Proof. That was easier SAID than DONE. He wanted evidence but how was he supposed to give him anything viable when he hadn’t even a sliver of trust in him to let him move around? It was almost laughable how wired this man was—so strung on something that Oslyeus couldn’t see. If he was to compare this stranger to anything, it was like having stepped into a wolf’s den and all he was looking for was a place to sleep. Rationality was almost absent but it was the smidgen of uncertainty that seemed to be what kept him alive, breathing. There was enough hesitation that Oslyeus hadn’t yet heard the click of the gun and the world hadn’t yet swept with blackness. He was alive but why? Why was he hesitating? Oslyeus already made it clear that he was done feeding into this game where he only said the truth and was bitterly smothered with protests. He would much rather bite the bullet than play hostage anymore. All he could do was grimace as his captor applied pressure and snarled at him to spew something more.
What he didn’t know was that they weren’t alone—not until his perpetrator’s attention flickered away from him. He felt the glaring tension sweep briefly apart from him and to the buildings in their immediate area. Blinking back to attentiveness, he straightened only slightly or as much as his detainer would let him. Eyes flit around the scene before catching the glint of metal in a faraway window. “–!” He hadn’t enough time to say anything over his subduer. All he could do was channel his energy, all of it into his calves and feet, digging his heels into the ground—he thrust all his weight and force into the man behind him. The amount of strength applied was enough to parry a demon but that wasn’t Oslyeus’ intentions to reveal that he had the power to retaliate. Just narrowly, a dart skimmed his shoulder and ripped a new tear onto his already tattered sweater. Blood dotted his clothes but the amount of curious liquid hadn’t injected into him, rather it lay splattered on the concrete in the mess of shattered glass.
“—we’ve to get out of here…!” He suddenly was in a frenzy, writhing to free himself from his holder. He didn’t just try to wiggle his arms free, his whole body was in motion—like a feral feline thrashing to escape the noose of some ‘nappers. Fear traced through his eyes like wildfire, he wasn’t as invincible as one might have thought but it wasn’t his capturer that had him panicking.“Let go–! You’ve to just TRUST me! Please—” words were thrown in his struggle, the longer he held on the more Oslyeus began to distort his limbs just to escape. He would break the rest of his bones if it meant escaping those looking from afar. “—they’re not my friends!”
Unforeseen. It was too sudden for the ghoul to pick up on what was happening. Fetid body stunned for a second, no movements could be detected and only his shocked stare fixed on the newly torn sweater from the out of nowhere dart glided across the other’s shoulder. It was too fast and abrupt for him to sense for its upcoming. Feeling something suck in his throat and for a while, nothing could catch his focus. It was as if his mind went blank upon the event taking place before him.
When a concerned voice of the male hit his eardrum, the raven lifted his head away from the shoulder and locked his eyes with the others. Face creased when realizing how deadly the situation had become. Sniffing the metallic scent coming from the man, he gulped down his accumulated nervous. It was clear the invaders from the distance were not together with this person, who he still has a firm hold of the other’s wrist. His instinct told him that whoever these intruders were, did not bring any good feeling. Though, somehow watching them, for an odd reason, an image of past flash through his mind, reminding him of the moment when he was a youth.
Clicking his tongue, stress clouded his expression as he unconsciously stiffened the iron grip of the other while his view remained fix toward the possible threats. Part of him wanted to believe every word coming from the other, considering how serious the tone was, but his pride would not let him, thinking that what if this was an act to turn him in and thus confining him while in a defenseless state? He would not ever give them any chance for it to take place.
“T... Trust you? Do you think I would believe you after what you did? You seem to know them well. Why don’t you start speaking... who are they... and why does it look like they are after you?” Krost frowned, huffing out a tense breath as he narrowed his charcoal hues at the intruders, not letting his eyes stray away from them. Why does he have a gut feeling that these people are not something he should be messed with? Something definitely off.
Sensing as a cold, dead chill spreading throughout his whole injured frame, a slight took of a forward step while still insisting on not allowing the other escape from his grasp, “You...” he loudly voiced out a word and, without any delay, he directed his handgun toward one direction, across them. Although it was dim, he somehow able to make out the shadowy figures, “Why don’t you guys just scram. This is between me and him.” While strengthening his focus, his eyes darting around, he needed to find a way to secure an escape route. It was rather evident he could not fight against that many opponents.
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