[ Well, it's a good thing Dokja's not a regular human. In his confusion over the misplacement of a sword he'd never had in the first place, he doesn't react in time to move out of the way. The mace strikes the side of his head and the bloom of pain is so incredibly agonizing that it's the only thing that exists. For a moment, his vision blacks out and he's barely aware of the fact that he goes falling with how searing the pain from his head is.
He can't even catch himself, landing heavily on the ground as the exposed skin of his hands and wrists and face scrape against the uneven surface. It hurts, fuck, it hurts. There's no wall protecting him and so he feels every single bit of it, especially the warm spread of thick blood sliding down the contours of his face in a way that he's grown too accustomed to.
When his vision returns to him a second later, it's still not clear. He sees double of everything, objects jumping around every time he moves his eyes too quickly, but that doesn't stop him from fixing his gaze on the dagger that had fallen from the waistband of his pants and now lies in reach. A little memento he'd taken from Eustace that he'd brought with him on this trip, not that he remembers right now.
It could be his sword for all he knows. For how fucked up his mind currently is.
Anything sharp will do.
Dokja immediately snatches it up and drags it toward him, the blood still pouring from his wound and the pain wholly unbearable. But he has to keep going. He has a promise to keep with That Person. This is why he'd come here. This is the end that he'd been working so hard to achieve. ]
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He can't even catch himself, landing heavily on the ground as the exposed skin of his hands and wrists and face scrape against the uneven surface. It hurts, fuck, it hurts. There's no wall protecting him and so he feels every single bit of it, especially the warm spread of thick blood sliding down the contours of his face in a way that he's grown too accustomed to.
When his vision returns to him a second later, it's still not clear. He sees double of everything, objects jumping around every time he moves his eyes too quickly, but that doesn't stop him from fixing his gaze on the dagger that had fallen from the waistband of his pants and now lies in reach. A little memento he'd taken from Eustace that he'd brought with him on this trip, not that he remembers right now.
It could be his sword for all he knows. For how fucked up his mind currently is.
Anything sharp will do.
Dokja immediately snatches it up and drags it toward him, the blood still pouring from his wound and the pain wholly unbearable. But he has to keep going. He has a promise to keep with That Person. This is why he'd come here. This is the end that he'd been working so hard to achieve. ]