[ There is no power in the universe that can soothe the turmoil within him; his world is gone, yet here -- it has been cherrypicked over, information and names that mean nothing and old anecdotes that he lived through and a language considered 'dead', and it all just feels... horrible. Like being alive without really being alive, and it's not really worth being alive - is it? Someone is clutching at his hand, trying to calm him with kindness, and they go down shrieking moments later, their palm torn into a mess of pulp and scraps of them under his blood-slick nails now.
The Legionary guards are likely not going to stick to observing now, as the bleeding individual leverages them up and tries to urge them away, I have it, I promise, they try, before looking around. Cradling a hand pooling and dripping with their own blood, they see Ciel. Her quickening pace marks her as enough of an interloper in their eyes, and they plead softly: I just need to calm him, it's something about the area -- he's distressed.
Kind, kind hearted soul.
In a matter of moments, Set appears to lunge forward; the bleeding, cloaked acolyte sweeps their arms around his waist and meets him, clashes with his strength and holds fast to him. He reaches for their waist, grabbing handfuls of their clothing and begins to bodily haul them, up over his head, like he's about to snap their spine across his knee on a downswing. ] -- I said! Bring me, that fucking guy --!
[ yeah ciel this is going downhill fast im sorry ]
cw brief suicidal ideation + some gore
The Legionary guards are likely not going to stick to observing now, as the bleeding individual leverages them up and tries to urge them away, I have it, I promise, they try, before looking around. Cradling a hand pooling and dripping with their own blood, they see Ciel. Her quickening pace marks her as enough of an interloper in their eyes, and they plead softly: I just need to calm him, it's something about the area -- he's distressed.
Kind, kind hearted soul.
In a matter of moments, Set appears to lunge forward; the bleeding, cloaked acolyte sweeps their arms around his waist and meets him, clashes with his strength and holds fast to him. He reaches for their waist, grabbing handfuls of their clothing and begins to bodily haul them, up over his head, like he's about to snap their spine across his knee on a downswing. ] -- I said! Bring me, that fucking guy --!
[ yeah ciel this is going downhill fast im sorry ]