Rakka's P.O.V.
It hurt to move. Pain laced my body, smothering me like a thick, numbing fog. Every inch of me felt bruised, battered, beaten as though a mountain had fallen on me. It took several minutes of disoriented half-consciousness to realize one probably had. Vale . . . Aleph . . . the . . . Sun . . . The bits of information snagged themselves in the pounding, stumbling mess that was my head. A small lucid portion of my mind attributed this to backlash from my attempted Retreat from the mountain's summit and idly wondered whether I had ever made it off that forsaken peak.
I shoved myself from the ground. Pinprick stars danced about the edges of my vision, framing the blurred scene of dulled blue, green, grey that my eyes ensnared. My head swum, throbbed, as a wave of dizziness and nausea engulfed me. Golden Sun . . . Vale! my mind screamed at me, and for some reason I could not remember my heart sank at this thought, impacting squarely with my already tormented stomach. It heaved at the abuse, and I was violently sick onto the cold stone and dirt.
When the heaving finally stopped I felt almost human, but an incomprehensible feeling of weakness flooded my body. I collapsed sideways from my hands and knees, barely avoiding the pool of vomit, and lay panting. Another thought nagged at my mind, something of . . . someone? Was there someone with me? Someone . . . I had said I would save? Alex! The name blazed in my mind, accompanied by an emotion I in my delirious state could not decipher. All I could remember was that he had been with me and I had intended to save him.
I forced myself to my hands and knees once more, moving slowly to appease my body into cooperation as I searched for the man who had accompanied me. He couldn't have gone far, I thought half-lucidly. Or did I lose him altogether? Or did . . . My eyes had yet to focus properly, and my vision was yet a mass of glowing blue-green lights. Perhaps had Alex's garments and appearance not blended so easily with the phosphorescence around me I would have found him sooner; as it was, I'm certain I must have crawled past his prone body a half-dozen times before I my eyesight adapted well enough to discern him from the surrounding shapes.
Once my head had cleared and sane thoughts returned to my mind, I immediately regretted my next decision. Upon reflection now, however, I realize what I did may have been for the best, despite my reservations toward the water adept. In either case, what I did then I did on instinct, and it at the very least gave me hope for my true character.
My immediate reaction was one of dulled horror, for the figure before me seemed immobile, lifeless. I reached a groping hand for his and almost pulled away immediately, for it was cold and damp to the touch, as a newly-dead fish. A trickle of something dark stained the flesh by his lips, and in the odd, pulsating lighting he seemed empty of the colors of life. I shuddered, afraid I would be sick again, and swallowed weakly, but clamped my fingers tight against his wrist in search of a pulse.
After what seemed like a horrified eternity I felt the veins thrum, weakly, but rhythmically, and a confused sigh flowed from me. I forced myself to kneel beside him, determined to care for my charge as I had, to my memory, promised. The fact that much of my Psynergy had been wasted on my ill-fated escape attempt didn't phase me; in fact, I don't believe I even noticed as I held leaden hands outstretched over his chest. The healer aspect of my Venus nature took over, noting each inconsistency of his body, each cut, bruise, broken bone, preparing to heal each injury. As I exercised my talent my head began to throb more distinctly and I ignored it, annoyed at the lack of cooperation my body was providing me in my endeavors.
Now intent on its task my Psynergy flowed through me, incorporating itself into the patterns of curing I had long ago discovered. It was slow work, and I soon found myself forcing the energy from my body, unaware my stores were so low. My brow became slick with sweat that trickled down my face, blurring my vision, but I dared not rest from my task to wipe it away lest I be unable to bring myself to begin again. Slowly bones knit, gashes closed, bruises healed.
The pain in my head was almost unbearable as it throbbed in tune with my pounding heart, but the pain was rewarded as the man's eyes stumbled open, lids lifting slowly, squeezing shut once more, then opening in a squint. A trickle of sweat dripped from my face to splatter on Alex's shirt, staining it dull red in the flickering light. He stared at me through squinting eyes, first in incomprehension, then slowly disbelief. His mouth worked slowly, and he noted astutely, " . . . You're bleeding."
The scene swayed giddily around me. I vaguely heard what he said, but had suddenly become fascinated with the growing stain on Alex's deep-blue vest. Staining it dull red . . . dull . . . red . . . I lifted a hand to my forehead, touching it gingerly. It came away slick with blood.
"Oh," I said simply, and collapsed back into blissful unconsciousness.