[ okay— okay. falco doesn’t have the time nor the focus to act relieved— he keeps going. that’s, at most, thirty seconds. thirty seconds of calm before he either goes back to what he was doing, attacks falco instead, or gets through it (that, if it was strong enough to have made it thirty seconds; this place was a nerd zone). falco swallows tight and keeps his hand out, placating. ]
I’m going to get us out— Hang in there. Look at me— [ he’s there, he could see it in his eyes, and keeps attempting to get through to him. there’s a glass bottle with . . . something, in it. he can’t wait long to figure it out, takes it in his hands and throws it to the ground, opposite of luca. there were organs in there, and broken with a shatter showed that it was coldblood; it solidified and scattered its pieces, and falco took the chance to take one of the glass fractures, holds it tight in his hand—
and strips the piece out of his hold with the other. the gash it makes in his palm causes a slight wince, but not one falco wasn’t used to. milky white blood drips from the clenched fist to the ground, putting a hand print on the empty of spot upon the alter.
if that was good enough a sacrifice, he hoped the way would open. and god, when it does, an actual way out churning ajar just like the bolts and gears in sleeper farm, falco ushers luca by the shoulder, with his clean hand. ]
cw for self harm (also in icon)
I’m going to get us out— Hang in there. Look at me— [ he’s there, he could see it in his eyes, and keeps attempting to get through to him. there’s a glass bottle with . . . something, in it. he can’t wait long to figure it out, takes it in his hands and throws it to the ground, opposite of luca. there were organs in there, and broken with a shatter showed that it was coldblood; it solidified and scattered its pieces, and falco took the chance to take one of the glass fractures, holds it tight in his hand—
and strips the piece out of his hold with the other. the gash it makes in his palm causes a slight wince, but not one falco wasn’t used to. milky white blood drips from the clenched fist to the ground, putting a hand print on the empty of spot upon the alter.
if that was good enough a sacrifice, he hoped the way would open. and god, when it does, an actual way out churning ajar just like the bolts and gears in sleeper farm, falco ushers luca by the shoulder, with his clean hand. ]
Just listen to my voice and stay calm,