ONE OF TWO. - razor

Chapter Four

Preparations were made to the chaos and cacophony of thunder strikes and the illuminated rips of lightning in the sky. Razor had eventually fainted from fatigue, his motionless body – raggedly breathing and soaked in chilling rain water – being carried back to Mondstadt with urgency.

Consciousness came and went as it pleased, allowing him to have the briefest of moments during which he could hear the bustling around him and perhaps even see dim light from between his lashes, before having everything fade into a soundless pool of black nothingness – a nightmarish void that drowned his thinking mind.

He could see himself drifting in a space, with no one around him and just as much to see. When he went to speak, it felt as though his lips had been sewn together, drawn taut, and when he went to howl it felt as though he had swallowed shards of glass that had lodged themselves into the delicate flesh of his throat. He didn't want to cry, he couldn't bear to do so anymore; fear was festering within him however, and much like a pot of water close to overboiling, it threatened to spill and scald all it could reach.

Pupils blown wide in the darkness, eyes subconsciously rounded as he tried to see as much as possible, his breath hitched. From within the void, a pulsating purple glow spread. He would have run towards it if he could have moved, but it was unnecessary to do so anyway as it gradually enveloped all of him like spilled watercolour on a sheet of paper, devouring everything until it became so blinding he was forced to shut his eyes.

"Freedom shall come," A resounding voice murmured directly into his head, startling him, "Be strong."

A wave of electro crackled along his skin, a shout tore itself out of him, his eyes snapped open wide and again – finally – he could see.

"Razor!"

It was difficult to recalibrate his senses – his mind – to something other than the oblivion he'd been motionlessly trapped in for a period of time he couldn't determine, but hands gripped his heaving shoulders, effectively grounding him.

Lisa was hovering over him, eyes swollen from past crying and terror marring her smooth features. Guilt thrashed harshly in Razor's chest.

"Are you in pain? What – What happened?" She didn't give him more than a second to respond before whipping around to pinpoint anyone in the room who could help, "He needs painkillers, now!"

"Yes, Miss!" A voice instantly replied, the sound of shoes skidding across the floor quickly following.

Razor squeezed his eyes shut, mentally combatting the engulfing mess and noise that surrounded him, all of which felt to be too much. A hand pressed itself to his forehead, another carded his knotted hair away from his face.

"Your fever hasn't gone back up," She mumbled, more so to herself, "Where does it hurt?"

He grit his teeth.

"Not... hurt."

"Razor, be honest."

It was possibly the first time Teacher had ever spoken so brashly to him, yet – rather than taking offence to the tone – it fed the growling beast that was guilt rampaging behind the walls of his chest. He was making her worry so terribly.

"Bad dream," He explained, only then realising that he was still panting, fingers quivering, "Razor, is fine."

It seemed as though Lisa would have said something else on the matter but the opportunity was snatched from her when the door opened and the Acting Grandmaster's figure filled its frame.

"The horse and messenger are set," She announced with no preamble, "Whenever you are ready to leave, say the word."

Razor felt reality begin to crumble around him as he processed what had just been plainly said, his heart freezing over with a sense of betrayal. His weary eyes, glimmering and hurt, flickered between the two women, of whom Lisa appeared the most fretful.