[ boothill sighs through his nose, a small, exasperated gust of air, but there's relief in it too. how much worse would dying have been if karlach was wounded herself? if she had died again after already suffering so much last week?
he tries to say something, but nothing comes out. right. he can't speak. fudge.
he looks flatly at nothing before turning his attention back to her. he draws her down to him and kisses her mouth, her chin, the edge of her lips, her cheeks, her nose, between her eyebrows—soft, but hopefully it communicates that he's glad she's okay, and he knows she suffered too. she was standing close enough to be spattered with his blood. just how long was she waiting in the cemetery for him?
yes, the image of lucas that way is burned into his memory. being thrown was. a weird experience. just like shattering his arm and being crushed by a roller coaster. but he's alive now, though not without consequence. it's all right. ]
no subject
he tries to say something, but nothing comes out. right. he can't speak. fudge.
he looks flatly at nothing before turning his attention back to her. he draws her down to him and kisses her mouth, her chin, the edge of her lips, her cheeks, her nose, between her eyebrows—soft, but hopefully it communicates that he's glad she's okay, and he knows she suffered too. she was standing close enough to be spattered with his blood. just how long was she waiting in the cemetery for him?
yes, the image of lucas that way is burned into his memory. being thrown was. a weird experience. just like shattering his arm and being crushed by a roller coaster. but he's alive now, though not without consequence. it's all right. ]