(no subject)
Hazily, distantly, he's aware of familiar sounds: screams, sobs, voices muttering and shouting and just plain exhausted. Familiar smells: blood and Shadowspawn ichor, smoke, filth, ozone and choking dust. And somewhere, very far off indeed, the awareness of a bond that would once have mattered; slightly nearer, the raw wound of the shattered bond that did matter.
Everything's dark, though. He doesn't know if his eyes are closed.
He doesn't care.
Because mostly what he's aware of is cold, and lethargy, and the distant pain of a dozen wounds. The mother's last embrace is very near.
I'm sorry, my heart, he would think if he had the energy for it, but he has none left. So he doesn't.
Just waits for peace to finish carrying him away.
Everything's dark, though. He doesn't know if his eyes are closed.
He doesn't care.
Because mostly what he's aware of is cold, and lethargy, and the distant pain of a dozen wounds. The mother's last embrace is very near.
I'm sorry, my heart, he would think if he had the energy for it, but he has none left. So he doesn't.
Just waits for peace to finish carrying him away.