[She only barely hears his footsteps behind her, but she doesn't stop. Doesn't slow. His voice echoes in her head over and over, as does her own as she answers...
No, you are not okay.
No, you are not okay.
It echoes with every step, every crunch of crystal, and it reminds her of what she saw in that room. Those diagrams, the needles, the tools, and then the state of his arm, as understanding had washed over her. And then when he reaches out to touch her, his fingers just barely grazing against her claws, what should have been a comforting gesture from him is anything but. His touch is colder than usual, and for a split second, it feels smooth like crystal. And then rough like stone.
How many times now has she almost lost him? How many more times must they go through this song and dance with the universe before they can finally know peace? How many times have their lives been put at risk, and for what? Was it all worth it in the end? Was losing him tonight to the crystals and the wrath of the ocean worth everything else? How long? How long until they can just live their lives the way they want to live them? How long before they can rest?
The cannon fire is now so close that Benedikta feels the blast at her side, as the walls start to crumble and crack when more come. There are shouts from somewhere, and they approach, screams and cries for help. It doesn't matter who they are or what they are doing here.
With screams that rival that of the fires, she catches the bodies in her claws as they round the corners, tossing them aside. The guards that she spots trying to make for the exits do not get far at all. Instead, she pins them to the walls, capturing them beneath the talons, watching as the light leaves their eyes before she lets them fall and moves on to the next.
And the next.
Die.
And the next.
Die.
There is another sentry that comes for them, and she destroys that with ease, too, so much of her body moving on rage that she makes it look almost effortless the way that she tears it apart from the inside out with her wind and her claws combined, the pressure upon the steel too much before it shatters completely, the metal pieces that break from it used against the guards that had come rushing down the tunnels with it as they are impaled.
She leaves a mess of bodies in her wake without prejudice, each scream growing louder and louder as she plunges her sword through throats and rips torsos apart until finally. She doesn't even know what she is yelling anymore... Or if she is coherent at all, but her voice breaks, her throat burns, and yet she still cries out for him.
...For them...
Because have they not already been put through enough!?
When will the universe finally be satisfied?
When will they be left alone!?
All things that she screams as they make their way blindly through the tunnels...
...
Until finally, she has to stop.
She doesn't know when she had started huffing for air, completely drained and out of breath, nor does she know how long she has been crying, tears staining her bloodied cheeks. The claws disappear, her wings droop, and she grips her shoulders as more of her feathers start to fall, some of them having been sliced away again by more guards.
And all she can do, as she tries to breathe, is turn to look back at Cid.]
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No, you are not okay.
No, you are not okay.
It echoes with every step, every crunch of crystal, and it reminds her of what she saw in that room. Those diagrams, the needles, the tools, and then the state of his arm, as understanding had washed over her. And then when he reaches out to touch her, his fingers just barely grazing against her claws, what should have been a comforting gesture from him is anything but. His touch is colder than usual, and for a split second, it feels smooth like crystal. And then rough like stone.
How many times now has she almost lost him? How many more times must they go through this song and dance with the universe before they can finally know peace? How many times have their lives been put at risk, and for what? Was it all worth it in the end? Was losing him tonight to the crystals and the wrath of the ocean worth everything else? How long? How long until they can just live their lives the way they want to live them? How long before they can rest?
The cannon fire is now so close that Benedikta feels the blast at her side, as the walls start to crumble and crack when more come. There are shouts from somewhere, and they approach, screams and cries for help. It doesn't matter who they are or what they are doing here.
With screams that rival that of the fires, she catches the bodies in her claws as they round the corners, tossing them aside. The guards that she spots trying to make for the exits do not get far at all. Instead, she pins them to the walls, capturing them beneath the talons, watching as the light leaves their eyes before she lets them fall and moves on to the next.
And the next.
Die.
And the next.
Die.
There is another sentry that comes for them, and she destroys that with ease, too, so much of her body moving on rage that she makes it look almost effortless the way that she tears it apart from the inside out with her wind and her claws combined, the pressure upon the steel too much before it shatters completely, the metal pieces that break from it used against the guards that had come rushing down the tunnels with it as they are impaled.
She leaves a mess of bodies in her wake without prejudice, each scream growing louder and louder as she plunges her sword through throats and rips torsos apart until finally. She doesn't even know what she is yelling anymore... Or if she is coherent at all, but her voice breaks, her throat burns, and yet she still cries out for him.
...For them...
Because have they not already been put through enough!?
When will the universe finally be satisfied?
When will they be left alone!?
All things that she screams as they make their way blindly through the tunnels...
...
Until finally, she has to stop.
She doesn't know when she had started huffing for air, completely drained and out of breath, nor does she know how long she has been crying, tears staining her bloodied cheeks. The claws disappear, her wings droop, and she grips her shoulders as more of her feathers start to fall, some of them having been sliced away again by more guards.
And all she can do, as she tries to breathe, is turn to look back at Cid.]