[Nyx is fully aware when he's been stuck with something, and another something, and he knows his body well enough to understand it's something small and not a knife or bullet. He's as fully aware of this as he is the push back of meat against his blade, the sensation of what his friend's blood feels like over his hand, how slippery the handle of the blade gets with the thick liquid, and over the top of all of that the awareness that Kaz isn't fighting back.
Fight me! he wants to scream, take me out! So much better that, than this. Nyx feels only a little relief as he becomes aware that his body is losing its ability to function and a fog seeps down through his mind. It might be too late already. He might have killed his dear friend.
And then there is swirling darkness and part of him hopes that he never wakes up. He died once; he isn't afraid of that. The small peace he felt at the end in Insomnia isn't allowed to him in this moment. I've killed him, I might have killed both of them, all of them...
When he wakes up it's a slow process. His groggy mind seems to be his own, his limbs sluggishly moving yes but they are moving when he-himself wants them to. Nyx winces softly for the awkward angle he's been lying on his leg, then rolls over and plants his hand on the floor to push himself up. When he sees his blood soaked hand and arm he feels a wave of nausea hit his stomach and another wave of vertigo. Nyx closes his eyes and struggles through it to finish pushing himself up to stand.
Pointedly not looking at his hand, he assesses the situation as best his drugged mind can.]
Boss?
[The title has become far less that and much more a nickname of endearment over the past few months. Nyx stumbles over to the prone form and he falls to his knees, his expression bordering on agonized with the guilt pounding through him.]
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Fight me! he wants to scream, take me out! So much better that, than this. Nyx feels only a little relief as he becomes aware that his body is losing its ability to function and a fog seeps down through his mind. It might be too late already. He might have killed his dear friend.
And then there is swirling darkness and part of him hopes that he never wakes up. He died once; he isn't afraid of that. The small peace he felt at the end in Insomnia isn't allowed to him in this moment. I've killed him, I might have killed both of them, all of them...
When he wakes up it's a slow process. His groggy mind seems to be his own, his limbs sluggishly moving yes but they are moving when he-himself wants them to. Nyx winces softly for the awkward angle he's been lying on his leg, then rolls over and plants his hand on the floor to push himself up. When he sees his blood soaked hand and arm he feels a wave of nausea hit his stomach and another wave of vertigo. Nyx closes his eyes and struggles through it to finish pushing himself up to stand.
Pointedly not looking at his hand, he assesses the situation as best his drugged mind can.]
Boss?
[The title has become far less that and much more a nickname of endearment over the past few months. Nyx stumbles over to the prone form and he falls to his knees, his expression bordering on agonized with the guilt pounding through him.]