Between the caution of potentially being blinded again and the surprise of being skewered without warning, he sees moreso than feels the blade that sinks into his flesh and internal organs. There's a strange beauty in it, in seeing something so white and pure jutting out of black clothes and an ashen gray aura. A contrast, yin to yang.
And then the pain hits and his senses roar back to life.
He's burned his skin more often that he would have liked, and felt the tell-tale symbols of heartburn as a youth when his habits hadn't been so neat and polished. This is so much worse than both combined. A cry of pain rips from his throat, his body stumbling back from both the burning agony of the blade as well as the force driving the blade into him. He's been beaten before and gravely wounded before but he's still human and the experience of old injuries doesn't make freshly gained ones hurt any less.
Out of all the thoughts running through his head - that he should pull back, find a medic, save himself and risk failure - there's not a single thought that revolves around Dextera's actions as a betrayal of their relationship. This is war, after all. These things always happen, no matter how much he hates it.
And no matter how much he hates himself for it, he doesn't abandon missions even at the risk of his own life. He can't just turn tail here and run. ]
Finish it.
[ It's barely more than a croak as he tries to recapture his balance, legs unsteady as he digs his heels into the ground for support. All the while, Dex's sword protrudes out of him.
Whether that means killing him or knocking him out, but one way or another Dex is going to have to commit. ]
smiles so widely, thank you mary
Between the caution of potentially being blinded again and the surprise of being skewered without warning, he sees moreso than feels the blade that sinks into his flesh and internal organs. There's a strange beauty in it, in seeing something so white and pure jutting out of black clothes and an ashen gray aura. A contrast, yin to yang.
And then the pain hits and his senses roar back to life.
He's burned his skin more often that he would have liked, and felt the tell-tale symbols of heartburn as a youth when his habits hadn't been so neat and polished. This is so much worse than both combined. A cry of pain rips from his throat, his body stumbling back from both the burning agony of the blade as well as the force driving the blade into him. He's been beaten before and gravely wounded before but he's still human and the experience of old injuries doesn't make freshly gained ones hurt any less.
Out of all the thoughts running through his head - that he should pull back, find a medic, save himself and risk failure - there's not a single thought that revolves around Dextera's actions as a betrayal of their relationship. This is war, after all. These things always happen, no matter how much he hates it.
And no matter how much he hates himself for it, he doesn't abandon missions even at the risk of his own life. He can't just turn tail here and run. ]
Finish it.
[ It's barely more than a croak as he tries to recapture his balance, legs unsteady as he digs his heels into the ground for support. All the while, Dex's sword protrudes out of him.
Whether that means killing him or knocking him out, but one way or another Dex is going to have to commit. ]