[drown? no, none of his dreams had an ounce of water: only fire, only ash, only wood -- ]
[there's a sightless lacquer to his eyes that doesn't comprehend those shameful tugs of stubborn fabric (lucky Shoot) nor seem to even notice the urging on his arms, his weight at least a full third more than the younger boy's while soaking wet. he isn't going anywhere, not like this, not with his chest heaving and his legs so useless]
[his hung-open mouth is filled with the taste of dust and stale soap -- what is this? his own? all he wants is for a claw-formed hand to reach back and dig at skin, blunt nails burrowing beneath that robe and scoring five long tallies from the bottom of his shoulderblade to the side of his neck]
[trying to claw out what's already stubbornly on its way]
Shit -- hurts. [it's quiet and the fabric falls from his mouth, another ragged gasp of pain when his white robe goes dark crimson, primary feathers jabbing wickedly out of stretching flesh]
no subject
[there's a sightless lacquer to his eyes that doesn't comprehend those shameful tugs of stubborn fabric (lucky Shoot) nor seem to even notice the urging on his arms, his weight at least a full third more than the younger boy's while soaking wet. he isn't going anywhere, not like this, not with his chest heaving and his legs so useless]
[his hung-open mouth is filled with the taste of dust and stale soap -- what is this? his own? all he wants is for a claw-formed hand to reach back and dig at skin, blunt nails burrowing beneath that robe and scoring five long tallies from the bottom of his shoulderblade to the side of his neck]
[trying to claw out what's already stubbornly on its way]
Shit -- hurts. [it's quiet and the fabric falls from his mouth, another ragged gasp of pain when his white robe goes dark crimson, primary feathers jabbing wickedly out of stretching flesh]
Pull... pull them. Pull 'em out.