Sunday barely notices his glove slipping off of his hand, only knows that their hands met but briefly.
It hadn't been enough.
Request unreasonable-- Denied. The halovian shakes his head. There is a hand on his throat, squeezing, pushing. It hurts, but he still speaks, begs this last request of his friend.
"Please!"
He doesn't think he's being too pessimistic this time. Sunday could only tread water within this empty frame for so long, he could feel himself slipping further, the horrible thing in his shape forcing him deeper into the mirror, no matter how he struggled. Sunday knows where this ends, and he knows how it pains Federico. His friend. His best friend. They only had so much time, were unable to stop what had begun, the mirror's glass seeping up to his chest. The halovian's expression pleading as his eyes sting with tears.
"Swear it to me. Protect yourself. Protect the others."
The glass envelops him, as the mirror accepts its offering. His gaze was glued to Federico's face, the hands reaching for the other man, dragging him back, forcing him down. Sunday is afraid for himself, yes, but more afraid for him, for the others. The sankta could very well be next. Fou-Lu. The thought of anyone else ending up like this leaves Sunday with a sick feeling, much worse than his own fate. He takes in one last ragged breath, closing his eyes as the glass creeps over his face, preparing himself for whatever might come next. If anything was truly next.
The mirror's surface settles, the ripples slowly fade, and Sunday is trapped within.
[press F to pay respects]
It hadn't been enough.
Request unreasonable-- Denied. The halovian shakes his head. There is a hand on his throat, squeezing, pushing. It hurts, but he still speaks, begs this last request of his friend.
"Please!"
He doesn't think he's being too pessimistic this time. Sunday could only tread water within this empty frame for so long, he could feel himself slipping further, the horrible thing in his shape forcing him deeper into the mirror, no matter how he struggled. Sunday knows where this ends, and he knows how it pains Federico. His friend. His best friend. They only had so much time, were unable to stop what had begun, the mirror's glass seeping up to his chest. The halovian's expression pleading as his eyes sting with tears.
"Swear it to me. Protect yourself. Protect the others."
The glass envelops him, as the mirror accepts its offering. His gaze was glued to Federico's face, the hands reaching for the other man, dragging him back, forcing him down. Sunday is afraid for himself, yes, but more afraid for him, for the others. The sankta could very well be next. Fou-Lu. The thought of anyone else ending up like this leaves Sunday with a sick feeling, much worse than his own fate. He takes in one last ragged breath, closing his eyes as the glass creeps over his face, preparing himself for whatever might come next. If anything was truly next.
The mirror's surface settles, the ripples slowly fade, and Sunday is trapped within.