[ CLOSED ]

[evulsed]

characters: Vanitas, Castiel, Bruce, Riku — others TBA
location: the beach, the museum
date/time: between Feb 27 - March 1
content: Vanitas took a gamble that ended rather poorly
warnings: gore
other: will match format! will also use this as a bit of a catch all and update accordingly

Comments

[evulsed]

Panic surges through him at first. Not only is his body wrecked, but now he's being physically held down. A brief flash of a memory tears through him, sending him right back to the desert and the sand and the feel of a boot on the back of his head. Reflex, then, makes him go as still as he can— every muscle he can access locked in place in some animal effort to prevent any further pain from occurring.

It happens quickly, and ends just as fast with the punctuation of Riku's voice breaking through to him. Gasping for breath, Vanitas' wide eyes cut sidelong from where his cheek is pressed against the pillow, an attempt to look up and see. All that's in his vision is the dark color of Riku's clothing, his torso casting a shadow over him and blocking the lantern light— but as Vanitas' lungs remember to work, familiarity settles over him. The copper of blood lingers, but around that is a scent that's uniquely Riku. Not Darkness or Light, but something that always clings to his skin and his hair and his clothing.

Vanitas inhales and fights the urge to wince when it expands his ribs and pulls on his wounds. "Riku," He breathes, but there's urgency in the exhale. "Nothing followed me?"

[equinoctials]

He can smell the blood, the disinfectant, the scent of his Darkness, can feel the restrained swell of his chest as he inhales, thinks he can hear that silent hitch when Vanitas resists a wince. That's how close they are, but Riku doesn't re-establish distance when he isn't sure yet if Vanitas won't try to get up again.

"Nothing," promises Riku, "Nothing followed."

He's sure Castiel would have said something if there had been some impending danger, some circumstances that he could attribute to Vanitas's grievous injuries when he arrived in the museum. No- when Riku barged in, medical kit in tow, it was to see Bruce and Castiel manhandling Vanitas's unconscious form, drenched in his blood.

He hated it. Seeing Vanitas like that, insensate and bone-chillingly pliant, his pale skin streaked with blood. Well after the fact, Riku knows he was afraid he wouldn't make it, that maybe this would be the time he doesn't come back.

Finally, he eases back, cautiously.

"We're as safe as we usually are," he says truthfully, "...There's time enough later to gloat about you worrying about us." Such as when he's not critically wounded.

[evulsed]

Slowly, his heart rate starts to even out, and Vanitas closes his eyes with the unfamiliar sensation of relief washes over him. Those things... there was no easy way to fight them. All those blade-like arms, and they'd been so quick, and he'd been fading so quickly in the Darkness. Maybe he should have known, because if they appeared behind him they definitely would have ripped him to shred and he wouldn't be waking up to Riku at his back, but instead to the broad glow of a candle-lit altar.

"Shut up," His voice is rough as sand paper, and there's no bite in his retort; he's too tired, the adrenaline and the ache in all of him too intense. Riku is right— he was worried. It isn't the first time it's happened, but it is strange to hear it so plainly and know that it's correct.

He stays still, though some of the initial tension starts to ease from his body. It's clear he isn't going to try and leap to his feet, at the very least. His eyes cut back up to try and find Riku. It's— alarmingly vulnerable, to be like this. Vanitas can recognize that it's fear sizzling under his skin, despite the fact he knows Riku won't hurt him.