[ He’s so lost in the loud and erratic throbbing of his own off-beating heart that he doesn’t catch that faint sound. Dextera is on his last breaths, it looks like, so surely he wouldn’t waste any of them on him. The kitchen was his best bet, after all. He’s pulling towels from the cupboards and drawers, leaning heavily against pieces of the house to support himself.
He can’t feel his limbs right now, and the pain is so bad he’s not sure he can feel it anymore. That’s all familiar, just like the overwhelming dizziness that has him more crashing in the directions he wants to go than walking. He’s rushing, so he can try to rush back— he hasn’t even realized Dextera has stood, or that he’s trying to come this way. There’s blood caked over one of his eyes, and the other is blurred from the strain on his body.
”You’re going to overdo it like that, Guren. Can’t you rely on me for a little help?”
He doesn’t reply. He’s too worried about taking too long. There’s panic in every motion, and his rushing steps to carry these towels back like they’ll be enough to buy him time is enough to have him crashing to his knees again, grunting. He blinks up, where he was headed, and sees Dextera’s unstable figure. ]
Stop... [ He doesn’t even have the energy to yell right now, even if he wants to. Seeing Dextera up and moving is bringing him panic. ] Stay off your feet, idiot. I’m almost...
[ On his knees isn’t almost, and his stomach throbs with whatever organs of arteries had been ruptured that still haven’t been dealt with in their entirety. Guren clutches at one of the towels, trying to keep his eyes on Dextera. He’ll crawl over to him if he has to. ]
Dextera! Don’t you dare die on me! [ It’s more of a crack of desperation than a true yell. How sad is this? Two people trying to save each other when they’re already this bad. It’s so terrible he could almost laugh. He’s the one yelling for him not to die, while his demon continues to tell him that he will too, unless he gives in. ]
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He can’t feel his limbs right now, and the pain is so bad he’s not sure he can feel it anymore. That’s all familiar, just like the overwhelming dizziness that has him more crashing in the directions he wants to go than walking. He’s rushing, so he can try to rush back— he hasn’t even realized Dextera has stood, or that he’s trying to come this way. There’s blood caked over one of his eyes, and the other is blurred from the strain on his body.
”You’re going to overdo it like that, Guren. Can’t you rely on me for a little help?”
He doesn’t reply. He’s too worried about taking too long. There’s panic in every motion, and his rushing steps to carry these towels back like they’ll be enough to buy him time is enough to have him crashing to his knees again, grunting. He blinks up, where he was headed, and sees Dextera’s unstable figure. ]
Stop... [ He doesn’t even have the energy to yell right now, even if he wants to. Seeing Dextera up and moving is bringing him panic. ] Stay off your feet, idiot. I’m almost...
[ On his knees isn’t almost, and his stomach throbs with whatever organs of arteries had been ruptured that still haven’t been dealt with in their entirety. Guren clutches at one of the towels, trying to keep his eyes on Dextera. He’ll crawl over to him if he has to. ]
Dextera! Don’t you dare die on me! [ It’s more of a crack of desperation than a true yell. How sad is this? Two people trying to save each other when they’re already this bad. It’s so terrible he could almost laugh. He’s the one yelling for him not to die, while his demon continues to tell him that he will too, unless he gives in. ]