Exhaustion swept though the old fighters body
as she brushed aside the grey hairs sticking to
her damp brow. The rotting smell and sweltering
warmth surrounding the chamber put pressure
on her already heaving lungs and tired body. Her
tone was gruff, and much more coarse in light of
her situation.
Extending a rough hand she gently, and with the
uttermost care, touched the boys arm. “I’ll just
take that as ‘yes.’” This wasn’t going to be easy,
and she doubted he’d be able to aid her much in his
state.
Genkai struggles to keep her tone soft, and fails as
the pitch rises to an almost cheerful lit. Forcing herself
to clear her throat, she coughs and looks down the
corridors awash with red and mold. The territory put to
shame any horror movie or fun house she’d visited before,
but for the time being it had gone quiet.
“I don’t think anymore of those things are around here,
why don’t we just try and keep moving. Do you have a name?”
The touch sent him reeling. What shallow sense of
peace he’d found was shattered, his arm wrenched from
her reach with a simper of distress. The bend and bow
of his spine continued, his breath harsh and heavy as he
began to stumble from one end of the hall to the other.
It was no fault of her own; her touch hadn’t in any way
been harmful or threatening. His fright was simply too
fresh, the danger too near as the beheaded lantern aside
his feet flickered, casting shadows of his quivering form
across the wall. Association molded his wounded mind’s
comprehension of the situation, feeling the Doctor’s hand
forcibly guiding him--despite the fact that he was not here.
❝ HNN--! Alright, alright...alright.
Moving, keep moving, name name name-- ❞
jacobvanloon
snowghoul
dailybridgerton
ellievsbear
theartofmadeline
discoholicmusic
vaporwave
