[ he feels owner fight until his very last moment. clawing, scraping, burning. what a brilliant, brilliant person. he loved owner. loves him, still—he'll bring him back. that was the entire point of this. nothing drives him forward like responsibility, and care, and love.
he spits out his friend's flesh and blood and looks over the creature, so deliriously in pain that he can't tell if it's there, and then drags his burnt-stabbed-brain-blasted body over to grab the pieces of the crest. his voice croaks out at nothing, alone. ]
`I think the work is far from over. You will have a whole world to repair, correct? With our help, of course.`
Sidon, without really intending, will find his body moving - along hallways and corridors he doesn't know how to navigate, except he finds that he does. The way is clear, now.
But after a while - it's hard to tell how long. Hours? A day? A week? He has to stop. He hears something.
[ his friends are dead. it hasn't really landed yet. he just has to bring the world back, the world with them in it, better and more whole than before.
so he goes.
and then, at... some point? he stops? he listens. what's this. ]
[ He finds himself coming to in the middle of the snow. Outside? When did he get outside? A long trail of blood is in the snow behind him, and a drag mark from where he's been hauling the Crest. Completed, it is enormous and heavy. Somehow he's been dragging it with easy.
well, it's actually singing. A loud, deep voice carrying a tune (rather well) in undercommon - but it gets cut off by a curt, sharp accented voice.
`Zoran, shove it - company's arrived.`
Before he can realize what's happening entirely, in a semi-circle around him is a group of people. Maybe some are more familiar than others, but you aren't quite sure how.
The purple tiefling in the center tilts his head at him, grinning a bit - casual. Calm. Oddly relaxed behavior, for the middle of Eiselcross in a snowstorm. In the same voice that had spoken out earlier:
[ wow this guy looks very punchable...... familiar but particularly punchable in this instance.
however, he's not really in much shape to fight anymore, considering owner and guy and even margaret with her gun the first day have really beaten him within an inch of his life. hard to think he can make a charm check right now. he finds the energy to huff, nearly a disbelieving laugh. ]
...Something like that, my friend. A journey, more like.
[ any cool impulse to try and kill these guys too? he's tired. ]
especially with how he's acting right now - hands going wide in a friendly ("friendly" gesture) - and stepping in closer. there are no cool impulses to kill these guys. in fact, his head is rather quiet right now all things considered.
maybe they've given up on him. left him here, in the cold. found someone better, more suitable to the task. the unfamiliar faces look a bit distrustful - hands tightening on weapons, but they look to Lucien first before doing anything, and he waves them off.
he steps in closer still, apparently not seeing this shot, sliced and burnt fish as much as threat. And then he reaches up to wrap a hand gently around his wrist. The hand has a red eye on the back it, glowing slightly in the dim light. ]
Ah, wonderful. I think you've reached the end of it. I'm grateful.
[ And then it's quick. Pain wracks every part of his body, his mind, rending it into bloody pieces - but ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
he spits out his friend's flesh and blood and looks over the creature, so deliriously in pain that he can't tell if it's there, and then drags his burnt-stabbed-brain-blasted body over to grab the pieces of the crest. his voice croaks out at nothing, alone. ]
Is that it...?
[ are they done, after this? ]
no subject
`I think the work is far from over. You will have a whole world to repair, correct? With our help, of course.`
Sidon, without really intending, will find his body moving - along hallways and corridors he doesn't know how to navigate, except he finds that he does. The way is clear, now.
But after a while - it's hard to tell how long. Hours? A day? A week? He has to stop. He hears something.
Voices. ]
no subject
so he goes.
and then, at... some point? he stops? he listens. what's this. ]
no subject
well, it's actually singing. A loud, deep voice carrying a tune (rather well) in undercommon - but it gets cut off by a curt, sharp accented voice.
`Zoran, shove it - company's arrived.`
Before he can realize what's happening entirely, in a semi-circle around him is a group of people. Maybe some are more familiar than others, but you aren't quite sure how.
The purple tiefling in the center tilts his head at him, grinning a bit - casual. Calm. Oddly relaxed behavior, for the middle of Eiselcross in a snowstorm. In the same voice that had spoken out earlier:
`Evening, friend. Out for a walk?`]
no subject
however, he's not really in much shape to fight anymore, considering owner and guy and even margaret with her gun the first day have really beaten him within an inch of his life. hard to think he can make a charm check right now. he finds the energy to huff, nearly a disbelieving laugh. ]
...Something like that, my friend. A journey, more like.
[ any cool impulse to try and kill these guys too? he's tired. ]
no subject
especially with how he's acting right now - hands going wide in a friendly ("friendly" gesture) - and stepping in closer. there are no cool impulses to kill these guys. in fact, his head is rather quiet right now all things considered.
maybe they've given up on him. left him here, in the cold. found someone better, more suitable to the task. the unfamiliar faces look a bit distrustful - hands tightening on weapons, but they look to Lucien first before doing anything, and he waves them off.
he steps in closer still, apparently not seeing this shot, sliced and burnt fish as much as threat. And then he reaches up to wrap a hand gently around his wrist. The hand has a red eye on the back it, glowing slightly in the dim light. ]
Ah, wonderful. I think you've reached the end of it. I'm grateful.
[ And then it's quick. Pain wracks every part of his body, his mind, rending it into bloody pieces - but ]
Sorry. Nothing personal. Only business.
[ it's done. Sidon is dead.
but I think some people are waiting on him. ]