[ Oh, yes, she notices something-- which immediately causes her alarm. Rem's free hand lifts to the side of his face, holding his head still as he struggles so she has a better look into his eyes. He can barely hold them open, though; and if she doesn't act quickly, then the brilliance of their blue-green color will be forever lost to the world, and his kindness will go with him.
But taking a second to look into them is all it takes to confirm that, indeed, a... creature is in there, hideous and inhuman, hide like shadow and teeth like razors, ready to devour all that is left of him. No wonder no one could find the demon before. It was with the victim all along, in a place close to their mind to manipulate their dream and have their presence masked by the victim's own soul. How is she going to get it out?
Perhaps she can attempt to harvest its soul, but would that cause damage to Zack's? What if she reaps the wrong one? Or what if doing so provokes the demon, making things worse? There's neither time nor saving grace of the sulfur from last time.
Her hand lips from his cheek, moving down to grasp his hand instead. Her fingers curl around his palm, tightly, securing the grasp when his own might fail. This time, instead of telling him to keep them open, she tells him, quietly: ] ...Close your eyes, Zack. [ Her voice is low and calm, tender in the way one might carry a promise. ] And think of... flowers.
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But taking a second to look into them is all it takes to confirm that, indeed, a... creature is in there, hideous and inhuman, hide like shadow and teeth like razors, ready to devour all that is left of him. No wonder no one could find the demon before. It was with the victim all along, in a place close to their mind to manipulate their dream and have their presence masked by the victim's own soul. How is she going to get it out?
Perhaps she can attempt to harvest its soul, but would that cause damage to Zack's? What if she reaps the wrong one? Or what if doing so provokes the demon, making things worse? There's neither time nor saving grace of the sulfur from last time.
Her hand lips from his cheek, moving down to grasp his hand instead. Her fingers curl around his palm, tightly, securing the grasp when his own might fail. This time, instead of telling him to keep them open, she tells him, quietly: ] ...Close your eyes, Zack. [ Her voice is low and calm, tender in the way one might carry a promise. ] And think of... flowers.