[ A voice. Guren hears it this time, and he’s a little stunned. They’re so soft, those words, but Dex is still putting in that effort. Guren is worried that he’s pushing himself too hard, and yet, on his own knees in front of him, struggling to keep his own consciousness, he doesn’t waste time thinking that about himself. One of his hands clutches at a towel, and his other reaches to grip at Dextera’s fingers and give them a squeeze. ]
Where’s your worst wound? [ He prioritizes Dex, of course, finding what he believes to be the injury causing the most blood loss and immediately pressing against it, trying to stop the blood. He ties towels around them when he can, but if there’s a particularly nasty one that’s not easy to wrap, he tells Dex to keep pressing it down, to hold it there.
Neglecting his own injuries starts to catch up to him quickly. His world spins, his body aches, and now he thinks this must be some sort of magic attack that blocks his demon. The regeneration, specifically. He had called for Mahiru’s strength back in that fight, and the curse marks were there now, creeping along to his wrists from his arms, above his collar from his neck, but it wasn’t enough, it seems. He tries to take a deep breath and his chest stings sharply. His hand grips at Dextera’s shoulder for it, and his eyes drift closed, struggling.
Staying awake is becoming more difficult, but he can’t rest until he knows Dextera won’t bleed out.
”Guren...” It echoes in his mind, but he can tell it’s useless now. That block has kept back any healing above his arteries and organs closing up. Skin is still wide open, and a weak hand finally presses a towel over his own chest, where the worst is. He forces his eyes to open, even if one is exceptionally difficult to with the blood. ]
You’re gonna be okay. [ He’s telling himself just as much as he’s telling Dex. ]
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Where’s your worst wound? [ He prioritizes Dex, of course, finding what he believes to be the injury causing the most blood loss and immediately pressing against it, trying to stop the blood. He ties towels around them when he can, but if there’s a particularly nasty one that’s not easy to wrap, he tells Dex to keep pressing it down, to hold it there.
Neglecting his own injuries starts to catch up to him quickly. His world spins, his body aches, and now he thinks this must be some sort of magic attack that blocks his demon. The regeneration, specifically. He had called for Mahiru’s strength back in that fight, and the curse marks were there now, creeping along to his wrists from his arms, above his collar from his neck, but it wasn’t enough, it seems. He tries to take a deep breath and his chest stings sharply. His hand grips at Dextera’s shoulder for it, and his eyes drift closed, struggling.
Staying awake is becoming more difficult, but he can’t rest until he knows Dextera won’t bleed out.
”Guren...” It echoes in his mind, but he can tell it’s useless now. That block has kept back any healing above his arteries and organs closing up. Skin is still wide open, and a weak hand finally presses a towel over his own chest, where the worst is. He forces his eyes to open, even if one is exceptionally difficult to with the blood. ]
You’re gonna be okay. [ He’s telling himself just as much as he’s telling Dex. ]