[Sorey hadn't even meant to summon wind. It had just happened; like his descent is just happening, like everything is just happening wrong.
Nightingale wraps her arms around him; she feels frail and small encircling his broad shoulders, head against his, warm wind buffeting them both as it dispels the cold. Sorey closes his eyes and he thinks of the others; of Alisha, of Rose. He could make her his Squire. She's accepted the danger of it, and she wants to work so hard- She's even willing to subject herself to water purification again, despite being terrified of drowning. She wants to save him; she wants to protect him, like Rose had when she'd killed Cardinal Forton to save Sorey from having to make the decision. He should let her save him.
It's in that tenuous space, where he hangs between I should and I will that his heart suddenly trips, falls into a panic and whispers something dark:
it will fail.
They aren't his own words. It's not his own voice. If he were listening closely he'd hear the hiss of wind behind it but all he sees behind his eyes is the hellion summoned by Symonne stabbing into Rose, again and again, and the tiny sound of pain she and Dezel made together when it did.
His panic and fear conjures Nightingale in Rose's place and that's what does it, what has him shoving his arms between them to push her away hard, scrambling up onto his feet.]
No!
[-and then she's there, on the ground, and he just put her there. He's never treated someone like that in his life.]
I'm- I'm sorry, I-
[If the Shepherd falls to malevolence, it will mean the end of the world.
He stares down at her, voice choked in his throat before he turns and runs out of the garden, boots pounding hard against the ground as he flees as fast as he can. She's going to tell Mikleo. Mikleo will come looking for him, possibly with the others, and if he starts- he must be generating it now, he-
If they get inside of his domain- it might already be too late, but if he can get far enough, maybe they'll survive. Maybe they won't be twisted. Maybe he can at least save the three of them.]
[Nightingale is small, and frail, and weak. No amount of spirit can make up for some amounts of physical differences, and when Sorey pushes, she goes down easily and hard.
Even so, it's far from the worst hit she's taken. She's stunned for a moment, but once Sorey bolts, she's rolling upright in one fluid motion- all her practice adventuring has paid off- and shouting after him.]
Sorey, wait, please-!
[... But it's too late.
She gets her communicator out. That's all she can do now.]
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experiencepoints) wrote2024-09-26 09:21 pm
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Nightingale wraps her arms around him; she feels frail and small encircling his broad shoulders, head against his, warm wind buffeting them both as it dispels the cold. Sorey closes his eyes and he thinks of the others; of Alisha, of Rose. He could make her his Squire. She's accepted the danger of it, and she wants to work so hard- She's even willing to subject herself to water purification again, despite being terrified of drowning. She wants to save him; she wants to protect him, like Rose had when she'd killed Cardinal Forton to save Sorey from having to make the decision. He should let her save him.
It's in that tenuous space, where he hangs between I should and I will that his heart suddenly trips, falls into a panic and whispers something dark:
it will fail.
They aren't his own words. It's not his own voice. If he were listening closely he'd hear the hiss of wind behind it but all he sees behind his eyes is the hellion summoned by Symonne stabbing into Rose, again and again, and the tiny sound of pain she and Dezel made together when it did.
His panic and fear conjures Nightingale in Rose's place and that's what does it, what has him shoving his arms between them to push her away hard, scrambling up onto his feet.]
No!
[-and then she's there, on the ground, and he just put her there. He's never treated someone like that in his life.]
I'm- I'm sorry, I-
[If the Shepherd falls to malevolence, it will mean the end of the world.
He stares down at her, voice choked in his throat before he turns and runs out of the garden, boots pounding hard against the ground as he flees as fast as he can. She's going to tell Mikleo. Mikleo will come looking for him, possibly with the others, and if he starts- he must be generating it now, he-
If they get inside of his domain- it might already be too late, but if he can get far enough, maybe they'll survive. Maybe they won't be twisted. Maybe he can at least save the three of them.]
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Even so, it's far from the worst hit she's taken. She's stunned for a moment, but once Sorey bolts, she's rolling upright in one fluid motion- all her practice adventuring has paid off- and shouting after him.]
Sorey, wait, please-!
[... But it's too late.
She gets her communicator out. That's all she can do now.]