[ Silco has no measure of inhuman strength, to help him fight off Liem's ever-increasing power, and though he tried to keep struggling, he simply can't. His eyes though β those remain wild, and wide β even as the chill of bloodloss creep into his fingers and toes, and he pulled his glove off, before he started to tug his knife out with what little strength he has left, before his fingers start to slip, and it goes limp in his hands.
It's cold, and Silco feels it, creeping at the edge of his vision. It's a little like drowning, really. Begging him to let go, begging him to just stop fighting, let the cold seep in, and give up. It would be easy, wouldn't it? To simply let himself fade away, likely dissipate right here and now.
But Silco had always been a fighter. He'd always fought with every bit of strength he had, and now was no different. He clenched his teeth, before his voice β faint, weak, and slurred from blood loss piped up. ]
I would suggest, if you wish to keep your life, that you end this. Now.
[ He'd never done it, and with slurred thoughts, and clumsy limbs, he doesn't really know how to, but his hand is bare on the dirt β an odd tattoo face up. ]
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It's cold, and Silco feels it, creeping at the edge of his vision. It's a little like drowning, really. Begging him to let go, begging him to just stop fighting, let the cold seep in, and give up. It would be easy, wouldn't it? To simply let himself fade away, likely dissipate right here and now.
But Silco had always been a fighter. He'd always fought with every bit of strength he had, and now was no different. He clenched his teeth, before his voice β faint, weak, and slurred from blood loss piped up. ]
I would suggest, if you wish to keep your life, that you end this. Now.
[ He'd never done it, and with slurred thoughts, and clumsy limbs, he doesn't really know how to, but his hand is bare on the dirt β an odd tattoo face up. ]