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128 » let the lightning strike; let the flash of it shock you
[There are no thoughts. With one final searing tug he frees his hands from the ropes; he lunges for a spear, urgency guiding his arm, and heaves it point-first directly at the heart of the Electro Archon.
An action punishable by death, swift as the lightning's strike. But he is already dead, worse than dead, with the Vision gone and his last hope of fighting the Decree- flying in his direction as the Shogun parries the spear and so cannot strike her killing blow, and Aether's headed his way and Thoma opens his arms and shifts his stance and breathes out hard as soon as the traveler's shoulders make contact with his chest.
He's awake. Thoma can see his eyes fighting to open, a damn sight better than staring at his prone unconscious body just a second ago, and when the eyes of the soldiers toward them Thoma stops thinking again. His arms go around Aether and his feet start running and there is a cliff behind them, before them, sitting well above its counterpart on the opposite side.
Thoma leaps.
Air beneath his feet. The weight of Aether dragging his arm and shoulder, curtailing the arc of their jump. The terrible desperate comfort that even falling to the rocks below would be better than getting caught (again) by the Shogun.
Then his heels strike the grass and he bends into a sloppy roll, forcing him to release Aether with only the certainty that they're both on solid ground.
There isn't time to feel any pain over it. Any jump he can make will be a meaningless step for the Shogun or one swift order for her soldiers. Thoma staggers to his feet and bends immediately to pull Aether upward, grateful for whatever help Paimon tries to give him.]
Come on! [No time for fixing his voice. If it's harsh, pleading, encouraging, whatever, he hardly even hears it in himself. Aether doesn't seem to respond either. The traveler's eyes are barely open. Thoma's thoughts run even faster than his legs as he braces Aether's weight against him again so they can move. The teahouse. It's the only safe place. Can Aether hear him? He's alive, that's more than most can say after a direct strike, but he could be dying, Thoma's chest aches from catching the whole of him after throwing that spear, unbelievably reckless, could have gotten them all killed in the second it took for the Shogun to raise her eyes, he's out of breath too fast and they're taking the back way to the teahouse which isn't exactly paved in neatly laid stones-
Aether stumbles, nearly bringing them both down. Paimon's cry of surprise is somehow the most upsetting thing in Thoma's ears today; he plants his feet and shifts his hold on the traveler.]
It's not far. [Not quite a lie. Thoma stoops to adjust his grip; the place he usually keeps his Vision now feels weightless, empty. Unbalanced. But he can feel the Vision itself nearby, Aether has it, it isn't in the statue.] Just a little further, Aether, come on.
[He can't drag him along. He'll try anyway, a series of urgent tugs and quick steps until Aether gets his bearings again.]
An action punishable by death, swift as the lightning's strike. But he is already dead, worse than dead, with the Vision gone and his last hope of fighting the Decree- flying in his direction as the Shogun parries the spear and so cannot strike her killing blow, and Aether's headed his way and Thoma opens his arms and shifts his stance and breathes out hard as soon as the traveler's shoulders make contact with his chest.
He's awake. Thoma can see his eyes fighting to open, a damn sight better than staring at his prone unconscious body just a second ago, and when the eyes of the soldiers toward them Thoma stops thinking again. His arms go around Aether and his feet start running and there is a cliff behind them, before them, sitting well above its counterpart on the opposite side.
Thoma leaps.
Air beneath his feet. The weight of Aether dragging his arm and shoulder, curtailing the arc of their jump. The terrible desperate comfort that even falling to the rocks below would be better than getting caught (again) by the Shogun.
Then his heels strike the grass and he bends into a sloppy roll, forcing him to release Aether with only the certainty that they're both on solid ground.
There isn't time to feel any pain over it. Any jump he can make will be a meaningless step for the Shogun or one swift order for her soldiers. Thoma staggers to his feet and bends immediately to pull Aether upward, grateful for whatever help Paimon tries to give him.]
Come on! [No time for fixing his voice. If it's harsh, pleading, encouraging, whatever, he hardly even hears it in himself. Aether doesn't seem to respond either. The traveler's eyes are barely open. Thoma's thoughts run even faster than his legs as he braces Aether's weight against him again so they can move. The teahouse. It's the only safe place. Can Aether hear him? He's alive, that's more than most can say after a direct strike, but he could be dying, Thoma's chest aches from catching the whole of him after throwing that spear, unbelievably reckless, could have gotten them all killed in the second it took for the Shogun to raise her eyes, he's out of breath too fast and they're taking the back way to the teahouse which isn't exactly paved in neatly laid stones-
Aether stumbles, nearly bringing them both down. Paimon's cry of surprise is somehow the most upsetting thing in Thoma's ears today; he plants his feet and shifts his hold on the traveler.]
It's not far. [Not quite a lie. Thoma stoops to adjust his grip; the place he usually keeps his Vision now feels weightless, empty. Unbalanced. But he can feel the Vision itself nearby, Aether has it, it isn't in the statue.] Just a little further, Aether, come on.
[He can't drag him along. He'll try anyway, a series of urgent tugs and quick steps until Aether gets his bearings again.]