abby knows what happened. scorpia doesn't have to say it and she doesn't, not really. she softens her words, like she's just happened upon lev knocked out in the street and she wanted abby to know about it immediately, but that's not the truth of the situation.
he's dead. and abby doesn't know what to say to that so she just keeps running, like if she gets there faster it'll mean something, but her lungs are burning. her eyes are hot and she's breathing funny, all choked up.
she nearly flies right past where scorpia's crouched, only just catching the curve and colour of her through the mist as she comes to a sharp halt and– oh, fuck. she's kneeling down beside him. he's just there, on the ground, propped up against an old building with his head tipped to one side. he's covered in his own blood. it would be possible to mistake him for sleeping if his eyes weren't open, half-lidded, and lifeless.
she's had so many nightmares to the tune of this. maybe she's in another one.
abby would scream if she had the breath to do it. instead she sucks in a shivering inhale and whimpers when she tears her gaze away from him. her fists clench painfully tight at her sides as shock and grief stopper her throat. this is not supposed to happen to lev. not lev, not her person, never him. she's heaving for air.)
cw description of a dead body
abby knows what happened. scorpia doesn't have to say it and she doesn't, not really. she softens her words, like she's just happened upon lev knocked out in the street and she wanted abby to know about it immediately, but that's not the truth of the situation.
he's dead. and abby doesn't know what to say to that so she just keeps running, like if she gets there faster it'll mean something, but her lungs are burning. her eyes are hot and she's breathing funny, all choked up.
she nearly flies right past where scorpia's crouched, only just catching the curve and colour of her through the mist as she comes to a sharp halt and– oh, fuck. she's kneeling down beside him. he's just there, on the ground, propped up against an old building with his head tipped to one side. he's covered in his own blood. it would be possible to mistake him for sleeping if his eyes weren't open, half-lidded, and lifeless.
she's had so many nightmares to the tune of this. maybe she's in another one.
abby would scream if she had the breath to do it. instead she sucks in a shivering inhale and whimpers when she tears her gaze away from him. her fists clench painfully tight at her sides as shock and grief stopper her throat. this is not supposed to happen to lev. not lev, not her person, never him. she's heaving for air.)