Gifts were hard to come by in his adulthood, he realized. Long gone were the days of starry-eyed Christmases and birthday cakes, but he never consciously minded. He found solace in the little things, like the desert rains and the books Amelia shared with him.
He didn’t expect the cane. It’s was Catty’s idea, the BLU Sniper had bashfully muttered, but it had him written all over it. Clouds danced on the body of the cane, the end had a sturdy rubber stop and the handle was padded gently with some sort of foam.
The two Snipers rested in front of him, waiting for his reaction, and all the Medic could do was crack a wide smile and cry.
“Es ist perfekt,"he stuttered among the tears.
He had conflicted feelings about the war he was in. Every morning when he holstered his pistol and hoisted the Medigun up on his shoulders, a younger version of himself shouted at him in the back of his mind.
"How could you," he screamed, "you DETEST fighting. You hate the word, the implications, the ACT of it! How could you?”
Truth be told, there were better things out there he could be doing. Every evening he saw the job openings at hospitals and pediatrician’s offices. But when he stepped onto Hoodoo’s territory for the last time, saw the look on Naumann’s face, the faces of his former teammates…
He realized what he was fighting for.
Every morning, pistol holstered at the side and Medigun blazing away, he looked to the Administrator’s voice with contempt, knowing full well who his real enemy was.
@astrogyaru said: “carlos +15”
I guess Carlos’ dream journal got a bit poetic and surreal there for a while.
about me and what I do to my friends
concealed; hidden; not easily found; latent.
Etymology: from Latin dēlitēscent-, stem of dēlitēscēns, present participle of dēlitēscere, “to hide away”.
Andrzej Wróblewski - Autoportret z żoną, maj 1954
There are literally no words