[ so much happening in such a compressed moment in time, sucked down to the marrow, eviscerated by the toothy grip of the wormhole. he breathes in, he breathes out, slow and with the barest hint of a tremble. lin jingheng does not bow to fear, but he's been walking on his knees over grains of rice for too long. he hears the hiccup, and when he speaks his voice shakes like the softest twitching of a tree bough.
his he real? his thumb twitches, digging in. ]
I don't have an answer you'll like.
[ the silence in the lack of atmosphere, the constriction like a fist around his heart, by comparison lu bixing's voice is deafening. but it is the only thunderous sound he'll tolerate besides his heart pounding a pulse in his ears. he can't see or feel any dregs of zhanlu as he takes a mental inventory, running it parallel alongside the slowly mounting panic in his stomach.
there's a beat he holds himself still like a statue. he's desperate, grasping, clinging for some kind of anchor, but he feels like he's floating, disoriented still, and lu bixing is the only thing to moor him now. he take lu bixing's hand and pushes it to his chest, holds it there for a moment. it's stilted, jagged. but it's there. he should feel it, the human beat of him, pulse and all. ]
no subject
his he real? his thumb twitches, digging in. ]
I don't have an answer you'll like.
[ the silence in the lack of atmosphere, the constriction like a fist around his heart, by comparison lu bixing's voice is deafening. but it is the only thunderous sound he'll tolerate besides his heart pounding a pulse in his ears. he can't see or feel any dregs of zhanlu as he takes a mental inventory, running it parallel alongside the slowly mounting panic in his stomach.
there's a beat he holds himself still like a statue. he's desperate, grasping, clinging for some kind of anchor, but he feels like he's floating, disoriented still, and lu bixing is the only thing to moor him now. he take lu bixing's hand and pushes it to his chest, holds it there for a moment. it's stilted, jagged. but it's there. he should feel it, the human beat of him, pulse and all. ]
Alive... [
unspoken: we were so fucking close. ]