[Time passing wasn't his concern, and for him, it felt like molasses in a mind that was still sharped with the residual effects of a panic. His thoughts shot forward and backwards, reexperiencing the sensation, the memories in sharp clarity, the sensations of fingers on his neck, the taste of acrid poisonous water invading his mouth, nose and the cuts on his face. His blooded fingers touched the scar under his eye, a reminder that the past remained woefully in the past.
He wasn't hurt, neck wound aside. His eyes drank in the familiarity of his office, and his ears were keen to pick up any sound that could be danger. The slide of material on material and hard surfaces, the rhythmic boom of the base from the floor below, and the sounds of breathing. His breathing, each breath loud and quicker than it should be. The other noises confirmed that he wasn't alone in the room, that Richard was likely still there, though the state of them both was already called into question.
His body ached from the tumble now that the adrenaline was receding, leaving his body trembling from unspent energy. He shook for a good few minutes after he had called his lover's name, twining his fingers together for an attempt at control. He didn't know how long he sat there behind the couch, but the blood was drying on his face from where he smeared it and there was a wet spot on the collar of his shirt from scratching open the wound on his neck.
Slowly, he convinced himself to turn over to his knees and reached up to grasp the back of the couch. He carefully hauled himself up to his feet, pale and shaky, and he surveyed the room. Richard over there by the desk, chair now close to the window with two knife wounds in the leather, and his cravat a tattered cut mess on the floor.
Silco didn't lower himself to try to crawl over the back of the couch but used a hand to guide himself around the back, around the side and to the front. He stopped there, uncharacteristically uncertain where he wished to go. Comfort his lover, sit and put his face in his hands, or out of the room to the bathroom down the narrow hallway. His brain was still sluggish from the adrenaline abandoning him, so he didn't move further.
Soon, soon the anger would come unbidden. The old boiling fury the suffused him to buoyed him to embracing survival. Not yet. He knew it was coming, always did.]
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2025-01-06 01:52 pm (UTC)He wasn't hurt, neck wound aside. His eyes drank in the familiarity of his office, and his ears were keen to pick up any sound that could be danger. The slide of material on material and hard surfaces, the rhythmic boom of the base from the floor below, and the sounds of breathing. His breathing, each breath loud and quicker than it should be. The other noises confirmed that he wasn't alone in the room, that Richard was likely still there, though the state of them both was already called into question.
His body ached from the tumble now that the adrenaline was receding, leaving his body trembling from unspent energy. He shook for a good few minutes after he had called his lover's name, twining his fingers together for an attempt at control. He didn't know how long he sat there behind the couch, but the blood was drying on his face from where he smeared it and there was a wet spot on the collar of his shirt from scratching open the wound on his neck.
Slowly, he convinced himself to turn over to his knees and reached up to grasp the back of the couch. He carefully hauled himself up to his feet, pale and shaky, and he surveyed the room. Richard over there by the desk, chair now close to the window with two knife wounds in the leather, and his cravat a tattered cut mess on the floor.
Silco didn't lower himself to try to crawl over the back of the couch but used a hand to guide himself around the back, around the side and to the front. He stopped there, uncharacteristically uncertain where he wished to go. Comfort his lover, sit and put his face in his hands, or out of the room to the bathroom down the narrow hallway. His brain was still sluggish from the adrenaline abandoning him, so he didn't move further.
Soon, soon the anger would come unbidden. The old boiling fury the suffused him to buoyed him to embracing survival. Not yet. He knew it was coming, always did.]
...are you alright?