[M] And I Am Consequence
Posted: Sun Jan 20, 2019 7:13 pm
Dentis 27, 2718
Laboratory Beta · Night
Laboratory Beta · Night
The most difficult task, perhaps, had been convincing Jamie to turn and go back to their dorm once they reached the cold, darkened staircase. His help had been appreciated, the dark-haired, younger passive having assisted him in the walk to the stairs from the mess that was their dorm, leaving a trail of blood behind them on the ground, but he didn't want his help anymore. He wouldn't have taken it in the first place if he could've helped it, but he recognized the state of himself at current and wasn't going to push himself more than required.
That being said, he didn't want Jamie to finish the journey to the laboratory with him. Perhaps it was some form of spite, some issue of pride, he didn't know and didn't care. So once the younger had taken him down the stairs and to the door leading into the strange, dark halls, he had forced the man to turn around and leave him.
He wasn't entirely sure he would make it to the laboratory.
It was a mix of things that drove him forward; adrenaline, for one, that coursed through the veins that continued to spill his blood onto the cold ground. Fear, as well, that quickened his heart in his chest and threatened to send him into a panic over all the blood he'd lost already. Anger, an anger that stirred from within his sickened stomach and rose into his throat, an anger that kept him warm even in the cold, dark air of the hallway as he stumbled and pushed on. Confusion, for the patron's reasoning for such a violent punishment. Obviously there was more to it than a little spill, but what had he done against the man? What had he done to personally offend him in such a way that he believed this a worthy punishment?
Hatred. A powerful force driving him on; the darkness to his reddened eyes that glinted with nothing good.
Lars was a lot of things. Polite, dutiful, obedient. Unforgiving.
It was with Alioe's grace that he still had the key given to them by Professor Moore, and after a stumbling, struggling journey through the dark, the Hessean made it to Laboratory Beta. He was unable to go as far in as they had gone before, but it was enough for the passive, who seemed to collapse now that he felt himself in relative safety; falling to his already-bruised knees a mess of blood, bruises, and paleness. Even now the blood dripped from each infliction, a testament to his instability and a forming puddle of red liquid beneath him.
"Prof-rof--prof--Prof--Moore," called the injured Lars, his voice a strained and struggling sound against the silence before another choke interrupted him. A spatter of blood against the floor, burbling in his mouth and spilling down his chin.
He should've went to the hospital, shouldn't he.
Unable to keep himself upright any longer, Lars let himself fall forwards, onto his beaten face and the chill of the floor.
The hospital doesn't care about us, not like they do.
An exhausted sigh pushed its way from his mouth, his eyes closing as the struggle to keep them open overwhelmed him.
You said you wouldn't let him die. Don't let him die.
That being said, he didn't want Jamie to finish the journey to the laboratory with him. Perhaps it was some form of spite, some issue of pride, he didn't know and didn't care. So once the younger had taken him down the stairs and to the door leading into the strange, dark halls, he had forced the man to turn around and leave him.
He wasn't entirely sure he would make it to the laboratory.
It was a mix of things that drove him forward; adrenaline, for one, that coursed through the veins that continued to spill his blood onto the cold ground. Fear, as well, that quickened his heart in his chest and threatened to send him into a panic over all the blood he'd lost already. Anger, an anger that stirred from within his sickened stomach and rose into his throat, an anger that kept him warm even in the cold, dark air of the hallway as he stumbled and pushed on. Confusion, for the patron's reasoning for such a violent punishment. Obviously there was more to it than a little spill, but what had he done against the man? What had he done to personally offend him in such a way that he believed this a worthy punishment?
Hatred. A powerful force driving him on; the darkness to his reddened eyes that glinted with nothing good.
Lars was a lot of things. Polite, dutiful, obedient. Unforgiving.
It was with Alioe's grace that he still had the key given to them by Professor Moore, and after a stumbling, struggling journey through the dark, the Hessean made it to Laboratory Beta. He was unable to go as far in as they had gone before, but it was enough for the passive, who seemed to collapse now that he felt himself in relative safety; falling to his already-bruised knees a mess of blood, bruises, and paleness. Even now the blood dripped from each infliction, a testament to his instability and a forming puddle of red liquid beneath him.
"Prof-rof--prof--Prof--Moore," called the injured Lars, his voice a strained and struggling sound against the silence before another choke interrupted him. A spatter of blood against the floor, burbling in his mouth and spilling down his chin.
He should've went to the hospital, shouldn't he.
Unable to keep himself upright any longer, Lars let himself fall forwards, onto his beaten face and the chill of the floor.
The hospital doesn't care about us, not like they do.
An exhausted sigh pushed its way from his mouth, his eyes closing as the struggle to keep them open overwhelmed him.
You said you wouldn't let him die. Don't let him die.