They had tried, once, in their curiosity. They had received the cryptic, overwhelming words of an undying flame and the sheer, searing hatred of a light forgotten. They had never tried again, after that.
They have to remember they're in a battle, but still -- it's so warm. It's more welcoming than they would have expected.
So odd, to be recognised, to be acknowledged, by the lingering ghosts of those you've never met. They wonder faintly if this is what it feels like for the dreams of those they put to rest; just to be held, waiting. Sleeping.
Wake, the god says (commands?) and they do, because vision or not, welcome or not, the fight still continues.
The sudden pain of injury shocks them into reality once more. The spikes of Grimm's cape might not be as traumatic as Radiance's blades, but they hurt just as much; it bites into their left side, their left shoulder, and pushes them away. They grip their nail more tightly in response, letting the pain focus them.
(This wound, too, does not heal. A reminder, a regret. Something they want to remember.)
Their left hand is weak enough that it hurts to raise their nail. They reinforce it with their right, lunging forward to strike him again - a thrust of their nail, not a slice like before. They leave a trail of shadow from their injuries in their wake, bleeding darkness the way he bleeds red smoke. ]
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They had tried, once, in their curiosity. They had received the cryptic, overwhelming words of an undying flame and the sheer, searing hatred of a light forgotten. They had never tried again, after that.
They have to remember they're in a battle, but still -- it's so warm. It's more welcoming than they would have expected.
So odd, to be recognised, to be acknowledged, by the lingering ghosts of those you've never met. They wonder faintly if this is what it feels like for the dreams of those they put to rest; just to be held, waiting. Sleeping.
Wake, the god says (commands?) and they do, because vision or not, welcome or not, the fight still continues.
The sudden pain of injury shocks them into reality once more. The spikes of Grimm's cape might not be as traumatic as Radiance's blades, but they hurt just as much; it bites into their left side, their left shoulder, and pushes them away. They grip their nail more tightly in response, letting the pain focus them.
(This wound, too, does not heal. A reminder, a regret. Something they want to remember.)
Their left hand is weak enough that it hurts to raise their nail. They reinforce it with their right, lunging forward to strike him again - a thrust of their nail, not a slice like before. They leave a trail of shadow from their injuries in their wake, bleeding darkness the way he bleeds red smoke. ]