[ dextera has never made such a sincere attempt at speech. he can hear the archangel over his shoulder calling him pathetic as his throat struggles to find the sounds he’s been deprived of, but all that he seems capable of forming are useless, meaningless whines and shuddering gasps as he’s forced to stare at what he’s done.
he doesn’t want to finish it. his heart revolts. eustace is his friend, star-crossed as they are to be found here in the middle of a war neither of them particularly want to fight—but he’s a friend with a sword in his torso, and letting him linger that way will hurt worse. ]
Ngh!
[ without thinking, but more desperation in his muscles than before, dextera drives the sword deeper, throwing himself behind it to knock eustace to the ground. whether or not that works in its entirety doesn’t matter all that much; it’s only after he’s done that that he, drawing increasingly ragged breathes, takes his sword back. he’s shaken by this, unlike the dream of eustace’s family—it’s in his wide, manic gaze, unfocused even as his vision falls on eustace’s form.
finish it. the command is a reminder, too, that he must take responsibility. his mind races through all the possibilities, and the muscles of his eyes twitch as if in reflex. ]
I’M SAD.
[ dextera has never made such a sincere attempt at speech. he can hear the archangel over his shoulder calling him pathetic as his throat struggles to find the sounds he’s been deprived of, but all that he seems capable of forming are useless, meaningless whines and shuddering gasps as he’s forced to stare at what he’s done.
he doesn’t want to finish it. his heart revolts. eustace is his friend, star-crossed as they are to be found here in the middle of a war neither of them particularly want to fight—but he’s a friend with a sword in his torso, and letting him linger that way will hurt worse. ]
Ngh!
[ without thinking, but more desperation in his muscles than before, dextera drives the sword deeper, throwing himself behind it to knock eustace to the ground. whether or not that works in its entirety doesn’t matter all that much; it’s only after he’s done that that he, drawing increasingly ragged breathes, takes his sword back. he’s shaken by this, unlike the dream of eustace’s family—it’s in his wide, manic gaze, unfocused even as his vision falls on eustace’s form.
finish it. the command is a reminder, too, that he must take responsibility. his mind races through all the possibilities, and the muscles of his eyes twitch as if in reflex. ]