( cw: drugs, robo-murder, burns. i had to put the cw warning here bc we needlessly fill up the comment box ROFL )
[ the situation is a precarious one. it isn’t lost on shiro completely. the apology may be said and done, but the unease stays as he watches keith dispose of the sentries with chilling efficiency. unmoved from his spot, shiro does manage a meager mustering of a smile as keith turns back to him. good job, comes to mind, but he doesn’t find the effort to move his mouth to say it. just as well, because in no time at all, something else is being ripped from his vocal cords instead. ]
No!
[ simple, yet anguished, the protest fails to make any sort of impact as keith ragdolls into a heap that is then apprehended. keith, he thinks. help him, whispers in next. reflex isn’t quick, however. he eases into his movements, as if relearning how to do something as straightforward as moving his arms to test the bindings keith didn’t finish undoing. motivation is building quickly and with each shift, the next comes easier, quicker, stronger. keith’s being hauled onto an apparatus now, groaning, whining, screaming –
there it is. there’s the spark of purple that engulfs his hand and spreads upwards, drawing lines into the metal that forms his arm. a force of will has the metal burning hotter until it simply burns through the strap. the others suffer similar fates as shiro maneuvers his hand, slicing through them.
he stumbles into his first step, but it's sheer determination that carries him through the drugs that continue to weigh his limbs and off-center his perceptions. he may be less coordinated than his usual athleticism affords him, but he’s a freight train of power as he throws his mass at the sentries now turning to him. one decapitation and one punch through… neither feel any pain, of course, and shiro is sick enough in his haze that he’s almost disappointed by that fact. how dare they touch keith. how dare they put him in this… this… ]
Fuck.
[ his foot drags against the stage in his next step, the line of which diagonals. he manages to come to keith’s side, though; he’s just not entirely there balance wise as he sways and then clamps his hands down on the rig near keith’s hip, steadying himself. he inadvertently melts part of it with his hand.
right. be careful. ]
I’ve got you.
[ it’s an echo of what keith said to him a few minutes ago. it’d almost be funny how they’re trading off in the protective role, if the situation weren’t so sickening. as it is, shiro remains somber as he slices through the metal pins holding those wrist bands, freeing keith’s hands. next is the belt around keith’s midsection and then he’s onto the fastenings around keith’s shins.
… he tries to be careful. really he does. but he’s sloppy both in his haste and in the compromise of his system. he brushes too close to keith’s left leg, the heat of his hand leaving a small, but noticeable burn. ]
i would screenshot good bean but everything else about the screenshot would be incriminating
[ the situation is a precarious one. it isn’t lost on shiro completely. the apology may be said and done, but the unease stays as he watches keith dispose of the sentries with chilling efficiency. unmoved from his spot, shiro does manage a meager mustering of a smile as keith turns back to him. good job, comes to mind, but he doesn’t find the effort to move his mouth to say it. just as well, because in no time at all, something else is being ripped from his vocal cords instead. ]
No!
[ simple, yet anguished, the protest fails to make any sort of impact as keith ragdolls into a heap that is then apprehended. keith, he thinks. help him, whispers in next. reflex isn’t quick, however. he eases into his movements, as if relearning how to do something as straightforward as moving his arms to test the bindings keith didn’t finish undoing. motivation is building quickly and with each shift, the next comes easier, quicker, stronger. keith’s being hauled onto an apparatus now, groaning, whining, screaming –
there it is. there’s the spark of purple that engulfs his hand and spreads upwards, drawing lines into the metal that forms his arm. a force of will has the metal burning hotter until it simply burns through the strap. the others suffer similar fates as shiro maneuvers his hand, slicing through them.
he stumbles into his first step, but it's sheer determination that carries him through the drugs that continue to weigh his limbs and off-center his perceptions. he may be less coordinated than his usual athleticism affords him, but he’s a freight train of power as he throws his mass at the sentries now turning to him. one decapitation and one punch through… neither feel any pain, of course, and shiro is sick enough in his haze that he’s almost disappointed by that fact. how dare they touch keith. how dare they put him in this… this… ]
Fuck.
[ his foot drags against the stage in his next step, the line of which diagonals. he manages to come to keith’s side, though; he’s just not entirely there balance wise as he sways and then clamps his hands down on the rig near keith’s hip, steadying himself. he inadvertently melts part of it with his hand.
right. be careful. ]
I’ve got you.
[ it’s an echo of what keith said to him a few minutes ago. it’d almost be funny how they’re trading off in the protective role, if the situation weren’t so sickening. as it is, shiro remains somber as he slices through the metal pins holding those wrist bands, freeing keith’s hands. next is the belt around keith’s midsection and then he’s onto the fastenings around keith’s shins.
… he tries to be careful. really he does. but he’s sloppy both in his haste and in the compromise of his system. he brushes too close to keith’s left leg, the heat of his hand leaving a small, but noticeable burn. ]