There was a surprising amount of strength in Kit's grip, even as Vincent's sharp nails raked across their surface, scraping and clawing in attempt to free his throat. But the trouble with tearing at his flesh was that, after so long, he failed to feel any pain. One sensation bled into the next, the burning so intense it faded altogether from his awareness, and as a result his hold only tightened...
...at least until he simply couldn't hold on any longer, his fingers giving an involuntary spasm before letting go.
Though whether that was due to the amount of blood he'd lost through them or the way Vincent's knees hammered up from below, it was difficult to say.
He curled as his body slumped towards the other boy, a low hiss of breath leaving him from in between clenched teeth. There was so much red mingled with the black spots in his vision. Was it over? Was this all the fight that he had left?
No. He hadn't yet said the words, still had his consciousness, and with it the determination to fight back whatever the odds. But first he needed to get away.
It was risky, but with his hands relinquishing that throat and the other boy no doubt greedily sucking in much needed oxygen, he might get away with it. Smearing his blood across Vincent's field of vision and, if he was lucky enough not to miss, striking him with his elbow before rolling off and to the side. It would be at least a minute before he could get to his feet again, his knees shaking as bad as they were, but if that act of desperation could buy him enough time perhaps he'd be okay...
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...at least until he simply couldn't hold on any longer, his fingers giving an involuntary spasm before letting go.
Though whether that was due to the amount of blood he'd lost through them or the way Vincent's knees hammered up from below, it was difficult to say.
He curled as his body slumped towards the other boy, a low hiss of breath leaving him from in between clenched teeth. There was so much red mingled with the black spots in his vision. Was it over? Was this all the fight that he had left?
No. He hadn't yet said the words, still had his consciousness, and with it the determination to fight back whatever the odds. But first he needed to get away.
It was risky, but with his hands relinquishing that throat and the other boy no doubt greedily sucking in much needed oxygen, he might get away with it. Smearing his blood across Vincent's field of vision and, if he was lucky enough not to miss, striking him with his elbow before rolling off and to the side. It would be at least a minute before he could get to his feet again, his knees shaking as bad as they were, but if that act of desperation could buy him enough time perhaps he'd be okay...