbed the blade by the grip and took a deep breath just before giving it a sharp tug. As it slid loose, a whimper escaped his lips, and he gritted his teeth to keep from making a sound loud enough for the rebels upstairs to hear. Removing the pocketknife hurt more than he’d thought it would.

He tossed the weapon aside and leaned his head back against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to will the pain to pass. A few seconds passed, but instead of the discomfort easing up, he startled at the feeling of something warm flowing down his arm. “Shit, shit, shit,” he hissed, hurriedly pressing his opposite hand down over his bicep. Too late, he discovered that pulling the blade out had been a bad idea. Now, the open wound was freely bleeding, painting streams of crimson down the length of his forearm.

Maybe the rebels won’t kill me, he thought morbidly, his heart pounding as his hand came away coated in viscous blood. They can’t do it if I bleed out in my cell first… God, what a way to go…

Amnesia [Suki & Summer]

If Regis comes at him again, they'd probably end up in a fist fight. Adrenaline is a magical drug that makes people forget how much pain they're in when they're in danger xD Cas would definitely defend himself this time.

Amnesia [Suki & Summer]

Same cx Cas just learned how to tap into his fight or flight instincts. I figured it would be more realistic for him to at least try to fight back, since he's young and in good physical shape. He was fumbling at first because he was caught off guard, but he would most likely be stronger than Regis because of his age and condition

Can't wait for the next part!

Amnesia [Suki & Summer]

Caspian had barely pulled his shoulders through the window when he felt a firm hand grasp him by the ankle and yank. He tried to hang onto something outside to keep from being jerked back into the basement, but there wasn’t anything close enough that he could grab. With no time to kick at Regis’s hands, he inhaled sharply as the rebel dragged him back through the opening. However, his adrenaline had already spiked with the prospect of getting away from his captors, so he quickly swung his legs to get his feet underneath him as he fell back down the wall. He managed to land on the chair with one foot, but he missed with the other and blanched as he stumbled and fell to the ground, knocking the chair over with him. The corner of the backrest struck him in the side on his way down, just beneath the ribcage, and he gasped, clutching at his side with his hand. It had hit hard, and he had to bite his lip to keep from groaning in pain. He didn’t have time to nurse the bruise. Not as long as there was a violent man standing over him.

While he scrambled to turn around and face Regis, his mind was racing at lightspeed. He couldn’t believe that he’d gotten so close to freedom, only to be caught red handed by Iris’s alcoholic father. He had come too far to lose his chance now. He had to get away. His life was on the line. Flipping over from his knees to his rear, he tensed to stand up but didn’t get the chance before the rebel’s boot crashed into his stomach, knocking the wind from his lungs. He fell backwards under the weight of the blow, his head hitting the wall, and rolled onto his side with his legs pulled to his chest, coughing as he tried to get his breath back. The pain from the stomp seemed to resonate through his whole body, and even though he knew he was in danger, he found it difficult to move.

Regis didn’t give him a choice. As the older man pulled him up by the hair, Cas grimaced, grasping at his arm with both hands. The rebel leader was surprisingly strong for a man his age. Though he tried to fight back, he found it difficult not to stumble after him back into the cell. The best he could do was try to plant his feet until the pain of his hair being ripped from his scalp became too overwhelming, and he folded, only staggering away from Regis once he finally let go of him. The rebel’s threat to kill him was suddenly very authentic as the gravity of the situation hit him, and he tried to run past him on the left, fueled by his will to live in the midst of the aching in his torso and head. He wasn’t much of a fighter—with no prior experience, he had no idea how to fight back—but he still had two good legs. Attempting to flee was his Hail Mary, but he didn’t get further than two steps before his breath fled from his lungs again, and he doubled over, reeling from a punch to the gut.

Before he even had a chance to recover his breath, Iris’s father fell upon him like a lion, pinning his arms and dealing two more blows to his middle that brought the prince to his knees. He gagged, his chest heaving as he desperately tried to breathe. He was getting dizzy from a lack of oxygen, but he couldn’t let himself pass out. He wasn’t going to give up when this man was trying to kill him. Shakily, he started to rise to his feet again, only to drop one more time when Regis’s fist connected with his jaw. The strike made his vision swim, and he couldn’t stifle the breathless gasp that escaped his lips. He wasn’t ready to die, but the rebel wasn’t giving him a chance to fight back. Every time he made a move to get up from the floor, he was knocked back over. He couldn’t get out from underneath Regis’s thumb.

As the rebel threatened to kill him now, Cas felt cold dread shoot up his spine. This time, when Regis pushed him back up to his feet, he cocked back an arm to swing at him, but the older man was faster. He grunted as he was shoved back against the wall with a hand coiled around his throat. Regis’s fingers dug into his skin, and he let out a strangled gasp when he realized he couldn’t breathe. The rebel was choking him. Frantically, he writhed beneath his captor’s iron grip and clawed at his wrists, trying to push him away so that he could draw breath. He even tried stomping on his feet and shoving him away to no avail. He could feel his strength ebbing away as the seconds passed and he still couldn’t breathe. Fear gripped him, and his empty lungs burned. He wasn’t going to give up without a fight though, so he continued to struggle until he succeeded in pushing Regis away just enough to inhale—only to lose all the air he’d just sucked in when the rebel buried his knife in his arm.

A scream tore at his throat as the blade plunged into his bicep up to the grip. Having never been hurt worse than a fractured bone in his life, he’d never felt a burning pain like this before. He froze in shock, all fight momentarily leaving his body as the terror took over. Then, Regis twisted the knife, and he let out a second howl even louder than the first. The feeling of the blade rending tissue and muscle was enough to make his legs feel weak, but he didn’t fall. Instead, he threw a punch at the rebel’s face to knock him away and staggered to the side, trying to put as much distance between them as he could while he clutched his bleeding arm.

“Stay away from me!” he snarled, glowering at the rebel with the viciousness of a cornered animal. A switch had flipped when Iris’s father had stabbed him. He stood rigidly, prepared to do whatever it took to stay alive. He wasn’t going to be murdered by a madman in a cage. Not today, not ever. It didn’t matter that he had never been in a fight before or that he had no idea what he was doing. Even if he didn’t have any technical knowledge, there was something inside all humans that gave them the fight to live, and he was no exception. His limbs trembled with adrenaline, and there was a feral gleam in his eyes that indicated that if Regis came at him again, he wasn’t going to let him stomp all over him again. He may not have been as experienced, but he was younger and stronger than the rebel. Now that he’d had time to regain his footing, he refused to go down a second time.

Let Me Steal Your Heart [BuzzingBee + Dagger]

Crow backed Otto into a corner this time xD

Let Me Steal Your Heart [BuzzingBee + Dagger]

Crow merely nodded when Penelope compared this inn to the one they had stayed at in Sarton. As they sat down at the table, he could still feel the phantom of his horse’s sway, and it almost felt like the bench itself was moving. He sighed and leaned his forearms on the wooden surface. Although he wasn’t as sore as he had been the first time he’d ridden the large beasts two years ago, he still wasn’t used to sitting atop Baine’s back for long periods of time. He hoped the echoic effect would wear off after a few more days of traveling or else he might be too disoriented to walk in a straight line by the time they reached the Younisian castle.

As the conversation turned to the peasants that were staying at the lodge, he glanced at the two knights but didn’t offer his theory. Most likely, the commoners here had been clever enough to keep money hidden from the king, which was an offense that was punishable by death. At least, the tax collectors always claimed it was. He trusted that Penelope wouldn’t tell anyone if he hinted to her that the people sitting around them were probably hoarders, but he didn’t know how Naida would react. He believed his sister was a good person, but she was Albin’s daughter, born and raised in the inner kingdom. If she was loyal to the royal family, she might tell their father that some of the villagers weren’t paying their dues.

Whether she would have leaked the information back to the king or not, it turned out to have been a good thing that Crow had kept his mouth shut. In the next moment, he heard Otto’s voice behind him. He peered over his shoulder to watch as the baron joined them at the table. Even if Naida wouldn’t tell Albin about the peasants at the inn, the man across from him now definitely would. He shuffled his feet beneath the table, his green eyes flicking between the nearest group of peasants and the older knight, who complained openly about the inconvenience they were being caused because of the commoner crowds. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Otto demanded that they should be given priority for a large room because they were of higher status than the other people at the inn. The thought of separating a large family of villagers made him grimace, and he shook his head.

“I’ve slept on prison stone before, so I can handle one night on the floor,” he volunteered. “Naida and Penelope can have one bed, and you and Rayner can take the other. The rest of us will just have to make do without a mattress.”

Otto frowned, “With all due respect—”

“I’m not arguing about this,” the viceroy crossed his arms defiantly. “You had your way last time, so now I think it’s my turn.” As he spoke, he glanced over his shoulder again to see that Preston and Percival had arrived from the stables. With a victorious glint in his eye, he called to them before the baron could get another word in: “Looks like we’ve only got two beds tonight, boys, so the ladies will get one, and our senior will have the other. What do you think?”

“That’s fine with me,” Percival shrugged, taking a seat beside Naida while Preston sat next to Crow.

“The same goes for me,” the servant agreed.

“Looks like we’ve got our sleeping arrangements for the night then, huh?” the former thief turned back to Otto and winked, knowing fully well that the older man couldn’t fight back when he’d based his decision on the laws of chivalry, which all knights were supposed to embrace.

Amnesia [Suki & Summer]

Nice! I'm excited to get started on a reply. This is all new to Cas, since he's never even been in a fight before, so it'll be interesting to write out everything going on inside his head.

Amnesia [Suki & Summer]

Aw man. I feel bad for everyone I know with an April birthday because of this dang virus ^^; My husband got lucky. His was the first week of March, so he got to celebrate right before everything started getting shut down. I'm not until November, so I'm hoping it's cleared up before then!

They're going well! I'm about 50% done with my big capstone project now. I might even finish a little early because I have 4 or 5 more weeks left before the construction document set is due.