[ a part of him always assumed that when he died, it would be after being blown up in the vacuum of space. so fast he wouldn't even know what hit him (literally). wouldn't feel anything.
he wished he'd been right about that.
he never really considered what being hit with a blaster that wasn't set to stun was like, either. being stunned didn't feel great, but there wasn't much to feel before you went unconscious and, again, felt nothing at all.
there wasn't much blood, barely any blood. just a small blackened crater of an entry point in his side — blackened leather hiding a blackened shirt hiding a dampened but mostly cauterized wound. it didn't go clear through him, but maybe it would have felt better if it did. instead, the bolt went deep enough to create a mess of fused bone, muscle, and tissue before dissipating.
it HURTS. a lot. he's on the ground, he wants to scramble to a safer place, away from the fighting, but he can't. he's more busy fighting his own personal battle against going into shock. if he could focus, if he could pull it together for just one second —
suddenly, jasmine's hovering over him. she helps, a little bit. gives him something to focus on. a reason to fight through it. ]
Hey. Hey. [ shakily: ] Look, it's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay.
[ comforting others tends to be his first urge. ... but he'd never been a very good liar. nothing about him radiates "okay"; his skin is pale and clammy and his breath comes out in shudders. ]
it's all good! 💜
he wished he'd been right about that.
he never really considered what being hit with a blaster that wasn't set to stun was like, either. being stunned didn't feel great, but there wasn't much to feel before you went unconscious and, again, felt nothing at all.
there wasn't much blood, barely any blood. just a small blackened crater of an entry point in his side — blackened leather hiding a blackened shirt hiding a dampened but mostly cauterized wound. it didn't go clear through him, but maybe it would have felt better if it did. instead, the bolt went deep enough to create a mess of fused bone, muscle, and tissue before dissipating.
it HURTS. a lot. he's on the ground, he wants to scramble to a safer place, away from the fighting, but he can't. he's more busy fighting his own personal battle against going into shock. if he could focus, if he could pull it together for just one second —
suddenly, jasmine's hovering over him. she helps, a little bit. gives him something to focus on. a reason to fight through it. ]
Hey. Hey. [ shakily: ] Look, it's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay.
[ comforting others tends to be his first urge. ... but he'd never been a very good liar. nothing about him radiates "okay"; his skin is pale and clammy and his breath comes out in shudders. ]