stranglingfruit | what matters most is how you bring joy to life

The snowball connects, and with a sharp cry of equal parts pain and alarm, the boy drops the mangled remains of his weapon. Careless, he mentally scolds himself, he should’ve been paying attention -

His attention snaps to Murmur, tense and furious. Flight isn’t an option in his current state, so fight it is. He raises the hand not currently pressed against his stomach to his face, as if grasping at something over his eyes, and screams, his voice harsh, commanding, desperate:

“TO ME, LOKI!”

A flicker of blue flame circles around his head briefly before stuttering out. The boy collapses to the ground in an unmoving heap.

Edited 2025-05-09 16:42 (UTC)

The snowball had the intended effect of disarming the boy, though Murmur did have to admit to mild irritation at his continued insistence on trying to fight. Why humans must be so insistent on causing problems for themselves he'll never understand.

But, fortunately, it didn't last. The power swelled, and died, as expected. Leaving them a dying heap of bloody mess to deal with. Or rather leaving Jon a dying heap of bloody mess to deal with, because Murmur wasn't getting involved until he was directly asked.

Instead he just hummed a faint sound of disapproval, and sipped his drink. Somehow his has survived this ordeal.

Jon has survived the ordeal largely by remaining rooted to the spot in abject terror. He is not a skilled physical fighter by any stretch of the imagination, and if the now-unconscious boy had been in any shape to cause actual damage, Jon would have made an easy target. He doesn’t entirely understand what he just witnessed, but that’s less important now. This newcomer clearly needs help; it’s not hard to guess he’s likely lost a lot of blood and in desperate need of medical attention.

But Jon is no doctor. After giving Murmur an incredulous stare that he imagines the angel either won’t notice or won’t care about, he rushes forward in a panic and kneels on the ground next to boy. Surely he can at least check for a pulse, right? Even someone with no medical skill can do that. Hesitantly, Jon reaches out to loosen the black and white striped tie around the boy’s neck and gently presses two fingers to his neck, searching for a sign of life.

His skin is pale and clammy, and his pulse is irregular when Jon is able to find it, but it’s there. It might not be too late.

Jon shakes his head and violently shoves away the memory of an open door and the beckoning darkness within while another boy walks toward it, helpless to resist.

“We have to help him.”

Not exactly asking, but the expectation for Murmur to pitch in is the same.

The boy is certainly in desperate need of medical attention, Jon is certainly right about that. However that "we" remains a load-bearing we at the moment, as Murmur remains utterly impassive as he watches the goings on with a level of disconnect Jon has rarely been privy to. This one was not of their flock, not yet, and therefore firmly out of his purview.

Thus, if Jon expected motivation on the angel's part, it was going to take more than implied requests. He didn't want to get involved in this, after all. To him it wasn't any of his business, but Jon was upset and he could tell Jon was going to only grow more upset if Murmur didn't give him a nudge on the necessary course of action.

He can't get involved on his own, but he can get roped in.

"What would you like me to do? Move him, heal him? Navi is an option."

He remained, perhaps frustratingly, calm about the whole ordeal.

Jon isn’t thinking about the whole “can’t get involved, human free will” nonsense that binds Celestials’ action or lack thereof. He turns around with an incredulous stare, like he must be hallucinating or losing his mind entirely.

“What sort of question is that?”

Of course Jon wasn't, the mortals always forgot that part at those key moments when a Celestial's hands were most bound. Murmur was already bending the rules by offering at all, hell being there was teetering on the edge. He wasn't willing to risk Falling again on behalf of some stranger whose circumstances were wholly unknown to him. Granted, that did raise the question of what would he be willing to risk a Fall for?

Meeting Jon's incredulous gaze, he hesitated. There was one thing he could think of... though he wasn't certain Jon would much enjoy what became of that. He felt a knot twist, a sensation he was largely unfamiliar with... anxiety? Before he allowed himself to ruminate on it too long he moved, forgoing the reminder that a direct request was necessary.

"Of course. How silly of me."

The young man didn't have much time, and Jon wasn't in the mental state to handle arguing about celestial nonsense. Murmur didn't know what would come of this, all he knew was that he'd not actively defied his commands before. It terrified him.

Swiftly he knelt by the boy, feeling that knot grow into something cold and heavy that he ignored as he placed his hand on his chest, a warm healing light enveloping the young man. Murmur was not a skilled healer by any means, and it drained him rapidly to do so. Even still, it was better than letting him bleed to death. He could at least stabilize him before they returned to Navi, they would be much better suited to mend his injuries.

In the back of his mind he was dimly aware of a searing pain though his currently invisible wings. It wasn't like the Fall, which burned worse than death, but it wasn't terribly far off either.

He felt it would be best not to mention this to Jon.

Edited 2025-06-15 22:01 (UTC)

The boy on the ground groans quietly as Murmur works his healing magic, but otherwise doesn’t stir or regain consciousness. The rise and fall of his chest settles into a more regular rhythm, a sign his breathing has stabilized. Jon sighs deeply, relief audible.

“Thank you,” he says, with a curtness of tone that also means finally, and he checks the boy’s pulse again, just to be sure. It seems better than before, but Jon still isn’t a medical professional. This boy isn’t completely healed, and he appears to have lost a lot of blood.

“We should get him back to the ship.”

Murmur didn't much care for that tone, and didn't look Jon's way. He didn't understand, couldn't understand, perhaps. His wings burned, like fire ants chewing through his feathers.

He ignored it.

"Lead the way." Murmur muttered, moving to lift the boy. He was light, as all humans were to him, but long limbs still made him somewhat awkward to wrestle. Still, far easier for him to lift than for Jon who probably didn't spend much time hauling bodies around.

what matters most is how you bring joy to life

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