A breath.
One single, raspy breath. Something Dagramir never thought he would feel the sensation of ever again. Air penetrated through the dust and ash that covered his face and occupied his mouth, his head wretched upwards as he attempted to cough out whatever residue remained in him. Taking a few moments to stare upwards through the cracks in the rubble that covered his body, he saw something he never thought he would see again either. A bright blue sky. White clouds drifting across his view. Was this heaven? He was not sure, though he certainly felt like hell.
It was at this moment, when he tried to sit up, he did notice the pain. A dull ache flowing through his neck at each slight movement of his head now. Laying his head back, he groaned quietly to himself. "What have I done now..." was the single thought that crossed his mind. However, this would soon be replaced by a fear. A fear that was slowly beginning to creep up on him, perpetually growing larger with each moment that passed. He couldn't move his fingers. The fear began to spread, as he slowly realized that he could no longer move his feet either, or his legs and arms. At first, he thought it was the rubble, and that he was simply trapped beneath it all. But, with a slight shift of his head, through another crack of rubble, he saw his body. Or, at least, what was not pinned down by stone, charred wood, and dusty chandelier. His right arm sprawled across the ash-ridden floor, and his torso; clothes ripped and burned from the fire and destruction. Although his body was not its usual pale Gondorian complexion, whatever skin that was left exposed was now littered with second, and third, degree burns, a sight that made him wince.
Tilting his head back towards the sky, he would groan once more from the pain that engulfed his neck, and he finally put everything together. His neck was broken; at least, something in his neck was broken. This was not heaven.. but nor was it hell; and from the sounds of shouting and the sudden shifting of the rubble above him, Dagramir finally realized where he really was. He was alive. At this point, he didn't know whether he was blessed, or cursed, but the air that he was unsteadily pushing through his lungs was the only thing he focused on. "Why me?", he found himself asking, though he did not even know from whom he wished an answer from, "What have I got left to give this world?". Of course, there was no real answer to his question, though he took from that what he pleased. Perhaps it was the work of a divine spirit who looked over the world he lived in. Or, more simply, perhaps it was simple luck, or the lack thereof, depending on how you looked at it. But one thing he knew for sure, was that he was alive. And he was determined to make sure he found out which it was.
This whole dramatic affair brought a new shine on life to the Gondorian, despite the fact he knew very little of what would happen to him in the next chapter of his sordid life. All he knew, or at the very least, believed, was that while the event was not his demise, something certainly did die within him. His past life, a life that had been filled with horror and sadness no longer seemed to burden him. Or, perhaps, the sensation he was feeling was paralysis that gripped his body. Regardless, one thing was for certain: a piece of his life had been written, and closed.
The 'Black Viper' was dead.
Dagramir Audun, however... He was very much alive.
