[Whatever vision he's following, whatever it was that prompted him to come all the way out into the forest like this, it isn't rational. Like the Crane's fear toxin had wound its way through the city and into his bloodstream, there is no being talked out of it. Some responses are too primal, too deeply connected to heart and history. Family, perhaps? A friend? A lover?]
I can't let you go.
[Bruce doesn't know who he is, but that detail is irrelevant. He waits just long enough to hear Riku begin moving again- focusing on something new. And that's when he begins to move again. Under the cover of distraction. Every now and again Riku's face turns towards the trees, trying to pick out his shape, but with his face and hands covered in black, there's even less distinction against the night.
He tucks the small bomb into the mouth of his boot and paces himself, rounding on the boy until he's at Riku's back, watching him pry the line from around his ankle and climb to his feet. There's a transfer of weight there, a barely noticeable shift. A sprain? A break?
This is the last chance he has- any hope Bruce might have of recognition. But he can't stall any longer. It's better to strike before he's had a chance to catch his breath, to think around the adrenaline flooding his veins.]
no subject
[Whatever vision he's following, whatever it was that prompted him to come all the way out into the forest like this, it isn't rational. Like the Crane's fear toxin had wound its way through the city and into his bloodstream, there is no being talked out of it. Some responses are too primal, too deeply connected to heart and history. Family, perhaps? A friend? A lover?]
I can't let you go.
[Bruce doesn't know who he is, but that detail is irrelevant. He waits just long enough to hear Riku begin moving again- focusing on something new. And that's when he begins to move again. Under the cover of distraction. Every now and again Riku's face turns towards the trees, trying to pick out his shape, but with his face and hands covered in black, there's even less distinction against the night.
He tucks the small bomb into the mouth of his boot and paces himself, rounding on the boy until he's at Riku's back, watching him pry the line from around his ankle and climb to his feet. There's a transfer of weight there, a barely noticeable shift. A sprain? A break?
This is the last chance he has- any hope Bruce might have of recognition. But he can't stall any longer. It's better to strike before he's had a chance to catch his breath, to think around the adrenaline flooding his veins.]