SEND ME A SYMBOL FOR ANGST; NOT ACCEPTING
⚰: my muse’s reaction to watching yours die from afar
Practised movements allowed him to swiftly change over his web canisters with little trouble, dodging out of the way without looking when a flying razor disc came his way, spider senses having alerted him. Refuelled, Giles shot a web at a goon progressing on Orion, trusting the mutant boy could look after himself, but not wanting him to get overwhelmed. With that, he shot a web up high to gain altitude, flinging himself back into the fray.
So many enemies to focus on, little time to mentally react, have to react physically without thinking. As he twisted and turned to avoid being hit by this person or that, he heard a cry coming from his far left. He didn’t register it, at first, until it clicked over, snapping his head in the direction of the noise.
He could look after himself, right? Rain down lightning bolts? Summon up a gust of wind to knock them back? Hail? Something? Anything.
His energy pulsed, alerting him to a blow coming from the direction he had initially pulled his gaze from. Unable to react quick enough, Giles was blasted back, body slamming against a brick wall. Pain, can’t focus on it, push past, you’ll heal. Groaning, Giles peeled himself off the wall, blinking to focus, eyes searching for more information on his friend.
Only to find he was having trouble defending himself. Immediately, he sprang back into action, shooting webs left right and centre and yanking them back, trying to pull the onslaught from him. A few more blows landed on his friend, a wound from a blade that looked out of this world. It probably was. Desperate, Giles pushed himself to run faster, Venom Strike-ing his way to him, rendering enemies stunned momentarily. So close, arm reached out– Have to make it, have to help, nothing bad is going to happen–
Only. It did. He wasn’t fast enough, wasn’t diligent enough, wasn’t strategic enough. Maybe all of the above, maybe more. But that didn’t change what was unfolding before his eyes. A blast, from a cannon bigger than the two trans boys combined, vaporising everything in its path. Giles let out a choked gasp, stumbling forward, arm falling from where it was still reaching for Orion. Now made of stardust.
Numb? Full of rage? Stressed? Hysteric? He couldn’t comprehend his own emotions, acting on impulse. It was just them, they thought they could handle it. There was a dangerous enemy, no civilians, lots of bad guys.
Giles allowed the grief to overwhelm him, using it to fuel his powers. All the agony, distress, need for revenge… heartbreak.
His body buzzed, organic electricity generating, running through his veins, fingertips sparked, single lines of electricity connected them. He allowed the feelings to stew, eyes never moving from where Orion once stood, afraid that if he blinked, the image of him would disappear forever. It was getting hard to see, something wet rolled down his cheek, and with that–
“NO!” He screamed, eyes clenching tightly as tears were allowed to fall, body curled in on itself as a blast originated from Giles. They were gone, just as quickly as his friend had disappeared, eradicated.
“I’m sorry. I’m– I-I’m so, so sorry.” He quietly sobbed out, once he was left in the centre of the destruction, body completely drained of energy. “… Goodbye, weather wizard.” Was the last thing he whispered before his body slumped of its own accord, passing out from the exertion. He would process this later, would have to break the news. The next few days would be recovery, he would be useless, but that wasn’t so much of a change. He was useless in helping a friend. Unable to save Orion. What was he doing, if he couldn’t save those he cared about?