[ Kurt drifts -- for a moment, or maybe more than a moment -- in soft warm darkness, then pain and a voice jolts him out of it, like a fish-hook under his ribs. Grass under his hands. The smell of fog and something rotten. Logan leaning over him.
Logan? But --
It takes a second for his brain to catch up as he blinks up at his friend. Blood coats the back of his tongue. He coughs, droplets of it dark on his lips; grimaces as pain cramps in his guts, his chest. His hand throbs, bright new sparks between his knuckles.
no subject
Logan? But --
It takes a second for his brain to catch up as he blinks up at his friend. Blood coats the back of his tongue. He coughs, droplets of it dark on his lips; grimaces as pain cramps in his guts, his chest. His hand throbs, bright new sparks between his knuckles.
Still, he offers Logan a weak smile. ]
Didn't stick the landing.