"Lockon!" Allelujah's voice was drowned out by rain, "Lockon, wait!"
He had been in the kitchen when Neil thundered by; after days of being a nursemaid and housekeeper, the Irishman bursting by at the speed of sound was the last thing he expected. He only managed to catch, "Tieria," "hurt," and "help," and put the rest together.
Soon he was in stride with Lockon, grateful for his superhuman strength and stamina for once, "Slow down, you're going to injure yourself-" He gasped, "What's happened?!"
Tieria let the drenched journal fall into his bag and continued along the road despite Neil's orders to remain where he was. The irregular cadence of his sopping shoes rung in his ears, his slow, heavy steps hitting the road with a series of disheartening wet slaps. His hair, clothes and the contents of his bag had been ruined by rain and blood. The jagged open wound on his arm continued to bleed profusely. The entire limb had numbed to the point where he could no longer tell whether what coated his body was rain or blood.
Even in the state he was in, Tieria was ashamed to go home. Being mauled by one's employer wasn't exactly a common occurrence. And the fact that he'd been caught off guard and wasn't able to defend himself against (what he thought was) a human was twice as humiliating as any careless injury he'd ever sustained
( ... )
Allelujah's plea fell silent in Lockon's ears. He was too focused and preoccupied on his worry of Tieria's wellbeing to register that he had just been spoken to. The wind made the rain slap against his uncovered skin; his clothes were already drenched and clinging to his body. Even his eye patch was heavy and soggy with the cold, heavenly water. Neil's feet weren't falling on gentle terrain but it was too minimal for him to really feel it. He was numb. Everything except for his racing heart was numb
( ... )
Somehow, Tieria knew he wouldn't have a chance to hit the ground. Those strong arms were always a welcome change, especially if he was wet and cold. Whether it be physical or emotional, Tieria knew that whatever weakness he showed would be okay in Neil's eyes, and so he allowed himself to lie against him without any fuss or embarrassment.
"Don't be...afraid...I am conscious..."
He reassured himself, half-opening the eye that wasn't black and blue from the beating he received. The taste of his own blood dirtied his mouth where he'd bitten his tongue, making it unpleasant to even speak.
A call for his Madam would never be answered by her personally first. What kind of butler would he be if he let his Madam waltz into an unknown situation? Not that he was a particularly good butler, but he did love his Madam with all his twisted heart.
Thus it was he, and not Angelina Durless, who ran out into the rain with a heavy woolen cloak and a clatter of heels against slick roof tiles. Spotting the trio and the diluted trail of blood, Grell jumped from the roof in a whirl of black and red.
"Gentlemen." He greeted cheerily before frowning as he saw the wound. "Did someone bite you, dear? It looks like someone with a set of my pearly whites."
The Reaper bared his pointed teeth to punctuate his statement as he inspected the scene.
Comments 43
He had been in the kitchen when Neil thundered by; after days of being a nursemaid and housekeeper, the Irishman bursting by at the speed of sound was the last thing he expected. He only managed to catch, "Tieria," "hurt," and "help," and put the rest together.
Soon he was in stride with Lockon, grateful for his superhuman strength and stamina for once, "Slow down, you're going to injure yourself-" He gasped, "What's happened?!"
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Even in the state he was in, Tieria was ashamed to go home. Being mauled by one's employer wasn't exactly a common occurrence. And the fact that he'd been caught off guard and wasn't able to defend himself against (what he thought was) a human was twice as humiliating as any careless injury he'd ever sustained ( ... )
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"Don't be...afraid...I am conscious..."
He reassured himself, half-opening the eye that wasn't black and blue from the beating he received. The taste of his own blood dirtied his mouth where he'd bitten his tongue, making it unpleasant to even speak.
Reply
Thus it was he, and not Angelina Durless, who ran out into the rain with a heavy woolen cloak and a clatter of heels against slick roof tiles. Spotting the trio and the diluted trail of blood, Grell jumped from the roof in a whirl of black and red.
"Gentlemen." He greeted cheerily before frowning as he saw the wound. "Did someone bite you, dear? It looks like someone with a set of my pearly whites."
The Reaper bared his pointed teeth to punctuate his statement as he inspected the scene.
Reply
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