imatreenow | thirteen [voice/action/just terrible]

[Mid-morning is drawing near, and the house is too quiet. Martel should have been awake already. Despite the uncertainty that has settled heavily between him and his sister, there are plenty of things Mithos does still know about her, and this is definitely out of the ordinary. Softly, he knocks at her door. No reply. With a knot of worry tightening in his stomach, he carefully pushes the door open to look inside and...

He's greeted by an empty room. No sister, none of her personal possessions. No sign that anyone had ever occupied this space. Only one conclusion sits at the end of this equation. Numbness overtakes his body and heart. Desperate, his mind fights against the truth; he runs for his journal and hastily, shakily, flips it open.]

[VOICE - filtered to Martel | filter VOIDED]

Martel? Martel! Where are--

[--He stops. The filter isn't working. She can't hear this. His journal falls from his hands and the feed ends. The chilling realization that she's gone pierces him as suddenly as the first time she was taken from him. Classic vertigo. He doesn't know how to breathe properly. He forgets how to stand on two feet and slowly crumples to the floor. He doesn't fall to pieces; that would imply that there's something left to break. Whatever remains is quickly grinding to dust. He lets it out, the pain that's rapidly smothering him from the inside. But no matter how much he diffuses, there's still more to take its place.]

[ACTION - AFTERNOON]

[He's scraped himself up off the floor (for now) and run out of tears (for now), and he needs someone to blame. Anyone. He doesn't care. The only truth of the world: Martel is gone, and he deserves compensation for his loss. Everyone owes him something, and he owes them retribution. Mithos prowls the village, looking for any and all opportunities to inflict some of his own pain on a scapegoat.

Later, when he's exhausted his body but his hurt and rage continue to burn, when he's hit the point where he can't feel any emptier, he reaches for the journal again. It's all he can think to do.]

[VOICE - filtered to Kaori| 100%]

...Can I come see you?

[ooc: For my own sake, chronologically the threads flow as follows: Frey, Nephry/Dist, Jeb, Silver, Grune/Dhaos, Kratos, Kaori.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[As if she could look away.

But- he missed! Twice, no less. Was he...was that intentional?

Her head is starting to cloud, and the hand on his shoulder for support tightens. The last thing she needs now is to fall over, to get in the way.]

[One of the shots grazes his shoulder but he barely registers the pain through all the layers of turbulent emotion. He'll keep running forward, swinging his blade across Dist's body with as much force as he can put behind it...]

[Not really intentional, no. His arm is bleeding heavily, and his breathing is becoming ragged, vision blurred... On top of that, Dist never was a good shot.

But Mithos barreling toward him again is pretty much impossible to miss. Snarling, Dist pushes Nephry out of the way, for her safety, and fires again. The bullet, at such a close distance, will tear through the left side of Mithos' chest, and even damage his wing a little bit as well, as it exits. It's not enough to kill him, but it will seriously cripple him.

However, Dist still gets hurt. The blade pieces his side, digging into his flesh. Not a deep wound, and it could be treated if he gets help fast, but damn does it hurt.]

[Well, the ground is probably safer than standing directly behind Dist while Mithos is swinging a sword at him. But it's still hard to land on.

She looks up in time to see both bullet and sword hit their marks, unable to contain a gasp.]

Stop!

[A searing pain splits through his chest and he drops to his knees to clutch at where the bullet of fonons entered. Luckily it only clipped his wing, damaging some feathers but leaving nothing too heavy. All he can focus on at the moment is the pain though, as he breathes roughly, in out in out in out it hurts. He's still firmly clutching his sword in his other hand, pushed against the ground in an attempt at support, knuckles white.]

[Excellent, it worked. Dist breathes out, and clutches at his own wound, hoping to stop the flow of blood even a little bit. Little brat...how dare he! How dare he do this to him and Nephry! Dist raises a shaking hand once more, but it's a half effort; the gun is lowered before he even brings it high enough to aim. He's tired, and weary from his injuries. The adrenaline is wearing off, and Dist can't keep this up. He's amazed he has managed to stay standing for this long. His tenacity truly is something.

But Nephry's isn't, and he's concerned. She sustained heavier damage, he expects, and goes to her side as quickly as he can without falling.]

Nephry...we need to leave. Immediately. Can you stand? Lean on me if you must.

thirteen [voice/action/just terrible]

[action] Dist are you a stormtrooper.

[action] the one that runs into the doorframe

[action] woman shut up, i am saving your life.

[action] by throwing her to the ground. gj disto.

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