[ The voice is boyish and bright, but in this instance, wracked with terrible, terrible pain.
His voice is hoarse.
"Stop this! Leave my men alone! Who—who even are you?!"
Above his ragged breathing is another voice, but only barely audible. It's smooth, a trap bathed in honey, dangerous.
"Owen—"
Before he can speak again, there's an impact, the spark and sounds of magic. Boots scrape against stone, steel clattering to the ground, and there come cries of soldiers as they take the brunt. A sound escapes his throat, half-formed at the horror of his soldiers being ripped apart.
The sound of breathing, of an elevated heartbeat. The sound of a decision being made that will change the course of his life forever.
"Gladius...Procella!"
There comes the sound of magic again, but warmer, weaker, and it is quickly drowned by the terrible rumble of a spell much more powerful, much more dangerous than his. The honeyed voice laughs low, clearly amused; but whatever this other person says is quickly lost beneath a horrible, blood-curdling scream.
He screams in pain, in horror. Oh, the horror.
"My—my eye! What did you do to my eye?!" Pain wracks his voice, his breathing, his heartbeat. The sounds echo from the bats and that hurt almost feels real.
no subject
His voice is hoarse.
"Stop this! Leave my men alone! Who—who even are you?!"
Above his ragged breathing is another voice, but only barely audible. It's smooth, a trap bathed in honey, dangerous.
"Owen—"
Before he can speak again, there's an impact, the spark and sounds of magic. Boots scrape against stone, steel clattering to the ground, and there come cries of soldiers as they take the brunt. A sound escapes his throat, half-formed at the horror of his soldiers being ripped apart.
The sound of breathing, of an elevated heartbeat. The sound of a decision being made that will change the course of his life forever.
"Gladius...Procella!"
There comes the sound of magic again, but warmer, weaker, and it is quickly drowned by the terrible rumble of a spell much more powerful, much more dangerous than his. The honeyed voice laughs low, clearly amused; but whatever this other person says is quickly lost beneath a horrible, blood-curdling scream.
He screams in pain, in horror. Oh, the horror.
"My—my eye! What did you do to my eye?!" Pain wracks his voice, his breathing, his heartbeat. The sounds echo from the bats and that hurt almost feels real.
He screams.
"Give... Give me back my eye!" ]