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31_days2018-01-31 06:43 pm
bane-6.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2018-01-31 06:43 pm
Amnesty Day! [January 28] [Overwatch] Just and Unjust
Title: Just and Unjust
Day/Theme: 28. The glorious, golden, glad sun
Series: Overwatch
Character/Pairing: Roadhog
Rating:PG
Everything hurt. Everything under the sun. There was only enough shade in the rocks to get his head in, but it was better than nothing. The sun still beat down on the rest of his body, baking him brown and making his scars and tattoo stand out all the more. His countless injuries throbbed with his heartbeat or in their own counterpoint. He fumbled for another canister and took a deep breath of the healing gas.
It hadn’t gotten to his flesh wounds yet, which meant it was busy healing internal damage. He had been too close to the explosion. He probably had bones broken by the concussion blasts and ruptured organs galore. At least he wasn’t tasting blood anymore. He didn’t try to move. He lay still and let the gas do its work.
And all the while the sun beamed down. He squinted at it and even through the gas mask lenses it was brutally bright. It was supposed to be the rain that fell on the just and the unjust, but here in the Wasteland, it was the sun. It didn’t care what they suffered beneath it. It would burn him red and let him blister and peel and keep on burning him until the very flesh shriveled away. When all that was left of him was leather and bone, it would keep on until he was bleached white and brittle. The sun didn’t care.
He took another canister and huffed it down and finally, the shrapnel started to work its way out. The cuts and peeled away skin started to seal back together. His tattoo was still in one piece. That was something. He took a deep breath and let it out, not feeling any new or sudden pains.
He had been there longer than he thought. The sun had moved and so had the shade. It was over his chest now. If he laid there long enough, the unblinking eye in the sky would sink out of sight and let blessed coolness and dark fall over him.
It would be back soon enough, he knew, but so would his strength and he would be ready for round two thousand and whatever. He took another deep breath and there was less pain this time. He really was going to be all right. He could get up and go look for Junkrat. It was too quiet for Junkrat to be close by, which meant either dead or unconscious or out of hearing range. It could also mean the blast had taken out his eardrums, but he could hear his own raspy breathing, so that wasn’t it.
He took a few more breaths just to make sure all was in working order, then slowly got back to his feet. The sun hit the back of his head with a vengeance and he raised a hand to feel it on his hair. Anyone else would curl back into the shade and wait until the day wasn’t such a vicious onslaught. But the sun wasn’t the only one that went on no matter what. He turned and started back towards the smoking wreckage with his shadow long and wide ahead of him.
Day/Theme: 28. The glorious, golden, glad sun
Series: Overwatch
Character/Pairing: Roadhog
Rating:PG
Everything hurt. Everything under the sun. There was only enough shade in the rocks to get his head in, but it was better than nothing. The sun still beat down on the rest of his body, baking him brown and making his scars and tattoo stand out all the more. His countless injuries throbbed with his heartbeat or in their own counterpoint. He fumbled for another canister and took a deep breath of the healing gas.
It hadn’t gotten to his flesh wounds yet, which meant it was busy healing internal damage. He had been too close to the explosion. He probably had bones broken by the concussion blasts and ruptured organs galore. At least he wasn’t tasting blood anymore. He didn’t try to move. He lay still and let the gas do its work.
And all the while the sun beamed down. He squinted at it and even through the gas mask lenses it was brutally bright. It was supposed to be the rain that fell on the just and the unjust, but here in the Wasteland, it was the sun. It didn’t care what they suffered beneath it. It would burn him red and let him blister and peel and keep on burning him until the very flesh shriveled away. When all that was left of him was leather and bone, it would keep on until he was bleached white and brittle. The sun didn’t care.
He took another canister and huffed it down and finally, the shrapnel started to work its way out. The cuts and peeled away skin started to seal back together. His tattoo was still in one piece. That was something. He took a deep breath and let it out, not feeling any new or sudden pains.
He had been there longer than he thought. The sun had moved and so had the shade. It was over his chest now. If he laid there long enough, the unblinking eye in the sky would sink out of sight and let blessed coolness and dark fall over him.
It would be back soon enough, he knew, but so would his strength and he would be ready for round two thousand and whatever. He took another deep breath and there was less pain this time. He really was going to be all right. He could get up and go look for Junkrat. It was too quiet for Junkrat to be close by, which meant either dead or unconscious or out of hearing range. It could also mean the blast had taken out his eardrums, but he could hear his own raspy breathing, so that wasn’t it.
He took a few more breaths just to make sure all was in working order, then slowly got back to his feet. The sun hit the back of his head with a vengeance and he raised a hand to feel it on his hair. Anyone else would curl back into the shade and wait until the day wasn’t such a vicious onslaught. But the sun wasn’t the only one that went on no matter what. He turned and started back towards the smoking wreckage with his shadow long and wide ahead of him.