Round and round we go [CLOSED LOG]
Who: Envy [virulentfacade] and Zexion [pretexts]
What: Envy's about ten minutes from dying. He needs some help!!!!!!!!
When: Immediately following the end of this log. So Thursday night.
Where: Zexion's cabin.
Warnings: BLOOD. Everywhere. EVERYWHERE.
( Tell me what you gone and done now )
What: Envy's about ten minutes from dying. He needs some help!!!!!!!!
When: Immediately following the end of this log. So Thursday night.
Where: Zexion's cabin.
Warnings: BLOOD. Everywhere. EVERYWHERE.
( Tell me what you gone and done now )
The notion itself was entirely ridiculous but even more so was the very idea that Zexion would even want to.
Why?
Why the fuck would he go through such lengths to save him? It would have been expected of Dante. Somewhat. The woman had needed him. He'd been her most resourceful resource. But even then, surgery? He couldn't expect Zexion to understand how unnecessary--how funny--the very idea of it was. The Nobody knew that he could heal but perhaps he didn't understand the extent of it all.
But why? Why would Zexion want to save him so badly that he was willing to fucking operate? In a brief moment where his throat hadn't flooded with blood, he laughed, and it was bitter. This was stupid. It was all so fucking stupid. It wasn't as if Zexion could care. He wasn't capable. He'd said it himself and he'd said it more than once.
Slowly, carefully, he let himself back down onto his side, only then noticing the blood that had soaked into the floor around him. Ah, that was messy. How much fucking blood did he have in this body anyway?
He was tired. Exhausted. If he could close his eyes then he could sleep and he wouldn't need to worry about anything--
No. What the fuck was he thinking? That was the easy way. The easy way to get away from everything. Lust, like the coward she was, had let herself die. Greed had, too. They'd died. Was this how humans felt before they died? Weak. Vulnerable. Useless. Nothing.
His entire fucking being hurt most. Didn't Zexion understand that?
"No."
Envy was too tired to argue further. Too tired to fight. Breathing still hurt. Speaking hurt. Laughing hurt. Thinking hurt. How long, he wondered, did he have left?
The stones were somewhere. Think. Think.
A grin, then. Through the agonizing pain he offered a blood-filled grin (because he had enough left in him, at least, for that). "What will you do if I die? It'll make a mess."
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