[ sweat coats his skin, like he's been running miles nonstop, even if he's been strapped here the entire time, arms gripped down to the table with no avail of wrestling them free. there are no signs that anything's been done to him, not here — no slashes, no cuts, no burns, no injuries. but the pain still lingers, like he could still feel the flames engulfing him, like he could still feel the instant the bullet penetrates his skull.
dimi won't give up that easily, which makes it even stranger to find the boy that appears, like he doesn't quite fit into what's been set up here. it could easily be a false setup, just something else to mess with his mind, make him think he's going free before latching him back in. ]
You're not here. [ he grumbles with a graveled tone, head lifted up to watch while making no efforts of his own to wriggle free. ] And if you are, you're just as good as dead. They control the construct. [ that's not necessarily true, but he's not pulling that card out yet. ] Just leave me.
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dimi won't give up that easily, which makes it even stranger to find the boy that appears, like he doesn't quite fit into what's been set up here. it could easily be a false setup, just something else to mess with his mind, make him think he's going free before latching him back in. ]
You're not here. [ he grumbles with a graveled tone, head lifted up to watch while making no efforts of his own to wriggle free. ] And if you are, you're just as good as dead. They control the construct. [ that's not necessarily true, but he's not pulling that card out yet. ] Just leave me.