[Looks at my 4. Well. There will definitely be accidental stabbies!!! Yay!!!! "There would've been anyway" listen yeah but it's more fun this way
Dahut falls half on him, and, unfortunately, so does the dagger!! Right in his side, which I so conveniently have an icon for. Wow. Crazy how that worked out. He sucks in a breath through his teeth at the pain, which never really gets any easier to handle, despite how many he's fought. How many he's killed. For her.
For her--
The implanted memories surge, and his heart does, too. He forgets about the poison on the floor, or even the dagger, as he shoves Dahut off of him, rolling into his side in agony and clutching at his chest. SOMETIMES YOU'RE A BEING MADE OF LOVE AND THAT CAUSES A LOT OF PROBLEMS IN YOUR NEW BODY THAT CANNOT HANDLE LOVE,,,]
[WHY DID YOU DO THIS I HATE IT HERE IM LOSING MY MIND well. Dahut has now done more damage than he ever thought he could and it's entirely accidental this is so funny. He's officially harmed Luke more in this stupid 2 second scrap than he did in the entire yakety sax chase with Scien weeks ago.
He's shoved off and now there is more of him in this poison and glass puddle, and alarm bells ring because he'd forgotten about it while he was trying to break free but he's being forced to remember it very quickly. A burning sensation starts almost immediately at the points of contact the liquid's made with his open wounds, and he yelps and scrambles upright, more glass embedding in his palms, leaving drips and streaks of blood across the floor.
A glance over to the side when he reflexively reaches to snatch his dagger back reveals Luke looking like he's seen better days, and for a brief second, Dahut goes cold wondering if he'd hit somewhere lethal. That's the last thing he wants, but is it?
Or is this what he's looking for? His chance. It'd be an easy matter to run over while Luke's distracted and drive the blade through his throat, sever an artery, end it. He could. He should. Logically, this is the fastest way out. He's fond of Luke, but what does fondness mean? Normally, he's prone to quick action to the point of recklessness, but now, it takes him seconds just to position the dagger offensively. This is it. This is it--
This really is it because a bitch touched a fast-acting poison and seconds later, he's coughing up several mouthfuls of blood.]
Imagine if I said this set off a TB attack, how funny would that be. Just two fools coughing on the floor like losers.
But no, that would be too easy. Instead, Luke fights through the pain, letting his paranoia drag his thoughts away from Rosa and back to the now. He can hear Dahut moving, and his mind tells him that Dahut can't be trusted--that Dahut's fear will win out, and he will strike with purpose, and Luke will meet his end.
By the time he faces Dion, that thought won't seem so bad. But right now, he still has hope. He puts pressure on his wound as he rolls over, his gaze darting to Dahut--only to see him coughing up blood?! BINCH STOP COPYING HIM THOSE ARE HIS TB SYMPTOMS WHAT THE FCK.]
[STOP PLEASE THE BLOOD ALL OVER THE FLOOR AS THE PERSON WATCHING IS LIKE 🧍♂️
Dahut will not stop copying Luke's TB symptoms though BINCH. IT'S HIS TB SHOW NOW. Which is to say he's really coughing up a lot of blood! He can't stop! There's something pale and panicked in his expression but he's still gripping this dagger like his life depends on it even as he collapses onto the floor and convulses. Wow this happens to him a lot.]
[LMFSKDJHGKS WELL MAYBE OBSERVATION JIM SHOULD'VE THOUGHT OF THAT!!!!
But okay, well. DAHUT IS HAVING SUCH A BAD TIME RIGHT NOW. Seeing him in this sorry state breaks the hold his anxiety has on Luke--all at once, memories of the Eudora slam back into his head, forced through by guilt and terror. He scrambles over, grabbing Dahut by the shoulders and dragging him halfway into his lap, away from the spill. His hands are bloody, but Luke pays no mind to his own wounds.]
Hang on, just hang on--
[Hang on for what? There's nothing Luke can do for him here. But he looks around futilely anyway, frantic eyes darting towards the window, the door, trying desperately to catch sight of those heartless figures that shoved them in here.]
He doesn't have the same strike of clarity as Luke. His head is still a fuzzy jumble of memories and bloodshed and betrayal, getting fuzzier still as he shudders and jerks, froth and blood oozing from his mouth.
But he does, at least, recognize this: that despite his fear, and in spite of his own intention to leave here at the cost of a life, Luke has chosen to treat his with care. To attempt and save it, even. His body cramps and spasms in a way he can't control, but at the very least, he works hard to force his stiff and twitching fingers to relinquish their hold on the blade. A thanks, since he can't get his words out, can't even smile.
Here - half in the lap of one of the friends he can call his own, only half-remembered - he takes his last few choking gasps, chasing visions of warm smiles and hands and kinder times.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Dahut falls half on him, and, unfortunately, so does the dagger!! Right in his side, which I so conveniently have an icon for. Wow. Crazy how that worked out. He sucks in a breath through his teeth at the pain, which never really gets any easier to handle, despite how many he's fought. How many he's killed. For her.
For her--
The implanted memories surge, and his heart does, too. He forgets about the poison on the floor, or even the dagger, as he shoves Dahut off of him, rolling into his side in agony and clutching at his chest. SOMETIMES YOU'RE A BEING MADE OF LOVE AND THAT CAUSES A LOT OF PROBLEMS IN YOUR NEW BODY THAT CANNOT HANDLE LOVE,,,]
no subject
He's shoved off and now there is more of him in this poison and glass puddle, and alarm bells ring because he'd forgotten about it while he was trying to break free but he's being forced to remember it very quickly. A burning sensation starts almost immediately at the points of contact the liquid's made with his open wounds, and he yelps and scrambles upright, more glass embedding in his palms, leaving drips and streaks of blood across the floor.
A glance over to the side when he reflexively reaches to snatch his dagger back reveals Luke looking like he's seen better days, and for a brief second, Dahut goes cold wondering if he'd hit somewhere lethal. That's the last thing he wants, but is it?
Or is this what he's looking for? His chance. It'd be an easy matter to run over while Luke's distracted and drive the blade through his throat, sever an artery, end it. He could. He should. Logically, this is the fastest way out. He's fond of Luke, but what does fondness mean? Normally, he's prone to quick action to the point of recklessness, but now, it takes him seconds just to position the dagger offensively. This is it. This is it--
This really is it because a bitch touched a fast-acting poison and seconds later, he's coughing up several mouthfuls of blood.]
no subject
Imagine if I said this set off a TB attack, how funny would that be. Just two fools coughing on the floor like losers.
But no, that would be too easy. Instead, Luke fights through the pain, letting his paranoia drag his thoughts away from Rosa and back to the now. He can hear Dahut moving, and his mind tells him that Dahut can't be trusted--that Dahut's fear will win out, and he will strike with purpose, and Luke will meet his end.
By the time he faces Dion, that thought won't seem so bad. But right now, he still has hope. He puts pressure on his wound as he rolls over, his gaze darting to Dahut--only to see him coughing up blood?! BINCH STOP COPYING HIM THOSE ARE HIS TB SYMPTOMS WHAT THE FCK.]
Dahut--?!
no subject
Dahut will not stop copying Luke's TB symptoms though BINCH. IT'S HIS TB SHOW NOW. Which is to say he's really coughing up a lot of blood! He can't stop! There's something pale and panicked in his expression but he's still gripping this dagger like his life depends on it even as he collapses onto the floor and convulses. Wow this happens to him a lot.]
no subject
But okay, well. DAHUT IS HAVING SUCH A BAD TIME RIGHT NOW. Seeing him in this sorry state breaks the hold his anxiety has on Luke--all at once, memories of the Eudora slam back into his head, forced through by guilt and terror. He scrambles over, grabbing Dahut by the shoulders and dragging him halfway into his lap, away from the spill. His hands are bloody, but Luke pays no mind to his own wounds.]
Hang on, just hang on--
[Hang on for what? There's nothing Luke can do for him here. But he looks around futilely anyway, frantic eyes darting towards the window, the door, trying desperately to catch sight of those heartless figures that shoved them in here.]
Enough! End it!
no subject
He doesn't have the same strike of clarity as Luke. His head is still a fuzzy jumble of memories and bloodshed and betrayal, getting fuzzier still as he shudders and jerks, froth and blood oozing from his mouth.
But he does, at least, recognize this: that despite his fear, and in spite of his own intention to leave here at the cost of a life, Luke has chosen to treat his with care. To attempt and save it, even. His body cramps and spasms in a way he can't control, but at the very least, he works hard to force his stiff and twitching fingers to relinquish their hold on the blade. A thanks, since he can't get his words out, can't even smile.
Here - half in the lap of one of the friends he can call his own, only half-remembered - he takes his last few choking gasps, chasing visions of warm smiles and hands and kinder times.
Dahut is dead. Fourth time's the charm!]