[ON HOLD] Shadows of the Blessed | #Countryhumans AUOriginals

02: Things Can Change [Pt. 2]

Previously...

Then, her feet left the rooftop. And she fell.

——————

Time seemed to slow.

The wind rushed up, as if to swathe her in the frigid rain one last time.

And the guard dove, hand desperately outstretched. His fingers closed around her wrist just in time; the earth's relentless clutch continued to pull them down, and still down.

Before he knew it, he found himself clinging dangerously against the roof's edge. The figure dangled midair; the only thing keeping her there was the guard's hand.

He grimaced, realizing he'd foolishly used his left arm— the one she stabbed. The dagger was still lodged there, firmly in his flesh. It continued to bleed; the red trickled down from his hand to hers, tainting the bandages that encircled her hands.

If it weren't for them, his grip would have slipped.

The figure appeared dazed.

Like she couldn't believe she was still alive.

Digging his boots into a groove on the surface of the roof, the guard tried to pull her up. But the rain seemed to weigh them down. Each heave felt as if his arm was being cleaved apart.

Despite this, he kept trying— but to no avail. Was he not trying hard enough?

Or just weak?

He could feel his arm going numb, losing feeling. His grip was slipping.

If he continued trying, either they would fall to their deaths, or—

—she would.

Hopelessly, the guard's eyes searched the area for something, anything. Anything that could save them.

He could keep trying. But how many more times could he before he finally failed?

The guard slapped himself mentally.

Dumb as shit.

He could let go. It wasn't worth it, sticking out his neck for a complete stranger. A thief.

No, he thought.  I won't do it.

I'm nothing like him.

It was then that, through the pouring rain, the guard could just barely make out a massive pile of hay forgotten near the stables down below. From where he was, a meter or so to the right.

An idea sprung into his mind.

Bit by bit, he summoned the rest of his strength and moved his arm without a word, gritting his teeth.

The figure seemed to understand his actions. She grabbed hold of a protruding brick to steady herself as she used her feet to edge, little by little, to her left.

Hours seemed to pass. When they finally got there, the guard felt completely drained. He was exhausted, knowing it must have been blood loss.

The figure suddenly spoke in a soft, almost inaudible voice. "...why do you do this?"

The guard did not reply. He only shifted his head to glance at her, then averted his eyes.

She didn't look much older than the youngest recruits.

He knew. Somehow, he knew her.

It was just— he couldn't quite remember.

"When I let you go," he said instead, not even sure of what he was doing, without returning his gaze, "run."