[ His hands might be steady but the erratic pound of his heart is anything but. He tries not to think about the possibility that this might be the last time he ever sees Dokja, does his best to ignore the way his heart constricts further in his chest as old familiar grief rises up from the depths. This isn't the end. It's just another bump on the road, one of many. But just in case...
His lips thin, teeth grit together in unhappiness. There's a second where they both do nothing but stare at each other in silence. And then he's reaching out and grabbing hold of Dokja's chin with his free hand so he can lean forward to press one last desperate kiss against his mouth. Actions over words, the full weight of his emotions - affection, concern, fear, guilt - filling up the conduit between them, briefly freed from the constraints he keeps them so tightly bound behind normally.
It's hard to see underneath the shadows of the roots that twist overhead, but there's something in the corner of his eyes that catch the light when he pulls away, a faint glimmer of saltwater that seems to match the hoarse rasp of his voice. ]
Don't make us wait too long, asshole.
[ Us. Him and Gray, his family. The people that love him (and their animals that tolerate him). The home that Dokja has haphazardly cobbled for himself over the past too many months, whether he likes it or not. It isn't much but it's theirs, despite how often the forces around them have tried to take those things away again and again.
He doesn't give Dokja a chance to respond, fingers tightening around the handle of his knife before abruptly pushing in with alarming force, the blade plunging through cloth and skin and fibrous tissue to pierce its target all the way through, lingering only a second before he drags it sideways, severing as much of the heart and its arteries as he possibly can. ]
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His lips thin, teeth grit together in unhappiness. There's a second where they both do nothing but stare at each other in silence. And then he's reaching out and grabbing hold of Dokja's chin with his free hand so he can lean forward to press one last desperate kiss against his mouth. Actions over words, the full weight of his emotions - affection, concern, fear, guilt - filling up the conduit between them, briefly freed from the constraints he keeps them so tightly bound behind normally.
It's hard to see underneath the shadows of the roots that twist overhead, but there's something in the corner of his eyes that catch the light when he pulls away, a faint glimmer of saltwater that seems to match the hoarse rasp of his voice. ]
Don't make us wait too long, asshole.
[ Us. Him and Gray, his family. The people that love him (and their animals that tolerate him). The home that Dokja has haphazardly cobbled for himself over the past too many months, whether he likes it or not. It isn't much but it's theirs, despite how often the forces around them have tried to take those things away again and again.
He doesn't give Dokja a chance to respond, fingers tightening around the handle of his knife before abruptly pushing in with alarming force, the blade plunging through cloth and skin and fibrous tissue to pierce its target all the way through, lingering only a second before he drags it sideways, severing as much of the heart and its arteries as he possibly can. ]