Gen watches the next spurt of blood gush from the jagged wound, eyes wide, like he's hypnotized by the flow of opera crimson. And how can he not? There's something truly surreal about that sight, like he can't quite connect it to his perception of reality -- that his arm is gone -- and Gen swallows thickly as he reaches a hand towards that injury. The sound of his mace landing in the fountain next to Dokja's leg sounds like it's coming from terribly far away, and even when he touches a finger to the frighteningly clean edge of that cut, his sensations are muddled.
It doesn't hurt. His fingers come away wet with blood. But his arm is gone.
Even that sudden yank at his leg doesn't fully break through the thick haze of fog that's settled over his thoughts. Gen stumbles back a step, water splashing loudly around his boots from the movements, and even then, there's a moment's pause before his gaze slides down to focus on Dokja.
Ah. Right. He needs to kill Dokja, doesn't he?
Gen inhales sharply. Then crushes his heel into Dokja's chest once more, hard, right at the solar plexus. Sways, still struggling to balance himself, then shifts to stomp down on Dokja's good arm with his other boot. Bears his weight down on it fully as he heavily brings his other knee down on Dokja's chest. Then firmly wraps his hand around the slim column of Dokja's throat. ]
You need to die.
[ His words are deliberate. Clear. There's no mistaking what he's said. But Dokja might notice that Gen's gaze is starting to go distant even as his palm starts to crush into Dokja's adam's apple. As fingers start to squeeze. ]
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Gen watches the next spurt of blood gush from the jagged wound, eyes wide, like he's hypnotized by the flow of opera crimson. And how can he not? There's something truly surreal about that sight, like he can't quite connect it to his perception of reality -- that his arm is gone -- and Gen swallows thickly as he reaches a hand towards that injury. The sound of his mace landing in the fountain next to Dokja's leg sounds like it's coming from terribly far away, and even when he touches a finger to the frighteningly clean edge of that cut, his sensations are muddled.
It doesn't hurt. His fingers come away wet with blood. But his arm is gone.
Even that sudden yank at his leg doesn't fully break through the thick haze of fog that's settled over his thoughts. Gen stumbles back a step, water splashing loudly around his boots from the movements, and even then, there's a moment's pause before his gaze slides down to focus on Dokja.
Ah. Right. He needs to kill Dokja, doesn't he?
Gen inhales sharply. Then crushes his heel into Dokja's chest once more, hard, right at the solar plexus. Sways, still struggling to balance himself, then shifts to stomp down on Dokja's good arm with his other boot. Bears his weight down on it fully as he heavily brings his other knee down on Dokja's chest. Then firmly wraps his hand around the slim column of Dokja's throat. ]
You need to die.
[ His words are deliberate. Clear. There's no mistaking what he's said. But Dokja might notice that Gen's gaze is starting to go distant even as his palm starts to crush into Dokja's adam's apple. As fingers start to squeeze. ]