Each successive thought, each successive image, each successive feeling more muted and flickering than the last, only serves to increase the dread that wells in the pit of his stomach, an ugly sick feeling that feels like the entire weight of the Grandcypher bearing down on him.
But he keeps running, because it's all he can do right now. He has to do this right now, before it's too late. ]
I'll be there soon. Hang in there.
[ It's a repeat of what he'd said before, though he don't know if Gen hears him this time. He doesn't wait for an answer anyway, sliding his shard back in and forcing a burst of speed into his pace for the last leg of the journey.
The ugly feeling in his stomach increases tenfold when he skids into the garden behind the church. The first thing that greets him is the smell: the sharp copper scent of too much blood hangs heavy in the air and his nostrils flare in distaste. The second is the fountain, its waters turned murky as it continues to run. The third is the body on the ground, the usually tall form made small as Gen curls in on himself, skin pallid underneath the moonlight and his arm held close in front of him.
His single arm, because the other ends in a bloodied stump halfway down.
Bile rises in this throat but he forces it back down, and forces his legs forward again until he's less than a foot away. A quick check reveals Gen's pulse as still present. Faint and erratic, but still there. ]
Good job hanging in there.
[ The words are soft, almost drowned out by the fountain behind them, purposefully kept low because he doesn't think he can keep his throat from catching if he speaks any louder. He should feel some sort of joy or satisfaction, that Gen had trusted him enough to even consider reaching out to him in this desperate time. Instead, there's only grief, pure and simple, for both the man who shouldn't have had to die (but whose death he had condoned anyway) and the boy who'd felt pressured enough to kill him and had suffered grievous injury as a result.
It shouldn't have come to this.
But it had and there's no time now to dwell on the endless web of mistakes and regrets that had brought them all to this tragic result. He has to get Gen to Paul immediately. But before that....
Water splashes in the fountain as he moves to search through blood-stained basin, fingers finally closing in on something smooth and hard. Without True Sight, it's hard to confirm that what's in his hand is actually an Aion shard, but the size and sheen look about right. The fallen sword by the fountain, blade too pale and smooth to be any regular sword, gets picked up with his other hand. Both get stashed under a nearby bush, items to be regained later.
He pulls out his shard again, sending a quick message to Paul to meet him at an inn nearby. And then it's back to Gen, who gets picked up as carefully as Eustace can manage, though he's sure the jostling does nothing but send more pain through that already battered body. Though Gen is heavier and bulkier, the sensation of another body held close to his chest reminds him too much of how he'd had to carry Kaeya's body out of the storehouse just the day before.
How many more of his comrades' maimed bodies is he going to have to drag back? (When he is going to be the one in their place?)
He says none of this aloud. Instead he moves as fast as he can, uncaring of the blood that stains his clothes and turns his fingers slick and red. ]
no subject
Each successive thought, each successive image, each successive feeling more muted and flickering than the last, only serves to increase the dread that wells in the pit of his stomach, an ugly sick feeling that feels like the entire weight of the Grandcypher bearing down on him.
But he keeps running, because it's all he can do right now. He has to do this right now, before it's too late. ]
I'll be there soon. Hang in there.
[ It's a repeat of what he'd said before, though he don't know if Gen hears him this time. He doesn't wait for an answer anyway, sliding his shard back in and forcing a burst of speed into his pace for the last leg of the journey.
The ugly feeling in his stomach increases tenfold when he skids into the garden behind the church. The first thing that greets him is the smell: the sharp copper scent of too much blood hangs heavy in the air and his nostrils flare in distaste. The second is the fountain, its waters turned murky as it continues to run. The third is the body on the ground, the usually tall form made small as Gen curls in on himself, skin pallid underneath the moonlight and his arm held close in front of him.
His single arm, because the other ends in a bloodied stump halfway down.
Bile rises in this throat but he forces it back down, and forces his legs forward again until he's less than a foot away. A quick check reveals Gen's pulse as still present. Faint and erratic, but still there. ]
Good job hanging in there.
[ The words are soft, almost drowned out by the fountain behind them, purposefully kept low because he doesn't think he can keep his throat from catching if he speaks any louder. He should feel some sort of joy or satisfaction, that Gen had trusted him enough to even consider reaching out to him in this desperate time. Instead, there's only grief, pure and simple, for both the man who shouldn't have had to die (but whose death he had condoned anyway) and the boy who'd felt pressured enough to kill him and had suffered grievous injury as a result.
It shouldn't have come to this.
But it had and there's no time now to dwell on the endless web of mistakes and regrets that had brought them all to this tragic result. He has to get Gen to Paul immediately. But before that....
Water splashes in the fountain as he moves to search through blood-stained basin, fingers finally closing in on something smooth and hard. Without True Sight, it's hard to confirm that what's in his hand is actually an Aion shard, but the size and sheen look about right. The fallen sword by the fountain, blade too pale and smooth to be any regular sword, gets picked up with his other hand. Both get stashed under a nearby bush, items to be regained later.
He pulls out his shard again, sending a quick message to Paul to meet him at an inn nearby. And then it's back to Gen, who gets picked up as carefully as Eustace can manage, though he's sure the jostling does nothing but send more pain through that already battered body. Though Gen is heavier and bulkier, the sensation of another body held close to his chest reminds him too much of how he'd had to carry Kaeya's body out of the storehouse just the day before.
How many more of his comrades' maimed bodies is he going to have to drag back? (When he is going to be the one in their place?)
He says none of this aloud. Instead he moves as fast as he can, uncaring of the blood that stains his clothes and turns his fingers slick and red. ]
Come on. Let's go.