[ The connection seems to ebb and flow, brilliantly lit up with those pointed emotions one moment, then fading to something terribly muted the next. And though there's the equivalent of a flinch in response to Eustace's question -- a hitch of the breath and a slight, startled judder -- there's a pause before any answer comes. ]
I killed him.
[ 'Him.' Does Eustace need any clarification on who that might be? Probably not.
It's forced upon him anyway.
An image flashes through, only for a moment -- Dokja's face seen from above, drenched in shadows, water and blood. A hand squeezing tight around his throat as he gasps for air. Then it fades to black, replaced by physical sensations that filter through, vivid and raw. The relentless pulse of pain radiating from the arm. A heavy chill that settles steadily into the bones. The feel of bricks and dirt gritting into the temple as Gen curls up on the ground with a breathless groan, a fresh shudder of fear and anxiety rippling through his nerves.
It's in sharp contrast to just how much of himself Gen usually tries to keep hidden over Communion, his emotions locked down tight behind iron walls. Here and now, there's no filter, nothing to lessen what Eustace is also forced to feel. Nothing to dampen the next cold wave of dread that ripples through the chest, squeezing tight around the lungs. And even worse than that, the crush of something heavy that seems to bear down ruthlessly on his chest -- a fatigue that cuts deep into his core. ]
I ... had to. [ Gen's words come at a lower murmur, accompanied by another flicker of Dokja's face. Looking at him, lips moving as he says something. But the image is terribly blurry, and any sounds are drowned out by the come and go of a low static hiss. It's growing harder to recall anything with clarity, and the connection grows thready even as Gen repeats listlessly, ] I had to do it.
no subject
I killed him.
[ 'Him.' Does Eustace need any clarification on who that might be? Probably not.
It's forced upon him anyway.
An image flashes through, only for a moment -- Dokja's face seen from above, drenched in shadows, water and blood. A hand squeezing tight around his throat as he gasps for air. Then it fades to black, replaced by physical sensations that filter through, vivid and raw. The relentless pulse of pain radiating from the arm. A heavy chill that settles steadily into the bones. The feel of bricks and dirt gritting into the temple as Gen curls up on the ground with a breathless groan, a fresh shudder of fear and anxiety rippling through his nerves.
It's in sharp contrast to just how much of himself Gen usually tries to keep hidden over Communion, his emotions locked down tight behind iron walls. Here and now, there's no filter, nothing to lessen what Eustace is also forced to feel. Nothing to dampen the next cold wave of dread that ripples through the chest, squeezing tight around the lungs. And even worse than that, the crush of something heavy that seems to bear down ruthlessly on his chest -- a fatigue that cuts deep into his core. ]
I ... had to. [ Gen's words come at a lower murmur, accompanied by another flicker of Dokja's face. Looking at him, lips moving as he says something. But the image is terribly blurry, and any sounds are drowned out by the come and go of a low static hiss. It's growing harder to recall anything with clarity, and the connection grows thready even as Gen repeats listlessly, ] I had to do it.