[ He doesn't know when his arms had fallen to the sides, doesn't much register that the weight pressing down on him is gone, can't feel anything else but the pounding in his skull and the tenderness in his face. The air feels thick with the metallic tang of iron. Inescapable. There's blood in his mouth, blood pooling underneath his head, and blood in his glassy, dark eyes.
It makes it hard to see, and his vision is already a blur with the trauma he'd taken to the side of his head, so when a figure reappears in his line of sight, Dokja can't make them out, can barely hear what it is that's being spoken to him through the ringing in his ears. But he tries, squinting and blinking and trying to raise a trembling hand to wipe at his eyes, but there's no strength left in him and his arm drops right back down.
Who...?
Where is he...?
Shit, why does he hurt so much? The splitting pain in his head seems to intensify out of nowhere and Dokja feels nauseous as he tries to roll over on to his side, a muffled cry of pain held back behind clenched teeth as each move he makes feels like it threatens to dislodge and spill everything through the lacerations he's sustained. Fuck, fuck. He's not accustomed to weathering physical pain like this, formerly pampered by an ability that would bend over backwards to protect him from the smallest of discomforts.
What he wouldn't give to have that back now.
His fingers desperately scrabble against the ground as his shallow breaths grow harsh and his inhales sound more like dying gasps. He feels himself come back in pieces, slowly and desperately in a bid to raise his head above the surface of whatever darkness he's plummeted into, half of his mind trying to gently coax the other back into place.
But that half remains uncertain and frightened, cowers and tucks into a corner. Should it return, it'll have to face what it is he's said and done. ]
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It makes it hard to see, and his vision is already a blur with the trauma he'd taken to the side of his head, so when a figure reappears in his line of sight, Dokja can't make them out, can barely hear what it is that's being spoken to him through the ringing in his ears. But he tries, squinting and blinking and trying to raise a trembling hand to wipe at his eyes, but there's no strength left in him and his arm drops right back down.
Who...?
Where is he...?
Shit, why does he hurt so much? The splitting pain in his head seems to intensify out of nowhere and Dokja feels nauseous as he tries to roll over on to his side, a muffled cry of pain held back behind clenched teeth as each move he makes feels like it threatens to dislodge and spill everything through the lacerations he's sustained. Fuck, fuck. He's not accustomed to weathering physical pain like this, formerly pampered by an ability that would bend over backwards to protect him from the smallest of discomforts.
What he wouldn't give to have that back now.
His fingers desperately scrabble against the ground as his shallow breaths grow harsh and his inhales sound more like dying gasps. He feels himself come back in pieces, slowly and desperately in a bid to raise his head above the surface of whatever darkness he's plummeted into, half of his mind trying to gently coax the other back into place.
But that half remains uncertain and frightened, cowers and tucks into a corner. Should it return, it'll have to face what it is he's said and done. ]