When Tyr comes to, he's on the ground as well, curled up in the hallway between his room and the kitchen. He doesn't even know why he passed out... His eyes are still bleary when he picks himself up off the floor and looks over at Rita's own form curled up close to his.
And the expanding pool of blood around her body, coming from-
Tyr skitters away from her body in horror, eyes wide and suddenly very awake. He doesn't know if he screams or not; the blood rushing through his body is deafening, all he can see is her blood, and he's afraid to let his eyes follow the path of the blood splatter.
"Rita...?" he attempts shakily. Maybe this is a dream. Right, like one from the Soul Eater. It feels real, but...
It feels like he's sitting there and shaking on his hands and knees for a long time as a few minutes pass and all the happens is her clothes and hair turning a ruddy black as her blood soaks in. Her mouth is open in a scream - did she see something he couldn't? - but he never heard a thing.
He didn't do anything to save her. He let her--
Her blood is still warm when he inches closer to her again to cautiously gather her up off the floor. For a moment, he just wants to hold her until he wakes up, but part of him knows that isn't going to happen. And part of him knows he can't just pretend that will happen and he can't just sit in her blood and grieve her.
It's so hard to push his emotions away and carry her to bed to lay there. And then cradle her head and try to rest them together against his watery eyes. He tells himself it's for her dignity that he covers her up, but that's not really the case at all.
With the bedroom door locked, he folds himself into a ball in front of it, head buried in his arms. He won't let anything happen to her again. He promises.
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And the expanding pool of blood around her body, coming from-
Tyr skitters away from her body in horror, eyes wide and suddenly very awake. He doesn't know if he screams or not; the blood rushing through his body is deafening, all he can see is her blood, and he's afraid to let his eyes follow the path of the blood splatter.
"Rita...?" he attempts shakily. Maybe this is a dream. Right, like one from the Soul Eater. It feels real, but...
It feels like he's sitting there and shaking on his hands and knees for a long time as a few minutes pass and all the happens is her clothes and hair turning a ruddy black as her blood soaks in. Her mouth is open in a scream - did she see something he couldn't? - but he never heard a thing.
He didn't do anything to save her. He let her--
Her blood is still warm when he inches closer to her again to cautiously gather her up off the floor. For a moment, he just wants to hold her until he wakes up, but part of him knows that isn't going to happen. And part of him knows he can't just pretend that will happen and he can't just sit in her blood and grieve her.
It's so hard to push his emotions away and carry her to bed to lay there. And then cradle her head and try to rest them together against his watery eyes. He tells himself it's for her dignity that he covers her up, but that's not really the case at all.
With the bedroom door locked, he folds himself into a ball in front of it, head buried in his arms. He won't let anything happen to her again. He promises.