BUT I FLEW TOO HIGH ★ OPEN, JOINING

[LINCOLN L.]

[align=center][div style="background:transparent; width: 600px; text-align: justify; color: black; font-size:12px; line-height: 100%"]Lincoln isn't terrible at making decisions, for the most part. He has flaws—flaws concerning his way of acting, his way of doing things—and that's pretty clear to anyone who meets him, but he's certainly no moron who doesn't know what he's doing. He doesn't get thrown into bad situations just because he was stupid about it. He gets thrown into bad situations ultimately because he's set on helping each and every person he comes across, and though he makes a few mistakes here and there, he does try his best to be smart about things as to not fail at the tasks given to him. It's just... Well, he's a teenager, to put it simply. He's not lived as much life as a wise adult has, and he's prone to making mistakes, because he's still learning. He may play the hero, but the truth is, he's still vulnerable. He's been through many horrific situations that have made him stronger, but he's nowhere near the perfect warrior yet. What he is, though, is stubborn. Lincoln is set on only doing the right thing no matter how many times he fails, and if he has to throw himself into a dangerous camp of immoral gun-wielding bandits to save a book for some random old man, that's what he's going to do. Alas, as stated before, he's failed at his little excursion, because now he rests at the bottom of the cliff he'd fallen off of, injured and unconscious in the middle of freezing snow. As some stroke of lingering luck (which he'd previously thought had left him), this had been the mountain base that he'd hidden his weapons at, so thankfully his sword, shield, bow, and arrows lie under a small tree nearby. When he wakes up, they'll be there for him, which is quite useful, because he's going to need those—they're all he's got to defend himself. First he needs to regain consciousness, though. His weapons are useless without a master to use them, after all.

"Hey. Hey? Can you hear me?"

...Well, getting help doesn't take very long at all. An unfamiliar hand shakes him and moves him away from the rock that had knocked him out cold, and when Lincoln stirs slightly and cracks opens his eyes, the first thing he does is let out a low, hoarse groan in response. Everything hurts, especially his wrist. He struggles to remember what just happened through the fogginess in his head, and his eyes blearily focus onto the woman in front of him to try and remember if he's ever seen her or not. He doesn't think he has, but she seems as if she's worried, so he's not all that wary of her. She's not a threat. Not now, at least. "Ugh," Lincoln huffs quietly under his breath as he lifts himself up into a sitting position without asking for any help, cradling his right wrist to his chest, though he releases a brief hiss of pain from the pain of moving it. Goddess, it hurts, but he needs to address this person, because she seems as if she cares that he's injured, and he doesn't want to leave her waiting. "I'm alright," the blonde-haired teenager murmurs after a few seconds, and then he looks to the left and right, furrowing his eyebrows as he takes in his surroundings. Right, he remembers this place. He remembers that this is where he'd hidden his weapons.

Blue eyes briefly focus on the small tree, and he's glad to see the shining tip of a blade sticking out from under one of the roots—everything's right where he'd left it. His wrist really hurts, though, and with a swallow, he looks back up to Josie, a deep breath leaving his nose in a plume of white. Out of instinct, he looks her over immediately, looking for any sign of malice in her body language or her expression, but honestly, be doesn't see anything. If he had, though, he'd be in trouble, because how can he use a sword or a bow without the use of his dominant hand? One more wary glance is cast toward Josie, and then he furrows his thick eyebrows to shadow his eyes, looking down at his wrist so he can assess its damage. "Is there a medic nearby?" he then asks quietly, already lifting himself to his feet despite the pain his body is in, what with all the cuts and bruises and blood left in the snow. He only loses his balance for a second the moment he's on his feet before he quickly shakes away the fuzziness in his head. He then makes his way toward his weapons, kneeling to gather them with his good arm without another word. That's all he really needed to say. He just needs a medic, and he's already said he's fine. There's nothing else to say to her.

[ i promise you my muse is actually terrible ]