¢нαρтєя тωσ

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¢нαρтєя тωσ

The pain that circulated in Shiro's head was becoming too much for him to bear. It felt like the air in the atmosphere was compressing his brain, suffocating it almost.

"He's running a fever." a voice said, followed by the feeling of an icy, cold cloth being applied to Shiro's forehead. A quiet breath parted him, the coldness being the only thing telling him that he was still alive. As he tried to move, a stinging sensation caused him to whimper, the same voice he had heard before consoling him.

"Shhh, shhh. There, there, young Paladin." Thace spoke gently, not wanting to cause Shiro any kind of unneeded distress. "Your physical wounds will take a matter of days to heal, but I imagine the mental injuries will take time."

"How's he doing, T?" Rolo asked, leaning his head back against the wall. "Fuck, this all my fault."

Thace turned to face him, raising an eyebrow.

"Your fault? Why would this be your fault, Rolo? You didn't ask for this poor man to get injured."

"I know, I know. Of course I didn't ask for this, I would never have asked for this. If it were the old me talking, then I probably wouldn't have cared. But the old me is gone, and that's the truth."

Rolo sat in the chair beside Shiro's bedside, eyeing him apologetically. He buried his face into his hand, sighing and shaking his head lightly.

Everything seemed to be on his shoulders.

I'm so sorry, Shiro. I never should have accepted Prorok's offer. If you don't want to forgive me, I understand, but just know that I am sorry.

"Don't blame yourself, Rolo." Nyma said, resting her hand on her friend's shoulder. "It's my fault this happened too. If Beezer were here, I think he'd agree."

Rolo lifted his head up, saddened at the mention of the cyber-unit's name. Beezer didn't make it, a horrific image that had been planted in his mind reminding him of that fact.

"I'm sure he would."

Thace got to work on stitching Shiro's arm, cutting away at the black fabric and frowning at the sight of a bleeding wound. The young adult male was merely a child in the Galra's eyes, but he could sense his fighting spirit was a strong one for his age.

Though, as he examined the fairly large cut closely, Thace could see that there was no kind of claw mark or anything to indicate a Galra had injured Shiro. It looked far too uneven, and the wound would have sunk a lot deeper into his skin.

I was wrong in my assumption, Thace thought to himself, dabbing a cotton ball into some antiseptic fluid and applying it to Shiro's arm. The man tensed up at first, but quickly relaxed. This is not the act of a vicious Galra, he was hurt in another way. If he was wearing the Black Paladin armour, that means his Lion must be somewhere nearby. When he is well enough, I will ask him if he remembers were it is. It cannot fall into the hands of Zarkon.

"He's sweating really badly," Nyma said, touching Shiro's cheek with the back of her hand, wiping it on her long skirt afterwards. "what kind of fever do you think this is, Thace?"

"It's nothing to be concerned about, Nyma." Thace reassured her, making the first stitch. "I have seen this fever many times before. He will make a full recovery."

"That's good." Nyma said, sighing with relief. "I'll make him something to eat when he wakes up, the poor guy must be starving."

"That is kind of you, child, but you do not need to worry yourself with such a task. I will take care of it; I know just the thing for a fever."

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