Post by Chimaera on Jun 29, 2016 5:58:31 GMT
He calmly shut the door and walked away down the hallway toward the mess hall. Each step cemented the horror he had witnessed only a few short hours. Credited with the resolve to keep himself calm under pressure, the severity of the situation had finally caught him unaware. It made him stumble and reach out to catch himself. It was a nightmare that he couldn't shake from his mind. The injured and the dying reached out for him and he refused to help them. He had ran with the masses and rebuked the outstretch of hands. He still could feel the choke of the smoke in his throat and the echo of gunfire. A haunting sound he started to believe he could never deal with. But, it wasn't loud enough to drown out the screams. Men, women, and children. As he traced the wall with his hand, leverage for balance, he felt the sickness twist at his gut further. He had seen him. He had locked his gaze with Chimaera as he pulled the bowstring back. For that brief second, Aeneas saw his future. Then he saw nothing. The thought was enough to draw the contents of Chimaera's stomach up and the nearest vessel had been a flower pot. His knees gave way and his hands gripped at the edges until his knuckles turned chalk white.
The calm exterior Chimaera had built up since Aeneas' capture crumbled into dust at the foundation. Brick by brick. It all came down into a ruin. He shook as there was nothing left to push out of his body. All that was left had been the screams, the memory of seeing the airship explode over Izmir and the muscle memory of bodies pressed against bodies, scrambling to get out. Aiden and Arlen were still there. The gate having cut them off from being able to reach them. The thought of their broken and bloodied bodies among the countless others in the massacre brought up another dry heave before he collapsed heavy against the wall. His pale skin brighter against the dried blood he had yet to wash from his features or his clothing. A cold sweat on his brow, Chimaera closed his eyes and leaned his head back. Slowly, he started to let himself slip into a state of numbness. A state to which he could escape.
"Fuck you, Aeneas - you caused this," he whispered out hoarsely.
The calm exterior Chimaera had built up since Aeneas' capture crumbled into dust at the foundation. Brick by brick. It all came down into a ruin. He shook as there was nothing left to push out of his body. All that was left had been the screams, the memory of seeing the airship explode over Izmir and the muscle memory of bodies pressed against bodies, scrambling to get out. Aiden and Arlen were still there. The gate having cut them off from being able to reach them. The thought of their broken and bloodied bodies among the countless others in the massacre brought up another dry heave before he collapsed heavy against the wall. His pale skin brighter against the dried blood he had yet to wash from his features or his clothing. A cold sweat on his brow, Chimaera closed his eyes and leaned his head back. Slowly, he started to let himself slip into a state of numbness. A state to which he could escape.
"Fuck you, Aeneas - you caused this," he whispered out hoarsely.
