[It's quiet, the control finally releases him, and in his desperation, Henry doesn't immediately realize what that means. He sags against the floor, muscles twitching from being overextended for too long, limbs scrambling to adjust to movement again. It's a rough scramble of effort to reach Ryan's side, skidding on the blood that was already beginning to spread. Even if his throat hadn't been crushed, blood loss would've done its work soon enough.
And it's not like the shadows were going to take something like death as a cue to retreat. Without the need to hold him down, they slash more recklessly, jolting his body with each strike, though he can't bleed any more, only drip. It's worst around his throat, that crushing pressure turned to gnawing, pulling and rending his neck apart, until there was little more than scraps of skin and bone.
Henry claws at it once he reaches him, curling over and pleading with it to stop, and by the time the darkness finally decides to settle elsewhere, he has a hand in Ryan's throat, and he's struggling to breathe.]
Get... get up Ryan, it's okay now, I stopped it--
[It's so soft, it's barely audible, and with the way Henry's staring at him, it's obvious that nothing's really sunk in yet. His other hand cups his face, nudges it, strokes his hair- even as he's doing nothing but staining it, his breath going more and more shallow as time passes and he gets no response.]
Please Ryan, I'm sorry, I'll listen to you next time, just, please--
[A sharper nudging, tears burning his face as he huddles closer, curls up over what was left of his chest, still occasionally murmuring for him to move.
The shadows still remain, breaking things around the room, cutting into walls, gouging holes into the door. Henry doesn't notice, barely conscious himself, when a single word finally manages to form in his thoughts.
Help. He needed help. It's reflex that has Henry fumbling with the bracelet, before the rest of his mind catches up to remind him it's too late.
And whose fault was that? Henry's silent as the recording starts.]
no subject
And it's not like the shadows were going to take something like death as a cue to retreat. Without the need to hold him down, they slash more recklessly, jolting his body with each strike, though he can't bleed any more, only drip. It's worst around his throat, that crushing pressure turned to gnawing, pulling and rending his neck apart, until there was little more than scraps of skin and bone.
Henry claws at it once he reaches him, curling over and pleading with it to stop, and by the time the darkness finally decides to settle elsewhere, he has a hand in Ryan's throat, and he's struggling to breathe.]
Get... get up Ryan, it's okay now, I stopped it--
[It's so soft, it's barely audible, and with the way Henry's staring at him, it's obvious that nothing's really sunk in yet. His other hand cups his face, nudges it, strokes his hair- even as he's doing nothing but staining it, his breath going more and more shallow as time passes and he gets no response.]
Please Ryan, I'm sorry, I'll listen to you next time, just, please--
[A sharper nudging, tears burning his face as he huddles closer, curls up over what was left of his chest, still occasionally murmuring for him to move.
The shadows still remain, breaking things around the room, cutting into walls, gouging holes into the door. Henry doesn't notice, barely conscious himself, when a single word finally manages to form in his thoughts.
Help. He needed help. It's reflex that has Henry fumbling with the bracelet, before the rest of his mind catches up to remind him it's too late.
And whose fault was that? Henry's silent as the recording starts.]