[ there's a surreal sort of shocking brightness in the moment. there's gold all over his fingers, lingering with its shiny, otherworldly glow, and it's seeping into the lines of his gloves, stark against the ghostly pallor of sion's skin as they go vaulting into the night. he runs, but it's almost too much to process at once. there's blood dripping from dead bodies propped up against the walls in the aftermath of the mob. the dirt road sinks beneath their boots as they keep on running, as sion continues bleeding, and the world continues to sway dizzily on its axis.
gold blood, gold eyes, and shiro's suddenly standing in a line that feels a little like death's row with a dozen faces, with some of them alien, and they're all staring at him, horrified. he's holding a blade half his size, and he's cutting down a boy that reminds him of the prisoner he still thinks about, still fights for, because he's been fed half-baked promises he doesn't really believe in anymore, not after everything.
i want blood!
take care of your father.
and then he's standing with sion in an empty alleyway, with the screaming and violence blending into an anxious din in the backdrop. he's trying desperately to catch up to everything sion's saying, everything that doesn't make sense, and his chest rises and falls with the breathlessness of the run, his brow furrowing. ]
And leave you here?
[ he knows his orders. he knows that going against them could mean lost lives, lost time that they do not have to spare. usually, sion wouldn't care enough to pull rank.
but he doesn't know what to expect from him, now. ]
I don't know what all of this - [ and he's holding out his gold-covered hands. ] is. But you've gotten shot.
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gold blood, gold eyes, and shiro's suddenly standing in a line that feels a little like death's row with a dozen faces, with some of them alien, and they're all staring at him, horrified. he's holding a blade half his size, and he's cutting down a boy that reminds him of the prisoner he still thinks about, still fights for, because he's been fed half-baked promises he doesn't really believe in anymore, not after everything.
i want blood!
take care of your father.
and then he's standing with sion in an empty alleyway, with the screaming and violence blending into an anxious din in the backdrop. he's trying desperately to catch up to everything sion's saying, everything that doesn't make sense, and his chest rises and falls with the breathlessness of the run, his brow furrowing. ]
And leave you here?
[ he knows his orders. he knows that going against them could mean lost lives, lost time that they do not have to spare. usually, sion wouldn't care enough to pull rank.
but he doesn't know what to expect from him, now. ]
I don't know what all of this - [ and he's holding out his gold-covered hands. ] is. But you've gotten shot.
I'm not going to leave you here to bleed out.