[For his part, Namazuo does intend to follow. He doesn't like to lie, not unless it's absolutely necessary, and he's no paragon of selflessness and sacrifice. More than anything, he's a victim of his own optimism--he hopes beyond hope that they'll both make it out of this.
That hope lasts until he makes it out into the street.
As he runs, the two creatures are naturally drawn to Leon, but Namazuo had expected that. As soon as they turn to follow, he's there, slashing at whatever he can reach to draw their attention back to him. Just long enough for Leon to make it to safety, he thinks. Just long enough that they don't see where he's gone. He won't be able to take them down in this state, he knows, but he's faster than they are, and he can lose them in the side streets before he doubles back to join Leon. So he grits his teeth against the pain of steel on scrap metal and fights with all his strength.
When he deems Leon is safely out of whatever passes for their minds, he stumbles out into the street--the wider space will make it easier to dart around them. But over all the screeching and crashing and blood rushing through his ears, he hadn't noticed the second monster gearing up for a different sort of attack. It's there, and it's ready for him, and maybe another time, he would've been prepared-- but not now.
It catches him as soon as he steps out, and the hit from before seems feather-soft compared to this. Something like a claw slams down on top of him, and he hits the ground hard, crying out. He can't slip out or twist away, and it's pure desperation that keeps his vessel from flying out of his hand. He looks up, faced with a cat that's bored of playing with its prey, and for the first time, the true reality of the situation sets in.
He's not going to make it out of this.
The monster he'd been fighting lumbers out to join its companion, and the one blessing in all of this is that it seems to have forgotten Leon. The head twists, metal grinding, and slowly, slowly, begins to come down towards him. And as it does, Namazuo sees what he has to do.
Hunh. Who would've thought it would end like this?
Taking a deep breath, Namazuo goes limp, everything about him signaling defeat. His grip on his vessel is loose, and he watches the face draw closer and closer, ready, no doubt, to examine its prize. He waits until it's right in front of him, until the wires tickle his face and sharp metal cuts into his skin-- he waits, and waits, and when the claw pinning him down begins to pull away, that's when he finally strikes.
Quick as a viper, he jams his sword into the creature's neck, wedging it as deeply as it will go. Then he pulls, dragging it through metal and broken concrete and whatever else makes a monster. His blade isn't meant for this kind of thing--tears well up in his eyes as his true body begins to bend, his skin tearing beneath his clothes. The monster makes a sound, something like a shriek, and pulls away from him. Biting down on his lip, Namazuo forces himself to sit up, and with the last of his strength, he yanks his sword through the remnants of its neck.
He feels his blade snap almost before it does. The monster screams, or maybe that's his own voice--he can't tell anymore. But through a haze of pain, he watches it collapse, and then--
He really should have known better than to have faith.
When has believing in other people ever gone well for him? When has it ever led to something good? No. Never. It's always...always been something like this, a painful situation, and losing something he didn't want to lose, and he doesn't know why he believed, but he wanted to--
And it hurts.
He ran, because he believed, and because Namazuo seemed like the sort who believed too, and that was the fatal flaw. As soon as he was out of range of the first monster, he slows, and then he sees the second double back--he turns then in a panic, because he knows what that means. If both of them are focused on Namazuo, there's no way this can go well. Even a sword can't handle too many enemies.
Especially enemies made of metal and junk, instead of flesh. Swords were never made to fight things like this.
And it's not enough.
The scene he comes across is a disaster, and he'd known it would be. He hates that he'd known it would be. He hates that he was right.
Immediately, he's lunging forward, but it's with cold, calculated fury. He can process what happened later. Right now, he knows he has a task he has to accomplish--he has to grab those pieces of Namazuo's vessel, the broken, snapped sword, and he has to do it without dying. Dying now would just be a mockery of what he's done.
He makes use of every arte he can as he ducks and avoids the other monster still alive, and he knows he has to hurry--the previous monster is slowly piecing itself back together, and it seems cruel, really, that this would be the ending someone like Namazuo would face for no good reason at all.
But he just clenches his teeth, and he utilizes every skill, every bit of strength, and when he escapes the mass of monster limbs, he's more bruised, but he has Namazuo's vessel in his hands, both pieces held tightly. He'll... carry them, until they fade away if they do here, or until he can return them, or until whatever happens to them happens.
But he couldn't just leave them there, and as he starts to limp his way away again, bitter and pained, he knows--
He shouldn't have trusted a single word he'd said.]
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no subject
That hope lasts until he makes it out into the street.
As he runs, the two creatures are naturally drawn to Leon, but Namazuo had expected that. As soon as they turn to follow, he's there, slashing at whatever he can reach to draw their attention back to him. Just long enough for Leon to make it to safety, he thinks. Just long enough that they don't see where he's gone. He won't be able to take them down in this state, he knows, but he's faster than they are, and he can lose them in the side streets before he doubles back to join Leon. So he grits his teeth against the pain of steel on scrap metal and fights with all his strength.
When he deems Leon is safely out of whatever passes for their minds, he stumbles out into the street--the wider space will make it easier to dart around them. But over all the screeching and crashing and blood rushing through his ears, he hadn't noticed the second monster gearing up for a different sort of attack. It's there, and it's ready for him, and maybe another time, he would've been prepared-- but not now.
It catches him as soon as he steps out, and the hit from before seems feather-soft compared to this. Something like a claw slams down on top of him, and he hits the ground hard, crying out. He can't slip out or twist away, and it's pure desperation that keeps his vessel from flying out of his hand. He looks up, faced with a cat that's bored of playing with its prey, and for the first time, the true reality of the situation sets in.
He's not going to make it out of this.
The monster he'd been fighting lumbers out to join its companion, and the one blessing in all of this is that it seems to have forgotten Leon. The head twists, metal grinding, and slowly, slowly, begins to come down towards him. And as it does, Namazuo sees what he has to do.
Hunh. Who would've thought it would end like this?
Taking a deep breath, Namazuo goes limp, everything about him signaling defeat. His grip on his vessel is loose, and he watches the face draw closer and closer, ready, no doubt, to examine its prize. He waits until it's right in front of him, until the wires tickle his face and sharp metal cuts into his skin-- he waits, and waits, and when the claw pinning him down begins to pull away, that's when he finally strikes.
Quick as a viper, he jams his sword into the creature's neck, wedging it as deeply as it will go. Then he pulls, dragging it through metal and broken concrete and whatever else makes a monster. His blade isn't meant for this kind of thing--tears well up in his eyes as his true body begins to bend, his skin tearing beneath his clothes. The monster makes a sound, something like a shriek, and pulls away from him. Biting down on his lip, Namazuo forces himself to sit up, and with the last of his strength, he yanks his sword through the remnants of its neck.
He feels his blade snap almost before it does. The monster screams, or maybe that's his own voice--he can't tell anymore. But through a haze of pain, he watches it collapse, and then--
That's enough. This is enough.]
no subject
He really should have known better than to have faith.
When has believing in other people ever gone well for him? When has it ever led to something good? No. Never. It's always...always been something like this, a painful situation, and losing something he didn't want to lose, and he doesn't know why he believed, but he wanted to--
And it hurts.
He ran, because he believed, and because Namazuo seemed like the sort who believed too, and that was the fatal flaw. As soon as he was out of range of the first monster, he slows, and then he sees the second double back--he turns then in a panic, because he knows what that means. If both of them are focused on Namazuo, there's no way this can go well. Even a sword can't handle too many enemies.
Especially enemies made of metal and junk, instead of flesh. Swords were never made to fight things like this.
And it's not enough.
The scene he comes across is a disaster, and he'd known it would be. He hates that he'd known it would be. He hates that he was right.
Immediately, he's lunging forward, but it's with cold, calculated fury. He can process what happened later. Right now, he knows he has a task he has to accomplish--he has to grab those pieces of Namazuo's vessel, the broken, snapped sword, and he has to do it without dying. Dying now would just be a mockery of what he's done.
He makes use of every arte he can as he ducks and avoids the other monster still alive, and he knows he has to hurry--the previous monster is slowly piecing itself back together, and it seems cruel, really, that this would be the ending someone like Namazuo would face for no good reason at all.
But he just clenches his teeth, and he utilizes every skill, every bit of strength, and when he escapes the mass of monster limbs, he's more bruised, but he has Namazuo's vessel in his hands, both pieces held tightly. He'll... carry them, until they fade away if they do here, or until he can return them, or until whatever happens to them happens.
But he couldn't just leave them there, and as he starts to limp his way away again, bitter and pained, he knows--
He shouldn't have trusted a single word he'd said.]