- it's the middle of the night. you are fighting, but you are losing.
- there's a terrible looking beast in front of you - a creature that looks like something conjured out of both mist and shadow, but wholly unnatural. too many eyes, too many teeth, just wrong.
- you can only really see what you're doing by a small amount of moonlight coming down from the sky. mist pools around your ankles as you swing your sword against this thing in a motion you've completed hundreds, thousands of times - but it's difficult, this time. your arm is wounded and blood is coming down from a gash in your head, making it difficult to see.
- not difficult to hear, though, and you hear a familiar voice calling out your name. everything inside you goes still, unbelieving, as you turn and look towards her with nothing more than a firm no. she can't be here now, can't be in danger, can't get hurt. you won't allow it. you tell her that she has to go now.
- the momentary loss of focus has a cost, though - while you're looking her way, the beast you're fighting has no such preoccupation. you don't even see it moving before it's too late, before claws are ripping through your throat, before you're falling. you don't stop looking at her as the sword tumbles from your hands, or as you hit the ground.
- you're faintly aware that she's screaming, calling your name and practically falling down next to you. she pulls you up, but everything seems very far away. when you bring your hand up to place it in her hair, you grate out - "thought i told you to run". she leans into your hand and covers it with her own, saying that she did run, telling you you're a fool. you inform her, still pained, still bleeding, that you thought never come back was implied.
- before you can talk much more, you notice something - a faraway look in her eyes as well, surprise and fright. moving despite your injuries, you put your hands on her shoulders, pulling weakly, asking her what's wrong. telling her to run, again, begging her to leave.
- she pulls away from you, looking towards the beast, and you realize with a sickening sense of dread - she can see it, now, too. some of your blood must have passed to her somehow. you move onto your stomach so you can get up more easily, reaching for your sword, but the blood loss is making you weak and you can't see with blood still spilling into your eyes. when you finally find the hilt, you manage to push yourself up, moving between this woman and this monster. you're swaying as you stand, but it doesn't change how fiercely determined you are in this moment.
- she hasn't run yet, even as the thing starts to walk towards the both of you. you beg her, one more time, and you can't stop your voice from trembling when you say her name. instead of running as you've asked, she steps around you and takes the sword from your hands. there's no stopping the immediate swell of panic and dread - she can't, you won't let her get hurt, you won't lose her, you tell her to stop - but she doesn't listen.
- in an instant the creature's claws have made contact with her, knocking her to the side. the sword she grabbed from you a moment ago goes flying out of her hands, further than either of you can easily reach. it goes after her. you are too slow to stop it as it flies her way, too weak and injured to go for the sword.
- you knew this would happen you knew this would happen you knew this would happen, this is your fault, you brought her here, you knew this would happen
- you can't look as it attacks her. you can't really do anything but start to sob, a terrible, wretched noise, realizing how terribly you've failed once again. she's gone, she must be gone, you only ever—
- you hear her call your name, and you freeze. there's a sudden, unreal sense of urgency, you don't even pick yourself up to walk, you drag yourself towards her until you find her bruised but breathing, alive. you are nearly unconscious yourself, but that doesn't matter, nothing matters but the fact she isn't dead.
- she looks towards you, smiling, and promptly tells you that you look like shit.
- heedless the many, many reasons why you should not be doing this, you take her face in your bloodied hands and press your mouth to hers, desperate and relieved and fiercely warm.
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11 (cw gore)
- there's a terrible looking beast in front of you - a creature that looks like something conjured out of both mist and shadow, but wholly unnatural. too many eyes, too many teeth, just wrong.
- you can only really see what you're doing by a small amount of moonlight coming down from the sky. mist pools around your ankles as you swing your sword against this thing in a motion you've completed hundreds, thousands of times - but it's difficult, this time. your arm is wounded and blood is coming down from a gash in your head, making it difficult to see.
- not difficult to hear, though, and you hear a familiar voice calling out your name. everything inside you goes still, unbelieving, as you turn and look towards her with nothing more than a firm no. she can't be here now, can't be in danger, can't get hurt. you won't allow it. you tell her that she has to go now.
- the momentary loss of focus has a cost, though - while you're looking her way, the beast you're fighting has no such preoccupation. you don't even see it moving before it's too late, before claws are ripping through your throat, before you're falling. you don't stop looking at her as the sword tumbles from your hands, or as you hit the ground.
- you're faintly aware that she's screaming, calling your name and practically falling down next to you. she pulls you up, but everything seems very far away. when you bring your hand up to place it in her hair, you grate out - "thought i told you to run". she leans into your hand and covers it with her own, saying that she did run, telling you you're a fool. you inform her, still pained, still bleeding, that you thought never come back was implied.
- before you can talk much more, you notice something - a faraway look in her eyes as well, surprise and fright. moving despite your injuries, you put your hands on her shoulders, pulling weakly, asking her what's wrong. telling her to run, again, begging her to leave.
- she pulls away from you, looking towards the beast, and you realize with a sickening sense of dread - she can see it, now, too. some of your blood must have passed to her somehow. you move onto your stomach so you can get up more easily, reaching for your sword, but the blood loss is making you weak and you can't see with blood still spilling into your eyes. when you finally find the hilt, you manage to push yourself up, moving between this woman and this monster. you're swaying as you stand, but it doesn't change how fiercely determined you are in this moment.
- she hasn't run yet, even as the thing starts to walk towards the both of you. you beg her, one more time, and you can't stop your voice from trembling when you say her name. instead of running as you've asked, she steps around you and takes the sword from your hands. there's no stopping the immediate swell of panic and dread - she can't, you won't let her get hurt, you won't lose her, you tell her to stop - but she doesn't listen.
- in an instant the creature's claws have made contact with her, knocking her to the side. the sword she grabbed from you a moment ago goes flying out of her hands, further than either of you can easily reach. it goes after her. you are too slow to stop it as it flies her way, too weak and injured to go for the sword.
- you knew this would happen you knew this would happen you knew this would happen, this is your fault, you brought her here, you knew this would happen
- you can't look as it attacks her. you can't really do anything but start to sob, a terrible, wretched noise, realizing how terribly you've failed once again. she's gone, she must be gone, you only ever—
- you hear her call your name, and you freeze. there's a sudden, unreal sense of urgency, you don't even pick yourself up to walk, you drag yourself towards her until you find her bruised but breathing, alive. you are nearly unconscious yourself, but that doesn't matter, nothing matters but the fact she isn't dead.
- she looks towards you, smiling, and promptly tells you that you look like shit.
- heedless the many, many reasons why you should not be doing this, you take her face in your bloodied hands and press your mouth to hers, desperate and relieved and fiercely warm.
- the memory ends.