It hurt. Like a vice around his heart; like shrapnel through his blood. His circuits sung out in pain, on fire, like hot needles directed ever inward. He’d pushed long past the point of fighting; the limited of battles he’d be able to participate in lost somewhere long ago. Here it was that Kirschtaria finally stalled; out of breath, out of energy, of anything to give but blood to a cause still widely unknown. An idealist to the end, truly.
Sounds of concern. Someone asking if he was alright, followed by the press of a hand against his shoulder. “There’s no need for that. While your concern is appreciated, but this is no more than a superficial ache.” He was nothing if not stubborn. “It would be remiss to spend so much time on me alone. If you relent now, the pathway to the upper city will close.”
@sanctummilitis
