[The sound startles Ronan awake instantly, and he comes up and out of it empty handed, jerking his shoulder as if he could force himself into action, but all it does is take his momentum and push him to the ground.
Laying on his side with his face in the dirt, Ronan sees Adam with a gun and his blood runs cold. How could he have been so stupid to leave him here with that thing? Of course it would overpower him, of course it would get the gun- Cabeswater could try to protect him, but Adam has never been much for physically fighting back. His gaze shifts to the other Adam on the ground and he looks at his sightless eyes, the way he bleeds out against the dirt.
He's dreamt about this enough time to know it perfectly- the shape of Adam's ribs, the meaty mess of his chest where the bullets went in, the slack in his jaw and lifelessness in his eyes. Ronan knows this image intimately well and if he could just get up- get up- he could try to make sense of the rest of it.
Adam shot- or the other one shot- Adam or the other one. It doesn't make sense, Ronan thinks that if it's the other one than he's next, if it's Adam then how could he think that he's the other one?
He squeezes his eyes shut tight, the first movement he's able to make, and Ronan curls in on himself, smelling blood and feeling immediately sick to his stomach.]
The- tell me the word-
[His tongue feels three sizes too big but he manages to slur it out, manages to move his knee first and then his other arm so that he can curl in on himself a little, his gaze flitting frantically up toward the Adam still standing, his heart still in his chest as he waits for a response that means the difference between life and death.]
no subject
Laying on his side with his face in the dirt, Ronan sees Adam with a gun and his blood runs cold. How could he have been so stupid to leave him here with that thing? Of course it would overpower him, of course it would get the gun- Cabeswater could try to protect him, but Adam has never been much for physically fighting back. His gaze shifts to the other Adam on the ground and he looks at his sightless eyes, the way he bleeds out against the dirt.
He's dreamt about this enough time to know it perfectly- the shape of Adam's ribs, the meaty mess of his chest where the bullets went in, the slack in his jaw and lifelessness in his eyes. Ronan knows this image intimately well and if he could just get up- get up- he could try to make sense of the rest of it.
Adam shot- or the other one shot- Adam or the other one. It doesn't make sense, Ronan thinks that if it's the other one than he's next, if it's Adam then how could he think that he's the other one?
He squeezes his eyes shut tight, the first movement he's able to make, and Ronan curls in on himself, smelling blood and feeling immediately sick to his stomach.]
The- tell me the word-
[His tongue feels three sizes too big but he manages to slur it out, manages to move his knee first and then his other arm so that he can curl in on himself a little, his gaze flitting frantically up toward the Adam still standing, his heart still in his chest as he waits for a response that means the difference between life and death.]