06-26-2010, 09:40 PM
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(519.)
His unruly heart throbbed in panic as the Haku's cruel teeth flashed—it threatened to halt his advance, but he pushed through it. King told himself not to listen to his heart-rate, to the quick wisps of breath that he was taking. It wasn't much as if he had a choice, though. He forced himself to remain calm, his measured steps speeding as he felt Haku's presence behind him urging him closer. The wolf lay so close now, close enough that he could touch him. King had seen pain before, he had seen bleeding wounds and broken bones. He had smelled death standing in the doorway, beckoning with cold resignation. But he hadn't seen anything that resonated in his veins, chords, and bones like this. It scared him out of his mind, but there was a darkness within that was interested—piqued. That darkness was not as frightened, and that meant that it was not weak. Finding this out, King desperately sought it out, trying to hold on to it as long as he could. He wasn't sure how long it would last, though.
King didn't know how to respond to his father. There was something—a sense of self-preservation?—that told him that anyone who was capable of doing this could do the same to him, just easier because he was smaller. The Dahlian boy doubted that the Soul's own blood in his veins mattered much. So what could he say that would keep him breathing? In the end, he didn't say anything—fear made him strike out along a neutral, silent path. He was distracted, though, and was taken by surprise as Haku nudged him even closer. He stumbled, nearly losing his footing in the blood-slick ground. He took an extra step, now practically up against the dying wolf. He could feel the faint shudder at the contact to his broken body and the dying warmth, he could see the blood seeping still from the wounds. In his surprise he had sucked in a breath of the air, and now the scent of blood fully fogged up his young head. He felt the impulse to back away, but he knew that was a dangerous idea. He stood his ground, feeling the warm-cold of the new and old blood beneath his paws.
It was obvious to him that this was some kind of set-up—Haku had done this and retrieved him here for some kind of purpose. Obviously, as he was right here instead of observing from back there, he was meant to do something. So, without looking back to his father, he asked in a voice that he prayed was steady, "What do you want me to do?" To his credit, minus the slightest waver, the words stood pretty strong—pretty stoic. He hoped he could keep it up, because he was no longer blind to the dangers nipping at his heels, breathing down his neck. At this very moment, his mind was on self-preservation—however this might affect him down the road was a little hazier. King could not focus on foresight with this before him.