location: alley near an entrance to the ratway, hours after the attack status: for @cxrpscwitch
like oil on the ocean, smoke poured from the smoldering remains of the slat and into the street. the already darkened windows stained deeper, as if kissed by shadow, and doors were sensibly shut. matthias coughed and struggled to stay upright. smog aside, his vision was blurring badly, a side effect of the blood running into his eyes. he assumed it was blood; his hands felt wet to the touch and trying to clear his sight only obscured it more. he cut a path by touch instead, fingers jumping over the stones set into canals.
he thought he heard his name and snapped to attention, but if it had been called by someone close the stale wind quickly stole it and the drowsy shapes of taverns tossed it between them. but there it was, again. matthias. matthias! there was something wrong with the sound of it, the way it bounced of the glass, swallowed by the chaos around him and spat back out. he swung a hand around, searching, but only met air.
“nina!” his voice was rough, rubbed raw with smoke and hacking. if there was a reply, he couldn’t hear it. “nina!” he tried again, hoping. praying. what god might answer, he didn’t know. “nina,” he reached, blindly. “nina –”