delta realizes his mistake exactly two seconds before ashe rams his knee into his side. everything is a blur from there — the knife to his throat, ashe's face looming over him, every spiteful word delta can't hear and fully appreciate, deafened to white noise under his own thundering heartbeat. time unfolds like a car crash, one moment stretched into infinity, and all delta can do is stare at the headlights of an oncoming disaster, helpless and paralyzed.
the sharp nick to his jaw spurs him back to the present, then ashe's voice in his ear. he blinks, the man's rotting face swimming into focus, and finally he wheezes a pained and belated breath through his teeth, fuck. for someone so small he packs a hell of a fucking punch. ]
I told you to fucking leave, didn't I? [ around a mouthful of blood, his words are garbled, dazed. he drives a clumsy elbow into ashe's sternum, with enough pressure to wind him, and rolls their positions, slamming his wrist into the sand until he drops the knife. everything is spinning, and when he reels away with ashe's knife in hand, he almost topples backwards off him.
sealing a spirit back inside the veil is more difficult when the veil is fucking broken. ashe's old friend is fully manifested, and where the night was almost unseasonably warm just minutes earlier, now every haggard breath steams the air, trapped in a bitter cold that sinks straight to the marrow. delta can't do shit if he gets his hands on ashe, not without hurting them both. his thighs clench ashe's hips, stabilizing himself on top of him as he curls the blade to his palm and slices deep from heel to wrist.
what happens next is an accident. ( that's what he'll claim if ashe ever asks, full eye contact so he doesn't think he's lying. )
his blood hits the sand as the dead man looms over them, bony fingers reaching for ashe's hair. delta thinks of anything except for earth, every nightmare vision he sees on the back of his eyelids when he closes his eyes at night, alone in his bed. anything except for home. anything except for here. down the beach, a woman gazing at the stars will look over at exactly the right time and watch ashe sink through the ground like its made of quicksand, with delta right behind him. she smells like liquor and weed. no one will believe her.
not even delta knows where they are when they blip from earth's dimension into this new, incomprehensible realm. they don't fall, they're just there, ashe's back to a rocky surface and a sky bleeding bright red above them. they're where what once looked to be a pathway leading to a temple made of too many impossible angles, between endless rows of half-collapsed pillars, wind howling like a banshee scream.
here, so far from the veil, the dead man turns to dust. delta can taste him in his mouth, stomach rolling.
fuck. fuck, fuck. ] Don't — [ his voice is lost to the wind. he drops the knife, cradling his injured hand to his chest, and stares down at ashe, stricken with a mixture of guilt and fear. don't panic. he's not done this since genevieve. ]
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delta realizes his mistake exactly two seconds before ashe rams his knee into his side. everything is a blur from there — the knife to his throat, ashe's face looming over him, every spiteful word delta can't hear and fully appreciate, deafened to white noise under his own thundering heartbeat. time unfolds like a car crash, one moment stretched into infinity, and all delta can do is stare at the headlights of an oncoming disaster, helpless and paralyzed.
the sharp nick to his jaw spurs him back to the present, then ashe's voice in his ear. he blinks, the man's rotting face swimming into focus, and finally he wheezes a pained and belated breath through his teeth, fuck. for someone so small he packs a hell of a fucking punch. ]
I told you to fucking leave, didn't I? [ around a mouthful of blood, his words are garbled, dazed. he drives a clumsy elbow into ashe's sternum, with enough pressure to wind him, and rolls their positions, slamming his wrist into the sand until he drops the knife. everything is spinning, and when he reels away with ashe's knife in hand, he almost topples backwards off him.
sealing a spirit back inside the veil is more difficult when the veil is fucking broken. ashe's old friend is fully manifested, and where the night was almost unseasonably warm just minutes earlier, now every haggard breath steams the air, trapped in a bitter cold that sinks straight to the marrow. delta can't do shit if he gets his hands on ashe, not without hurting them both. his thighs clench ashe's hips, stabilizing himself on top of him as he curls the blade to his palm and slices deep from heel to wrist.
what happens next is an accident. ( that's what he'll claim if ashe ever asks, full eye contact so he doesn't think he's lying. )
his blood hits the sand as the dead man looms over them, bony fingers reaching for ashe's hair. delta thinks of anything except for earth, every nightmare vision he sees on the back of his eyelids when he closes his eyes at night, alone in his bed. anything except for home. anything except for here. down the beach, a woman gazing at the stars will look over at exactly the right time and watch ashe sink through the ground like its made of quicksand, with delta right behind him. she smells like liquor and weed. no one will believe her.
not even delta knows where they are when they blip from earth's dimension into this new, incomprehensible realm. they don't fall, they're just there, ashe's back to a rocky surface and a sky bleeding bright red above them. they're where what once looked to be a pathway leading to a temple made of too many impossible angles, between endless rows of half-collapsed pillars, wind howling like a banshee scream.
here, so far from the veil, the dead man turns to dust. delta can taste him in his mouth, stomach rolling.
fuck. fuck, fuck. ] Don't — [ his voice is lost to the wind. he drops the knife, cradling his injured hand to his chest, and stares down at ashe, stricken with a mixture of guilt and fear. don't panic. he's not done this since genevieve. ]