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esp_dragonFandom: Noblesse
Summary: "You had a number of cracked ribs," Frankenstein informed M-21, "but the dagger just managed to miss your heart."
Rating: PG-13/R
Contains: Blood thoughts/bloody description
Notes: Set anywhere past the second season.
*stares at the rating* Yeeeeah.
Uh, I had this idea a couple of months ago, and then it bit me again while I reread the second season. I thinkdarlingfox prompted this one originally?
Genre: General
Word count: 390
Status: Complete
"Oh, good," Frankenstein said as M-21 regained consciousness, "you're awake."
He was…? M-21 grimaced, tasting blood; that was a stable constant after every fight, with the kind of injuries he usually sustained.
"You had a number of cracked ribs," Frankenstein informed him, "but the dagger just managed to miss your heart."
M-21 blinked, not sure if it was because his brain was still trying to catch up, but he didn't think he had heard that correctly.
"You were quite lucky," Frankenstein murmured. "Do be careful next time; your regenerative abilities were able to keep you alive, but they might not next time – there is a limit to how much you can heal."
Frankenstein left before M-21 could formulate a reply to that, his thoughts completely frozen. When the door clicked shut, he reached underneath his top and groped around his chest. Bandages. He could feel the rough patches where his blood had dried.
Fuck, he could move as if he wasn't injured in the first place! His heart hammering in his chest (Ha!), M-21 shoved himself upright, not feeling the usual sudden wave of dizziness or weakness if he did that too quickly after being injured. It didn't bode well and M-21 stripped out of his top, tearing off the bandages with his claws, not caring when he did it carelessly, nicking his own skin.
No scar. M-21 ran his untransformed hand over his chest, trying to find a dip, a change in skin texture. Anything.
Nothing. His body was the same as it had been the day before, before the fight.
His breath catching in his throat, M-21 leaned back, his limbs shaking as he closed his eyes.
Frankenstein hadn't lied. Frankenstein wouldn't lie. Not about something like that.
Which meant Frankenstein hadn't realised.
Alone in the room, with his thoughts, M-21 remembered the fight, what had happened.
The dagger hadn't stopped short of his heart.
The dagger had gone through his heart, puncturing it soundly, almost feeling as if it had cleaved his heart in two.
M-21 had felt his heart trying to beat around it before giving up and everything had faded into a haze of pain.
The same heart that was beating strongly in his chest right now, as if nothing had happened.
M-21 swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the stickiness in his mouth.
He…couldn't die?
_______________________________________________
Uh, fic just decided to end there. XD; There's a potential for continuation, but I'm not too fussed.
Summary: "You had a number of cracked ribs," Frankenstein informed M-21, "but the dagger just managed to miss your heart."
Rating: PG-13/R
Contains: Blood thoughts/bloody description
Notes: Set anywhere past the second season.
*stares at the rating* Yeeeeah.
Uh, I had this idea a couple of months ago, and then it bit me again while I reread the second season. I think
darlingfox prompted this one originally?Genre: General
Word count: 390
Status: Complete
"Oh, good," Frankenstein said as M-21 regained consciousness, "you're awake."
He was…? M-21 grimaced, tasting blood; that was a stable constant after every fight, with the kind of injuries he usually sustained.
"You had a number of cracked ribs," Frankenstein informed him, "but the dagger just managed to miss your heart."
M-21 blinked, not sure if it was because his brain was still trying to catch up, but he didn't think he had heard that correctly.
"You were quite lucky," Frankenstein murmured. "Do be careful next time; your regenerative abilities were able to keep you alive, but they might not next time – there is a limit to how much you can heal."
Frankenstein left before M-21 could formulate a reply to that, his thoughts completely frozen. When the door clicked shut, he reached underneath his top and groped around his chest. Bandages. He could feel the rough patches where his blood had dried.
Fuck, he could move as if he wasn't injured in the first place! His heart hammering in his chest (Ha!), M-21 shoved himself upright, not feeling the usual sudden wave of dizziness or weakness if he did that too quickly after being injured. It didn't bode well and M-21 stripped out of his top, tearing off the bandages with his claws, not caring when he did it carelessly, nicking his own skin.
No scar. M-21 ran his untransformed hand over his chest, trying to find a dip, a change in skin texture. Anything.
Nothing. His body was the same as it had been the day before, before the fight.
His breath catching in his throat, M-21 leaned back, his limbs shaking as he closed his eyes.
Frankenstein hadn't lied. Frankenstein wouldn't lie. Not about something like that.
Which meant Frankenstein hadn't realised.
Alone in the room, with his thoughts, M-21 remembered the fight, what had happened.
The dagger hadn't stopped short of his heart.
The dagger had gone through his heart, puncturing it soundly, almost feeling as if it had cleaved his heart in two.
M-21 had felt his heart trying to beat around it before giving up and everything had faded into a haze of pain.
The same heart that was beating strongly in his chest right now, as if nothing had happened.
M-21 swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the stickiness in his mouth.
He…couldn't die?
Uh, fic just decided to end there. XD; There's a potential for continuation, but I'm not too fussed.