[Haha. Well. The funny thing about this is that arguably, despite this being a much more depressing situation than the weight of what had occurred when their Permanent Depression first settled over them, the wisps around Kashuu seem to be... fading? Hm. It had started when Vin changed, and the number continues to drop even now, though it's not really notable to two creatures who are just husks of what they had been before, huh. The weight that had settled in his chest is no longer foreign like a binding shackle wrapped around his ankles, tugging him down, down into the bottomless sea. It's familiar, now - a heaviness with a clarity of thought. Ah. We're here again. We're back at this place, back in this bad situation. An endless cycle of hurt and hurting.
But maybe - hope catches in him, like the warm amber necklace he'd held so fiercely onto nights ago - this means they're almost, almost done.
He's crying again, maybe from the cathartic ease of that foreign weight, or from the heaviness of the new but familiar one. It's certainly not from the claws of what used to be Vin as they tear through his very nice jacket that he got from that elf he hit on a thousand years ago, or the ones that tear into his leg, severing flesh and muscle and tendon. He's a blade, after all. He's made to take a serious thrashing, even without being a tank on top of it.
He's also a blade that knows his limits.
The words that come from what used to be Vin twist into him, and he knows he'll carry them for life, along with every other scar he's collected here. Is that fine? Is any of this? It'll have to be, he guesses. He reaches out almost on reflex toward Vin, but pulls his hand back at the last second.]
--M'sorry.
[But he can't kill her, and he refuses to die here. He uses that 2 roll in an attempt to give poor sweet Juiqing a last strike which will probably also just bounce ineffectively off of her scales help, but the 15 is for his escape. He's attempting to tear himself away from both of them, turning away from where Ruby and Real Vax are and booking it out toward the city proper, where the sounds of war still cry.]
no subject
But maybe - hope catches in him, like the warm amber necklace he'd held so fiercely onto nights ago - this means they're almost, almost done.
He's crying again, maybe from the cathartic ease of that foreign weight, or from the heaviness of the new but familiar one. It's certainly not from the claws of what used to be Vin as they tear through his very nice jacket that he got from that elf he hit on a thousand years ago, or the ones that tear into his leg, severing flesh and muscle and tendon. He's a blade, after all. He's made to take a serious thrashing, even without being a tank on top of it.
He's also a blade that knows his limits.
The words that come from what used to be Vin twist into him, and he knows he'll carry them for life, along with every other scar he's collected here. Is that fine? Is any of this? It'll have to be, he guesses. He reaches out almost on reflex toward Vin, but pulls his hand back at the last second.]
--M'sorry.
[But he can't kill her, and he refuses to die here. He uses that 2 roll in an attempt to give poor sweet Juiqing a last strike which will probably also just bounce ineffectively off of her scales help, but the 15 is for his escape. He's attempting to tear himself away from both of them, turning away from where Ruby and Real Vax are and booking it out toward the city proper, where the sounds of war still cry.]