( Exhaustion can affect anyone. All it takes is one push too far, one day too many without enough sleep or food.
All it can take is a seemingly endless battle, wave after wave of Null adapting and forcing itself towards the Door, and the lingering, draining madness that emanates off the bouncing sphere in an attempt to defend itself and them. One second where the shadows lingering at the edges of Kate’s vision and the constant taste of blood (ohgodthetasteofblood metallic and warm and invading her throat until she has to force air into her lungs with a grimace) distracts her for just long enough that she doesn’t see the second Null step in too close, doesn’t notice the flash of the laser until it burns through flesh and muscle. )
— Shit.
( It’s such a dull reaction to the pain, so breathless and quiet among the echoing clash of Null versus the people of Hadriel, where spells curve and curl out in their limited space, lighting up the tunnel until — for just a moment — Kate feels twenty again, watching Faith light the Underground up while it collapses around them and Marc’s by her side, groaning with the effort of pushing the earth away long enough that all of them can escape the shuddering, rolling masses of the monsters beneath the city.
But this time the only thing collapsing is her as her knees buckle and each part of her body — her hands letting go of the makeshift weapon they’ve clutched for the last few hours, her head turning towards the place where the Null cut through her — works in slow motion, as though the pain (an oddly distant thing, given the fact a laser sliced through her, obscured by so many layers of fog and memories) has physical weight it attaches to her limbs.
Is she breathing? There’s a burning in her chest, fighting against an erratically stuttering heart, which suggests she is, but she’s not sure how it’s passing her constricting throat. There’s the muted sound of her body hitting the floor, a gentle thud which should sound louder, given the way it rattles in her shins, and the thought:
closed; cw: death
All it can take is a seemingly endless battle, wave after wave of Null adapting and forcing itself towards the Door, and the lingering, draining madness that emanates off the bouncing sphere in an attempt to defend itself and them. One second where the shadows lingering at the edges of Kate’s vision and the constant taste of blood (ohgodthetasteofblood metallic and warm and invading her throat until she has to force air into her lungs with a grimace) distracts her for just long enough that she doesn’t see the second Null step in too close, doesn’t notice the flash of the laser until it burns through flesh and muscle. )
— Shit.
( It’s such a dull reaction to the pain, so breathless and quiet among the echoing clash of Null versus the people of Hadriel, where spells curve and curl out in their limited space, lighting up the tunnel until — for just a moment — Kate feels twenty again, watching Faith light the Underground up while it collapses around them and Marc’s by her side, groaning with the effort of pushing the earth away long enough that all of them can escape the shuddering, rolling masses of the monsters beneath the city.
But this time the only thing collapsing is her as her knees buckle and each part of her body — her hands letting go of the makeshift weapon they’ve clutched for the last few hours, her head turning towards the place where the Null cut through her — works in slow motion, as though the pain (an oddly distant thing, given the fact a laser sliced through her, obscured by so many layers of fog and memories) has physical weight it attaches to her limbs.
Is she breathing? There’s a burning in her chest, fighting against an erratically stuttering heart, which suggests she is, but she’s not sure how it’s passing her constricting throat. There’s the muted sound of her body hitting the floor, a gentle thud which should sound louder, given the way it rattles in her shins, and the thought:
Sucks to die now.
Yes. Yes it does. )