[The Herald commands, as if words will change the fact of things. Jayce is sputtering his last breaths in blood soaked gurgles and whimpers. He falls heavily to both knees overtop of Jayce, the bed of truck denting down where his weight lands. Hands cross over one another and press palms to Jayce's chest. Even, rhythmic pushes follow. One, two, three- One, two, three- the beat of a heart. What beat that should be there.
There is nothing there. Jayce's body fails, protesting his death is of no use.
Not supposed to be. Hands tear away his shirt to bare Jayce's chest, ravaged by sickly flesh and the creep of anomaly infection. Viktor tries again. One, two, three- One, two, crack- Jayce's breastbone gives sickeningly under the continued attempts. The failure strikes at the core of the Herald, but he cannot reckon with it. There must be another step. A more drastic measure. The claw on his back whirls and pushes forward, digs into the broken center of Jayce's chest. It cuts into him with precise motions, scalpel sharp, a cross pattern to peel quarters of skin open.
Revealing the man was already rotted inside, impossibly alive before his death.
He has no purpose without Jayce. Accepting his death is not possible. The claw plucks delicately at broken bones, casting them aside. Muscle and sinew is peeled away, until he can reach Jayce's heart. With care, the three prongs grasp the organ directly, forcing the pulse to return. The action does no good. Even if it could drag Jayce's body into a state of "life", forcing his blood to run only means Jayce's body will be bled out dry. Red pools at Viktor's knees long before it's clear this is pointless.
The heart eventually tears in his grasp, unable to withstand the further abuse and strain. It's fully broken.
Reality hits Viktor. Jayce is dead beneath him. There is no question and no denying the fact.
He feels nothing about this.
No sorrow, no joy. He merely recognizes a failure. It doesn't feel like his own. It doesn't feel like anything at all. The numbness is so pure and distilled, there is no ache to it, no memory nor illusion of pain. Ego death follows. The light inside the Herald simply goes out. A machine unplugged, robbed of its energy source. He slumps, upright on his knees, an inert tower of metal too well balanced to simply collapse in any direction.]
cw: character death and dissection gore
[The Herald commands, as if words will change the fact of things. Jayce is sputtering his last breaths in blood soaked gurgles and whimpers. He falls heavily to both knees overtop of Jayce, the bed of truck denting down where his weight lands. Hands cross over one another and press palms to Jayce's chest. Even, rhythmic pushes follow. One, two, three- One, two, three- the beat of a heart. What beat that should be there.
There is nothing there. Jayce's body fails, protesting his death is of no use.
Not supposed to be. Hands tear away his shirt to bare Jayce's chest, ravaged by sickly flesh and the creep of anomaly infection. Viktor tries again. One, two, three- One, two, crack- Jayce's breastbone gives sickeningly under the continued attempts. The failure strikes at the core of the Herald, but he cannot reckon with it. There must be another step. A more drastic measure. The claw on his back whirls and pushes forward, digs into the broken center of Jayce's chest. It cuts into him with precise motions, scalpel sharp, a cross pattern to peel quarters of skin open.
Revealing the man was already rotted inside, impossibly alive before his death.
He has no purpose without Jayce. Accepting his death is not possible. The claw plucks delicately at broken bones, casting them aside. Muscle and sinew is peeled away, until he can reach Jayce's heart. With care, the three prongs grasp the organ directly, forcing the pulse to return. The action does no good. Even if it could drag Jayce's body into a state of "life", forcing his blood to run only means Jayce's body will be bled out dry. Red pools at Viktor's knees long before it's clear this is pointless.
The heart eventually tears in his grasp, unable to withstand the further abuse and strain. It's fully broken.
Reality hits Viktor. Jayce is dead beneath him. There is no question and no denying the fact.
He feels nothing about this.
No sorrow, no joy. He merely recognizes a failure. It doesn't feel like his own. It doesn't feel like anything at all. The numbness is so pure and distilled, there is no ache to it, no memory nor illusion of pain. Ego death follows. The light inside the Herald simply goes out. A machine unplugged, robbed of its energy source. He slumps, upright on his knees, an inert tower of metal too well balanced to simply collapse in any direction.]