[IC] You can't hide forever. (NSFW imagery/language/etc)
A crack of thunder startled Serathen out of a sound sleep, pale blue eyes snapping open and sheets sent sprawling with the abrupt, violent motion of his sitting upright. It took a few breaths before he realized the restraints were gone. He could move, though his arms still felt like lead weights. Why had they set him free?
"Khaavren?" Blue eyes turn to the space to his left. No paladin.
"Oriseus?" To the right, no warlock.
The sound of rain was the only noise breaking the silence, thousands of little raindrops pattering against the windowpane on the far side of the room. Long ears twitch to and fro, listening, stilling his own breathing in his effort to hear the rustle of his lovers moving in the other rooms.
Nothing.
Not even the sound of their wide assortment of pets. Just the rain and a distant peal of rolling thunder.
Slowly, stiffly, the 'quel'dorei' squirms his way to the side of the bed, swinging his legs out to rest his feet on the floor. He was sore all over, earning a faint groan as he forced himself to his feet. Slowly, Serathen shuffles his way over to the window to peer outside. The rain was falling in heavy sheets, mixing with the rolling fog that covered the streets outside to obscure much in the way of vision. Surely they hadn't gone out in this mess.
Surely they hadn't left him alone.
Serathen's throat constricts at that thought and he spends several long minutes just leaning against the window, forehead to the cool windowpane as he focuses on breathing. In. Out. Slow. Deep. Don't panic. They left before and they came back. They came back.
Finally, he pushes away from the window to turn and wander out to the rest of the house. No pets. Everything neat and clean and where it should be.
"Ori?" Silence.
"... Khaav? Please..." Please don't leave him here alone.
Serathen lifts a hand to scrub at his face with a low grunt of discomfort. Warm. Wet? He wasn't crying. Was he? He couldn't tell anymore. Light, but it was so embarassing to-
A flash of lightning illuminates his hand briefly and his breath catches. Not tears.
Blood.
The scent of it strikes him suddenly, sharp and metalic and overpowering. He nearly trips over a low table in his scrambled panic to get to the closest mirror, that hand pressing to his cheek once more. He could feel it now. Warm and slowly trickling down his throat. His shoulder. His chest and back. Serathen's breath catches as he turns on one of those magic orbs for light, staring wide-eyed at the image that greets him in the mirror.
Red. All over, red. His hair a wild mess of chaotic locks mussed this way and that, gleaming with the brilliance of flame, his skin streaked and smeared with blood, and an angry red wound deep enough to show bone and teeth and all manner of tissue not meant to be looked upon that raked across the left side of his face and throat. The blood trickling from the gaping, surely lethal wound was only enough to be felt. Not a torrent of life leaving him. But that didn't register.
Mindless panic is as much a defense mechanism as anything, though he doesn't scream as he scrambles back from the mirror until his back slams against the wall. The only sound he makes is a strangled little whimper between suddenly harsh breaths.
"Al'arien?"
This wasn't real. This wasn't real. It couldn't be real. He doesn't even think to fetch his clothing. Doesn't even notice the way his right thigh splits as he moves, as he runs, another wound down to bone, slicing through it. He shouldn't be able to walk, but walk he does. He runs. Runs to the front door. Alone, he would die like this. He needed help.
"Al'arien! Stop!"
What? No, he had to get away, he had to run!
"Red, stop! Help me! RED!"
No. He couldn't help anyone. He couldn't-- He stops at the front door. Freezes. The rain. It wasn't rain. It wasn't the rain that made that hissing, rattling, clicking noise. The scent of blood was too strong. They knew. He was crippled prey.
"Red, come back! Al'arien, please--!!"
Serathen looks wildly over his shoulder as that plea wells into a scream, shallow breaths hitching to a stop at the sight. Part of their home had ripped open, he could barely see out of his hiding place by the door as he hunches down and can't pull his gaze away from the little strawberry-blonde that still reached for him as a pair of ghouls drag her away. "K-kimae...? Kim... N-no..."
Betrayer. Traitor. Worthless coward. He couldn't move. She was screaming. They were ripping her apart and she was still screaming. Looking right at him. Why won't you help me? Why are you letting us die? Help us!
The screams cut off abruptly as he rips his gaze away, frantic motions fumbling with the door. Open. Open! He had to get out. His fingertips are scraped raw and bloody before he finally gets the door open and stumbles outside, breath coming in ragged gasps. The noise was everywhere. Run. RUN! Get away!
Bare feet slap out an urgent rhythm as he forces himself to run on legs that shouldn't be able to support his weight, leaving a trail of blood behind him. So much blood, why wasn't he dead yet? So much and all he could hear was his own pulse pounding in his ears, threatening to drown out that horrible sound of thousands of rattling bones and monsters and the softer sound of the still-falling rain.
At the courtyard, he stops dead. Over the sound of his own breathing and pulse, the other horrible noises stop as abruptly as they started. Long ears twitch upright, strain forward, focus on the rocky, uneven ground before him.
Bodies. Dozens and dozens of them. Scorched, impaled, shredded by shrapnel. All wearing the colors. Their colors. Tattered banners of a twin-headed phoenix hang around the courtyard of purple, uneven stone and nearby looms the broken Forge, leaking a sickening level of raw mana that hazes the air and pools in rivers of unnatural blue.
Stumbling down the steps to their perch, tears fall unfelt down Serathen's-- Kae's-- Al'arien's face. Two. Two didn't wear their colors. The Undercity. The Dawn. They were the wrong colors. They...
"Kh-... Khaavr-... Or..i..? N-no... No... Please... Please!"
Scrambling the rest of the distance, off the ledge, scraping and cutting hands and feet on sharp stone as he lands and struggles to reach their side, he already summons the Light in an effort to get them to their feet. He couldn't do this. He couldn't heal, but he /had to/. They were there and he could bring them back, quickly before the Scourge came!
"Don't leave me! Don't! Please!" It's what he deserved, though, wasn't it? He left them to die. He left them all to die. And finally. Finally. He screams. Hunched down into a miserable heap with his bloodied hands fisted painfully into the shock of flame-red hair.
Some phoenix you are.
Nothing but ashes.
There's no life in you.
You can't save anyone but yourself.
Selfish prick.
Motion.
Looking up, hope springing to life in his eyes, the names of his lovers ready to be formed on his lips instead form a wordless cry of terror as horrible creatures begin to tear their way out of the rainsoaked corpses. Bloody, gaping maws filled with razor-sharp teeth turn on him, tentacles coiling to rocket the fleshbeasts at him and rip him apart.
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Serathen snaps awake, thrashing wildly against the thick leather straps holding him in place, mildly distressed whimpers ramping up in volume to panicked screams that don't stop until he's screamed himself hoarse. Only then, only when he can finally hear something over himself do the soothing, worried words of his lovers break through the terror. They were there. They were alive.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the 'quel'dorei' settles back against the bed, sobbing brokenly for some time. Finally, exhaustion forces him to calm down enough that his breathing evens out, but he refuses to open his eyes. It was just a dream. Shh, it's okay, it was just a dream.
If only that were the truth.