"F@%K!"
A line of swearwords that would have shrunk a sailor seared through the light, cooling evening breeze as Xaver struggled, his tempo and agitation becoming more fierce and unholy by the passing moment. Blood and sweat moved as one in beads over his forehead, stinging his eyes, and sending silvery trails of tears down the contours of his handsome face, pooling beneath his chin, and seeping into the ragged remains of his shirt. He swiped at the swell of the gash over his forehead even as his vision blurred, and he violently shook away the spell of dizziness, fingers trailing over his head, and through the thick buzz that was the remnants of his long, obsidian locks. Closing the dark blues of his eyes, he slumped backwards, fighting the urge to be sick, and the pulling desire of unconsciousness.
The barbed-wire that he was sorely entangled in, was little in comparison...
Little, to the memories that were flooding back, as sure as dusk was to come within the hour. Xaver panted a breath, wheezing slightly as he inhaled dust, his left cheek pressed firmly into the dirt.
He was amazed the fence was still whole.
He had ripped numerous posts from the earth with the impact of his landing, sure, but the metal wires had remained wholesome – wholly and effectively snagging him in an odd sort of death trap that was easily bringing out the caged-animal feeling, quickly. The jagged spikes were ruthlessly biting into him, all over, through clothes and skin and feathers, and he was twisted into an odd, uncomfortable position on his belly, one arm free, though the other was pinned behind him. How, yet, he didn’t quite fathom, though his thoughts were rocking too quickly, still, for him to even fathom how to get himself out of his predicament.
Xaver had fallen.
Tumbled from the skies, as his mind had ruthlessly been invaded and overwrought by old and suppressed thoughts.
He’d hit the earth hard.
Hard enough to bring the bliss of blackness for who knew how many hours.
Breathing deeply, his blue orbs closed, as he caught the scents around him. Recognizing that he was close to the Forbidden forest. Close, by a few miles..
No other scents he knew were so tangy of undergrowth, magic, and the supple ancient, mossy mystery.
His limbs slackened as he pressed his face into the dirt, wincing, and cursing, the silvery essence of his agitated tears staining the already pale planes of his face, and mixing with the dirt that was clinging to him in a gritty film, as he struggled..