[ it's fine marie just throws up sometimes. except then it's very quickly not okay, because that's. neon. and she's in pain and he can't do anything about it, he can never figure out what to do.
he brings his hands up like he's going to hold onto her shoulders, but they just end up hovering there, uncertain, not quite making contact.
and then the world is all pain and red. he tries to grab at her wrist to stop the stabs, but his vision is already going spotty. ]
[he grabs at her wrist, and when he does, she stops.
she hiccups, and pulls the knife slow from damien's ribs. she coughs a little, splattering color all over him. it burns, acidlike. and then she pushes him away, to the floor, discarding him. or --
or maybe it's for his own good? maybe. because when she sees him bleeding on the floor, she chokes, eyes glowing wildly red, and turns the knife on herself. her chest, her stomach, and then, with a brutal finality, through her own throat.
[ despite it all, there's still a part of him that wants to crawl towards her.
damien is never good at keeping away from things when he should. keeping away from people who are bad for him.
or people that he's bad for.
"You were in pain, screaming in pain, and I couldn't run to you fast enough. I couldn't save you."
"A nightmare based on something that never happened. Because I did save you. I did."
but the injuries are too much. he doubles over, curling in on himself with one arm over his bleeding stomach and the other still pressed to his throat. when he opens his mouth all that comes out is a pained groan.
"I need you to save me, now, Marā¬"
it's hard to think through the hurt. it's hard to feel anything but this crushing, confused despair, and anger, and - the fear that looms over him like his own inescapable shadow. is he going to wake up back in the AM again? or this time is he just going to be left for dead like all of them had really wanted? ]
[slowly, she bleeds out. multicolored, neon blood leaks from her wounds, bright and hard to look at. it pools, and stains damien's clothes.
whispers gather around the edges of the two of them, indecipherable but for a few. familiar voices. are these his friends? has he ever really had anybody at all, or has he pushed them away? are you waiting for something to happen? it won't. and there was something you were supposed to remember, but even now, you can't reach it. maybe it's safer behind closed doors, anyway. this might be better. this might be more accurate, to be left for dead with nobody around to save him.
he bleeds out, slowly. until finally the darkness takes him.]
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saturations) wrote2022-02-21 11:38 am
no subject
he brings his hands up like he's going to hold onto her shoulders, but they just end up hovering there, uncertain, not quite making contact.
and then the world is all pain and red. he tries to grab at her wrist to stop the stabs, but his vision is already going spotty. ]
no subject
she hiccups, and pulls the knife slow from damien's ribs. she coughs a little, splattering color all over him. it burns, acidlike. and then she pushes him away, to the floor, discarding him. or --
or maybe it's for his own good? maybe. because when she sees him bleeding on the floor, she chokes, eyes glowing wildly red, and turns the knife on herself. her chest, her stomach, and then, with a brutal finality, through her own throat.
she collapses. the black space is silent.]
no subject
damien is never good at keeping away from things when he should. keeping away from people who are bad for him.
or people that he's bad for.
"You were in pain, screaming in pain, and I couldn't run to you fast enough. I couldn't save you."
"A nightmare based on something that never happened. Because I did save you. I did."
but the injuries are too much. he doubles over, curling in on himself with one arm over his bleeding stomach and the other still pressed to his throat. when he opens his mouth all that comes out is a pained groan.
"I need you to save me, now, Marā¬"
it's hard to think through the hurt. it's hard to feel anything but this crushing, confused despair, and anger, and - the fear that looms over him like his own inescapable shadow. is he going to wake up back in the AM again? or this time is he just going to be left for dead like all of them had really wanted? ]
no subject
whispers gather around the edges of the two of them, indecipherable but for a few. familiar voices. are these his friends? has he ever really had anybody at all, or has he pushed them away? are you waiting for something to happen? it won't. and there was something you were supposed to remember, but even now, you can't reach it. maybe it's safer behind closed doors, anyway. this might be better. this might be more accurate, to be left for dead with nobody around to save him.
he bleeds out, slowly. until finally the darkness takes him.]