Mika Whitepaws (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wolfishsurvivalist) wrote2015-07-19 06:16 pm
wolfishsurvivalist) wrote2015-07-19 06:16 pm
Entry tags:
✖ if I die before I wake ✖
She'd sensed something was wrong. There was something in the air that made her heart race. Run. Run now. But even with her heart hammering in her ears she hardly had enough time to sort out where it was before they'd trapped her.
She could have sworn they were there for her. They should have been there for her, weren't they always? But no. No they weren't and she didn't wrap her head around it until she was screaming Michon's name--behind you!--but it was too late.
It was always too late.
"No..." Why was there always so much blood? Her pulse raced so hard and fast her chest ached, stomach churning as the tears spilled down her cheeks and tracked through the blood he smeared across her skin. Aerith didn't care, eyes squeezed shut as she held his hand tighter, willing her breathing to slow and her heart to grow still. A breathless, teary laugh escaped her and she shook her head. "No Michon, don't worry about that. You're here now, that's what matters. Just stay with me a little longer."
She had to hurry.
Already his hand had gone cold, and brushing her fingers across his lips sent another stab through her heart as she felt the chill starting there too. Brows setting, she swallowed around a thick lump in her throat. No time left anymore.
"Just stay with me for a little longer..." Closing her eyes, she murmured softly, rocking gently over the mafioso in her lap (as if she'd cared, she'd seen worse, run from worse, it all made sense now that she thought about it). Letting all the cares and worries drift from her mind save for one.
Don't go yet, Michon. Not now. Not yet.
Eyes closed tight and head bowed, her words were a soft murmur that rose and fell like a gentle current at first. Then a hint of pleading crept into her voice, her long ears folded flat against her thick hair, hands still clasped around his raising to her lips as she prayed harder than she had in a long time. Aerith didn't even open her eyes as she felt the cool breeze lift the hair across her forehead. Hardly noticed that it soothed the feverish ache in her cheeks, that didn't matter.
The fact that she heard Michon breathe again did.
It was only when she felt his fingers warm again beneath her touch that she stopped, bowing over him until her forehead pressed tight against his damp shirt. When she felt the warm touch of metal she almost flinched, until she realized it was a warped slug that had been pushed clean out of his body as the tissue mended beneath it. Only then did she begin to laugh in relief, tears sliding down her cheeks to dampen his shirt even more.
She could have sworn they were there for her. They should have been there for her, weren't they always? But no. No they weren't and she didn't wrap her head around it until she was screaming Michon's name--behind you!--but it was too late.
It was always too late.
"No..." Why was there always so much blood? Her pulse raced so hard and fast her chest ached, stomach churning as the tears spilled down her cheeks and tracked through the blood he smeared across her skin. Aerith didn't care, eyes squeezed shut as she held his hand tighter, willing her breathing to slow and her heart to grow still. A breathless, teary laugh escaped her and she shook her head. "No Michon, don't worry about that. You're here now, that's what matters. Just stay with me a little longer."
She had to hurry.
Already his hand had gone cold, and brushing her fingers across his lips sent another stab through her heart as she felt the chill starting there too. Brows setting, she swallowed around a thick lump in her throat. No time left anymore.
"Just stay with me for a little longer..." Closing her eyes, she murmured softly, rocking gently over the mafioso in her lap (as if she'd cared, she'd seen worse, run from worse, it all made sense now that she thought about it). Letting all the cares and worries drift from her mind save for one.
Don't go yet, Michon. Not now. Not yet.
Eyes closed tight and head bowed, her words were a soft murmur that rose and fell like a gentle current at first. Then a hint of pleading crept into her voice, her long ears folded flat against her thick hair, hands still clasped around his raising to her lips as she prayed harder than she had in a long time. Aerith didn't even open her eyes as she felt the cool breeze lift the hair across her forehead. Hardly noticed that it soothed the feverish ache in her cheeks, that didn't matter.
The fact that she heard Michon breathe again did.
It was only when she felt his fingers warm again beneath her touch that she stopped, bowing over him until her forehead pressed tight against his damp shirt. When she felt the warm touch of metal she almost flinched, until she realized it was a warped slug that had been pushed clean out of his body as the tissue mended beneath it. Only then did she begin to laugh in relief, tears sliding down her cheeks to dampen his shirt even more.