"I- I don't know!" Where he'd sounded composed before - mostly - that isn't the case now. The more he seems to pull against the vines, the tighter they pull as if they're intent on fusing to him like plate armor fusing under fire attack. But worse; armor has a chance of being removed.
He can't say that's the case here now. Whatever veneer he usually has set in place to avoid sharing too many open reactions is being worn away no matter how he tries to cling to it, that one sole thought of somehow being stable for Wilhelm still taking precedence in his mind. Even over the fear crawling up the back of his throat, assuming that it's not also a vine somehow, or that when he chances a glance over Wilhelm's shoulder to a man who was once on the other side of the teen? That man is now slumped to the ground at an unnatural angle. Something works its way out of the dead man's body, something which looks horrifyingly like a mouth reaches out towards them and the altar like it can't decide where to go.
Words, that tool Claude's always relied on to get him through something, over a hurdle, to the end result needed, all seem to fail him now. With a shudder as something squeezes around his spine painfully he's pulled backwards by a vine which was growing behind them, and now thanks to being twisted back and to the side he has a clearer picture of the people kneeling behind them. One he wishes he didn't have when the growths start to fuse them all together.
"Don't," he starts before something else starts to press on his ribcage like it wants to strangle the air from him. "Don't look back."
no subject
He can't say that's the case here now. Whatever veneer he usually has set in place to avoid sharing too many open reactions is being worn away no matter how he tries to cling to it, that one sole thought of somehow being stable for Wilhelm still taking precedence in his mind. Even over the fear crawling up the back of his throat, assuming that it's not also a vine somehow, or that when he chances a glance over Wilhelm's shoulder to a man who was once on the other side of the teen? That man is now slumped to the ground at an unnatural angle. Something works its way out of the dead man's body, something which looks horrifyingly like a mouth reaches out towards them and the altar like it can't decide where to go.
Words, that tool Claude's always relied on to get him through something, over a hurdle, to the end result needed, all seem to fail him now. With a shudder as something squeezes around his spine painfully he's pulled backwards by a vine which was growing behind them, and now thanks to being twisted back and to the side he has a clearer picture of the people kneeling behind them. One he wishes he didn't have when the growths start to fuse them all together.
"Don't," he starts before something else starts to press on his ribcage like it wants to strangle the air from him. "Don't look back."