They're trapped like they were in Hypionia, with enemies on all sides. Back then, an odd sort of peace had settled over Flynn, grim and resigned: he hadn't wanted to die, but it seemed inevitable, and so he'd known down in the core himself that at least he would die fighting, and give his knights and the civilians a chance to get away. At least Yuri might remember him.
If they here, they'll come back, but Flynn cannot imagine those robed figures, stringing people up for the blood and Goddess knows what else, will give them a gentle rebirth. Perhaps that's what they want: death, and rebirth, forever and ever, a constant source of the blood they're clearly collecting.
A grim thought, but a likely one.
This time there is no peace and no resignation. He can't let either of them die here, especially not Yuri, and they're stuck between two groups of people who want to kill them or at least cut them apart.
Flynn grits his teeth as they skid to a halt in another bloody hallway, this one strung up with more Sleepers and coated in an awful mix of blood slippery beneath their still-bare feet. He huddles close to Yuri, his heart and his mind racing as one. What do they need? They need a moment to think, they need better weapons. They need an idea of where they are and temporary safety from being hunted.
Mostly they need a moment to formulate a plan.
Flynn can do that. He tugs Yuri's head close and pulls him to the side, next to the pale body of a Sleeper long-gone. It's horrifying and it smells so much like blood and bile and it's leaking onto Flynn, but it shelters them for a bare moment. ]
Yuri. Listen to me. I think—I can slow them down, and buy us some time, but I'll need you to support me for a moment. Can you?
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They're trapped like they were in Hypionia, with enemies on all sides. Back then, an odd sort of peace had settled over Flynn, grim and resigned: he hadn't wanted to die, but it seemed inevitable, and so he'd known down in the core himself that at least he would die fighting, and give his knights and the civilians a chance to get away. At least Yuri might remember him.
If they here, they'll come back, but Flynn cannot imagine those robed figures, stringing people up for the blood and Goddess knows what else, will give them a gentle rebirth. Perhaps that's what they want: death, and rebirth, forever and ever, a constant source of the blood they're clearly collecting.
A grim thought, but a likely one.
This time there is no peace and no resignation. He can't let either of them die here, especially not Yuri, and they're stuck between two groups of people who want to kill them or at least cut them apart.
Flynn grits his teeth as they skid to a halt in another bloody hallway, this one strung up with more Sleepers and coated in an awful mix of blood slippery beneath their still-bare feet. He huddles close to Yuri, his heart and his mind racing as one. What do they need? They need a moment to think, they need better weapons. They need an idea of where they are and temporary safety from being hunted.
Mostly they need a moment to formulate a plan.
Flynn can do that. He tugs Yuri's head close and pulls him to the side, next to the pale body of a Sleeper long-gone. It's horrifying and it smells so much like blood and bile and it's leaking onto Flynn, but it shelters them for a bare moment. ]
Yuri. Listen to me. I think—I can slow them down, and buy us some time, but I'll need you to support me for a moment. Can you?