Wither says *several minutes had passed before he heard anything, giving his thoughts time to settle. What would happen now? How was he going to get out of this? Better yet, would he get out of this? A foreign sensation sank to the pit of his stomach; were he alive, he could almost call it fear. It gradually started to grow, slowly at first, before picking up as more of his thoughts caught up with him. You fool. A sudden voice broke the veil of silence pounding in his ears. I can never rely on you to keep either of us safe. You're pathetic. There was an unsettling, nearly blood-curdling venom laced within the voice that didn't seem to come from any direction in particular, but from all at once. It laughed, Are you going to force me to take care of your little predicament? Considering you can't do anything right, you insolent, pitiful excuse of a man... But wait, you're not a man, are you? A condescending chuckle. No... He had to remain calm. He knew what would happen if he lost too much of his composure, and even in an isolated area such as this, the risk was too great. It was not a mindless beast -- it would easily find a place to lay waste to if it wanted. He couldn't let his fear or anger get the better of him this time... As he caught the sound of footsteps, his eyes closed, thinking that one of his pursuers had finally caught up with him, ready to face whatever outcome awaited him. When an unfamiliar voice reached his ears, however, he blinked and cast his lifeless gaze toward the stranger, mildly shocked to see someone else out here* ... "Interesting? Friends?" *as soon as he'd asked, the distant sound of voices reached his ears again. Oh.* "They... They are not friends." *not being able to feel any pain was probably a blessing in his case at the moment, for were he still alive, he imagined he would begin to feel the blood weighing down on his head and his limbs aching from the uncomfortable manner in which they hung* |
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