"Why did you do that????"
@ghosthuntcr // Shielding Others
Artair can't form the words to answer at first. They coagulate and stick in his mouth like the blood he swallows down. It stains his teeth and he swipes his tongue over them before he speaks.
"I-it-- it's okay. I'm okay. I--- I think it missed. I'm--- I'm just stuck." There is no way to truly block out all the pain. It grinds into him with reality's heel, with a fervor that nulls any chance to dissassociate. There is no escape and it all feels like teeth in a cavern like this.
The cave-in has him pinned from the chest down, and he can feel where rock has punctured him beneath the rubble. That his voice doesn't wobble is a testament to his effort, and to just how many moments he has been here. Here in the countless times he has to be a shield because it's what he's good for, suffering and desperate to bury it all beneath a soothing smile. It is something he is conditioned for, though. It feels good even as it hurts, seeing Steph beside him, unscathed save for a few scuffs. He's safe. And he is made for pain, deserves it. He will take it in and hold it there until he's stronger, until it can't reach him anymore.
So he persists and tries to bury it in the ground, even as the crushing weight grinds against his bones and tears through viscera, radiating its uncaring agony through him. He tries as it crushes him, as it caves into him, as it treats his body like a plaything in a hydraulic press, weight compounding with every minute against his broken frame. There's a moment where he's silent so he doesn't make a noise, throat squeezing blood and an overwhelming loss of self back down. But he just has to endure. He's made for it and he won't die, not forever. He'll be fine and it won't matter soon. Steph isn't hurt. That's worth it. He doesn't need this guilt too.
His brow beads with sweat and his his hair is splayed under him, strands pinned in rubble. His face is bloodless and pale, but he smiles and speaks with a radiating calm.
"It--- it'd be good for you to get out of here, Steph." He has to pause not to wheeze. Some of the weight on his chest is increasing. He continues in that relief-threaded, mellow tone once he has enough air in his lungs. "This cave is dangerous with the highway above vi-- vibrating through the tunnels. I'm okay, but-- but it might be good to call for help. That scratch looks--- it looks pretty nasty too. I'll try to-- to get myself out, maybe? I might be able to squirm free if I'm careful. But-- but if you don't call anyone, no one will know there's trouble."
That he can think enough to be reasonable feels monumental. He can hardly focus and his vision is starting to blur. He has to exhale with so much control. But Steph came in alone, and he followed to make sure nothing happened. It was all he could think of.
His arm is numb and his vision is tinted green. He needs Steph out. "It-- it wouldn't be good for us both to get pinned down. And you might not be so lucky. Can you-- can you do that? I'll be okay here. I'm okay right now. But I need your help. I need you to do that. P--please."