[ Ah, that rips. His knuckles slam into the side of Mika's face, and with that comes the removal of the teeth from his skin; not without consequence, of course. They rip, tearing out of his flesh, and with it comes the scraping pain. There's nothing numbing it down, no pleasant waves to drown it out, but all he can do it grit his teeth and swallow his saliva.
He's felt worse. He's lived through worse. The bullets had hurt, perhaps worse than this, and he can handle this much.
Hand flying up his shoulder in an attempt to staunch the bleeding, he takes one step back as Mikaela does in turn. There's a light in the other's eyes now, a sense of humanity there wasn't before, and perhaps the impact had had the effect he'd hoped it would.
But that doesn't quite matter, because in the next moment, he's turned to bolt, and Shinji's abruptly lunging forward to latch tight onto one of his arms to prevent his escape. This probably makes him a hypocrite in some way, he thinks, between the beat of his heart and blood pulsing through his fingers. But he can't let him go. ]
Idiot, why the hell are you running away? [ It's a hiss, and his grip tightens as much as possible. In this moment, he's seeing himself, on the dark night of October 4th. ] Do you think that's gonna fix it? You can feel sorry for yourself after you deal with it...!
[ Otherwise, what will he do? What he did, perhaps, to go wallow and try and forget? Or something else, that's also crossed his mind in recent years, when the memories get nearly too much to bear? Either way, he won't allow it; not because he wants to make amends, but because he doesn't want someone to make the same mistake.
His gaze snaps down to Tatara as the movement, the wheeze, and he gives a frustrated growl before he promptly pulls his hand back to start pulling his coat off. Tearing it will take too long, too much effort, when the other man is already so pale. ]
Dammit. If you've got the energy to try and run off from the scene, [ He's pressing the cloth to the older man's neck, eyes dark beneath the shadow of a mussed beanie. ] you can go and get some damn help. Now!
[ Hopefully, the dark will swallow up the way his hands are shaking. ]
( It's Tatara's strained voice that falters his step, that split-second long enough to let Shinjiro grab him, berate him - fairly, correctly; not with words Mika can argue with. He doesn't turn. His arm is taut as the whole of him strains away from Shinji, like a wild animal caught - but he hears him, and he grits his teeth, and he doesn't argue, not a word.
He can't fix anything. He can only break. He could justify the harm he did so long as he had to stay alive to protect Yuu; but now - what reason does he have to explain why he's still here?
When Shinji finally lets go to attend to Tatara, Mika stumbles, but hesitates; still poised to run, but torn. He sees them over his shoulder, out of the corner of his eye, and the way the blood glistens in the moonlight, and he feels
hunger twist his stomach, and temptation at his back, again. It overwhelms his fear. It overwhelms his regret. It reminds him of what he is, in the end - a creature that feeds, and feeds, and feeds.
It's Shinji barking orders that jostles him back to reality, and without a word he looks forward again - and takes off, without a word.
It's not clear if he really intends to get help, but the pivot in his step makes it clear enough, at least, that he's not heading toward any manor exit this time, but toward the portion of the building where everyone sleeps.
He can't fix things, and he can't do any good. But other people can. And maybe he can manage that much. )
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He's felt worse. He's lived through worse. The bullets had hurt, perhaps worse than this, and he can handle this much.
Hand flying up his shoulder in an attempt to staunch the bleeding, he takes one step back as Mikaela does in turn. There's a light in the other's eyes now, a sense of humanity there wasn't before, and perhaps the impact had had the effect he'd hoped it would.
But that doesn't quite matter, because in the next moment, he's turned to bolt, and Shinji's abruptly lunging forward to latch tight onto one of his arms to prevent his escape. This probably makes him a hypocrite in some way, he thinks, between the beat of his heart and blood pulsing through his fingers. But he can't let him go. ]
Idiot, why the hell are you running away? [ It's a hiss, and his grip tightens as much as possible. In this moment, he's seeing himself, on the dark night of October 4th. ] Do you think that's gonna fix it? You can feel sorry for yourself after you deal with it...!
[ Otherwise, what will he do? What he did, perhaps, to go wallow and try and forget? Or something else, that's also crossed his mind in recent years, when the memories get nearly too much to bear? Either way, he won't allow it; not because he wants to make amends, but because he doesn't want someone to make the same mistake.
His gaze snaps down to Tatara as the movement, the wheeze, and he gives a frustrated growl before he promptly pulls his hand back to start pulling his coat off. Tearing it will take too long, too much effort, when the other man is already so pale. ]
Dammit. If you've got the energy to try and run off from the scene, [ He's pressing the cloth to the older man's neck, eyes dark beneath the shadow of a mussed beanie. ] you can go and get some damn help. Now!
[ Hopefully, the dark will swallow up the way his hands are shaking. ]
no subject
He can't fix anything. He can only break. He could justify the harm he did so long as he had to stay alive to protect Yuu; but now - what reason does he have to explain why he's still here?
When Shinji finally lets go to attend to Tatara, Mika stumbles, but hesitates; still poised to run, but torn. He sees them over his shoulder, out of the corner of his eye, and the way the blood glistens in the moonlight, and he feels
hunger twist his stomach, and temptation at his back, again. It overwhelms his fear. It overwhelms his regret. It reminds him of what he is, in the end - a creature that feeds, and feeds, and feeds.
It's Shinji barking orders that jostles him back to reality, and without a word he looks forward again - and takes off, without a word.
It's not clear if he really intends to get help, but the pivot in his step makes it clear enough, at least, that he's not heading toward any manor exit this time, but toward the portion of the building where everyone sleeps.
He can't fix things, and he can't do any good. But other people can. And maybe he can manage that much. )