[ seeing inside the titan’s nape cavity was close to having double vision for falco, like wearing a separate headset with glasses that made him close to oblivious to those so near his true body. his eyes were connected to the beast’s, blinded, and so were so many fibers of muscle connected to him, pulsing, and spread with the blackness of infection in his veins. before he knew what they were planning, before he can connect the thoughts and feel relief—
the side of his chest bursts apart, making way for claws that so furiously struck right through him. the pain is beyond comprehension, falco can’t even register if and when he should shriek— it stays lodged in his throat and fills him with dolor that bursts, then simply dulls, all in a fraction of an instant. falco’s widened, frightened eyes stream purple-tinted tears, and in the same moment where he saw the monstrous bigby rip out a small little heart no larger than a tennis ball, still beating in his palm . . . it’s when falco begins to feel a comforting warmth that hugs him and tells him to let go.
they’ve killed him. he’s dying, quickly— but he’s not mad. what he’s truly upset for is harming them, and that sound. that sound of bigby’s painful shriek stays with him and lulls him to sleep. he thinks of his brother, then— they usually say that you see your whole life when you die, but falco thought of colt, and what he’d said before he was blown to charred pieces by falco’s explosion. I’m not letting go. don’t worry, your big brother will always be right here with you.
and hell if it didn’t feel true.
it’s all too fast for falco to give goodbyes, sorrys or an explanation. his body even tries its absolute best to repair him the same way it repaired his titan. but he needs a beating heart faster than his regeneration could offer, faster than the amount of blood he’s losing, regenerating and losing again. the thick smell of milky paleblood with a touch of sickness (much like spoiled milk) fills the cavity, slips down the throat— and when the steam begins to rise from the massive hole in the boy, his eyes go dim and his pupils wide, left open. the titan falls without a cry, but it jostles the men inside every which way.
they may find that it’s suddenly much easier to exit the titan through hacking away at its flesh. the mouth, only if it’s open, with all that dead weight. the nape may be the easiest way, though. the shortest. after all, the steam rising from the massive bird’s body is a signal that it’s all evaporating. it’s breaking apart, and in half an hour, the titan’s body would be reduced to bones. a little more than that, and it’d be as if it was never there to begin with.
all that’s left of it is the mangled, limp body of the boy smaller than all of them once trapped in it, scarred jaggedly where the bird’s jaws would be, and beginning to ooze the remains of the silence that’s no longer alive, and no longer active enough to drive their negativity high. ]
i forgot to say cw: child death!!!
the side of his chest bursts apart, making way for claws that so furiously struck right through him. the pain is beyond comprehension, falco can’t even register if and when he should shriek— it stays lodged in his throat and fills him with dolor that bursts, then simply dulls, all in a fraction of an instant. falco’s widened, frightened eyes stream purple-tinted tears, and in the same moment where he saw the monstrous bigby rip out a small little heart no larger than a tennis ball, still beating in his palm . . . it’s when falco begins to feel a comforting warmth that hugs him and tells him to let go.
they’ve killed him. he’s dying, quickly— but he’s not mad. what he’s truly upset for is harming them, and that sound. that sound of bigby’s painful shriek stays with him and lulls him to sleep. he thinks of his brother, then— they usually say that you see your whole life when you die, but falco thought of colt, and what he’d said before he was blown to charred pieces by falco’s explosion. I’m not letting go. don’t worry, your big brother will always be right here with you.
and hell if it didn’t feel true.
it’s all too fast for falco to give goodbyes, sorrys or an explanation. his body even tries its absolute best to repair him the same way it repaired his titan. but he needs a beating heart faster than his regeneration could offer, faster than the amount of blood he’s losing, regenerating and losing again. the thick smell of milky paleblood with a touch of sickness (much like spoiled milk) fills the cavity, slips down the throat— and when the steam begins to rise from the massive hole in the boy, his eyes go dim and his pupils wide, left open. the titan falls without a cry, but it jostles the men inside every which way.
they may find that it’s suddenly much easier to exit the titan through hacking away at its flesh. the mouth, only if it’s open, with all that dead weight. the nape may be the easiest way, though. the shortest. after all, the steam rising from the massive bird’s body is a signal that it’s all evaporating. it’s breaking apart, and in half an hour, the titan’s body would be reduced to bones. a little more than that, and it’d be as if it was never there to begin with.
all that’s left of it is the mangled, limp body of the boy smaller than all of them once trapped in it, scarred jaggedly where the bird’s jaws would be, and beginning to ooze the remains of the silence that’s no longer alive, and no longer active enough to drive their negativity high. ]