[ the instant the pressure lessens, evan's surging up, like every inch of him was electrified into action. like he's raising from the dead, furious and looking for revenge - and except for being dead, that's not too far off from right.
he doesn't move as smoothly as david, but it's fast, and he's already barreling toward him. hands out, grabbing for him, to charge him straight back into the workshop and toward the nearest workbench. if he can get him pinned against that, pinned against anything - it's all he needs.
grabbing the mask or the machete doesn't even occur to him. they don't matter. all that matters is getting his hands on david. ]
[ that's about what he expected to happen, and yet, somehow it's also worse at the same time. david was banking on being more agile than trapper, but suddenly he's not sure that matters so much. ]
[ sure as fuck doesn't wanna get grabbed though, so he has to try. does his best to time it right to duck out of the way and slip around trapper at the last moment, hoping his momentum will make it too difficult to adjust. ]
[ new plan: jump up on trapper's back if he gets the chance, but david expects even if he manages to get behind him right now, getting up on him is going to be one hell of a task. ]
[ david's dodge gets him, because evan was expecting him to take the brunt of the blow like he usually does. and his momentum is too strong to stop and turn, although he does swing out an arm to try and grab him to drag him at least a little ways further.
but rather than running, david tries to get on his back as soon as he's behind him. he can feel the attempt, the hands grabbing at his waders, his shoulders, the hooks and shrapnel, and he tries to snatch at him, to stop him from getting up there. if he can't - and it's difficult to reach behind him far enough for that - he takes the next best path, which is to wait until david's got a firm enough grip and then back up hard and fast into the wall to crush him between the mine and evan himself.
it won't be hard enough to break anything, but it should wind him, or at least get him to let go. if it doesn't, he'll try it again, still trying to grab at anything close enough to his shoulders to get hold of. ]
[ well okay, he kind of thought he'd get more of a chance to do some damage up here. foolish, really. hubris gets the best of everyone. ]
[ his grip slacks the first time his back hits the wall, winds him enough that one of the legs he was trying to hook around trapper for stability falls uselessly, but david is always one to make a situation as painful as possible for everyone involved. if he's going to hurt, he's sure as fuck going to make sure trapper does too. ]
[ he grabs on to one of those pieces of shrapnel sticking out of evan's shoulder, grip tight enough that when he backs up into that wall again and david falters, all his weight is, for a moment, hanging off that hunk of metal. less a threat and more a promise, because david reckons he's got maybe one more hit in him before it's too difficult to stay up here, but he's planning to take this with him when he falls. ]
[ it's like trying to hold down a wild bull, or some people have said over the years. even when he was less of a literal monster nobody could manage to keep him still. and they tried. they tried a lot.
he can feel david starting to slip off, but as always, he doesn't expect the grab to the shrapnel. he really doesn't expect david to hang his whole body weight off it. the agony as it starts to rip through him, tearing skin and muscle alike as it comes loose too slowly to deal with, gets a noise out of him that's both the closest and further from human he's ever sounded in a fight.
it stops evan in his tracks, that's for sure. he scrabbles frantically over his shoulder to grab david and wrench him up, get the leverage loose before the metal snaps and leaves him a bleeding, nearly-crippled wreck. whether he can manage it or not, though, is up in the air. david's losing his grip on evan's back, but not on the metal, and that makes him even harder to find. ]
[ there's a question he's going to have to ask himself later, because the noise that trapper makes rings with such deep satisfaction it almost makes him sick, and later, when he remembers it, he probably won't be able to say if that's something that's always been there or if that's what the fog's done to him. ]
[ not right now though. right now all david knows is he needs this man hurt and bleeding. it's single-minded, the way he hangs his weight off that piece of metal, bends his legs like he's doing fucking pull-ups just to make extra sure he doesn't hit the ground before that fucking thing either breaks or tears loose. david's not picky. ]
[ it's like being gutted by the entity. almost. almost like it. close enough that he can barely see as david drags harder and harder, letting gravity do the work instead of actually fighting, and evan can't get hold of him.
the metal snaps, but deep in the muscle, and tears its way free. as david drops, so does evan, onto his hands and knees as the pain ricochets through him and stuns him for longer than he can afford to be stunned. the shoulder the metal was embedded in feels numb at the same time as it pulses with red-hot agony.
almost as bad.
he knows david's suddenly got an upper hand, but he can't do anything about it. evan tries to recover, but it's so hard to try and push himself up, even on his good arm. ]
[ the metal snaps, tears free of trapper's body, and david stumbles when his feet hit the ground. narrowly avoids stepping in a trap as he rights himself — pure luck, david forgot they were even there. ]
[ what's more important right now is the jagged piece of metal in his hand. not as good as the one he'd last ripped out of trapper, but it's a weapon. close enough to one, at least, for when david descends on trapper, halfway fucking feral, to stab him in the neck with it. once, twice, whatever. as many fucking times as it takes. ]
[ evan gets hold of himself just in time for david to descend. the metal jabs into his neck, and it's only because of the state of his skin that that first stab isn't a killing blow.
but it does draw blood, and it hurts like hell, and evan brings up a hand to try and stop him even as his whole body rebels against the idea of anything other than trying to recover. david lands another hit, and another. hard and strong enough to split the skin and dig into his neck, avoiding immediate death only by sheer luck. only the one arm is willing to respond right now, so he does the only thing he can and tries to tackle david.
there's not much force behind it. he's barely up off the ground. but he puts as much weight as he can into it, trying to get his good hand around david's, trying to wrench it and get him to hurt enough to drop the shrapnel even as it buries itself further into his throat. another few blows and he's going to be on his way out - unacceptable - but he doesn't die fast, or easy, and never has. ]
[ david practically howls when evan grabs his hand, somewhere between pain at the strength of his grip and fury at the way the shrapnel slips from his hand. even as he's tackled, david's a real fucking live wire about it. kicking, swinging his other fist for trapper's neck, his shoulder. ]
[ there isn't really any thought in his head except the haze of bloodlust, anger at being so close to taking this bastard out and having that taken away (what feels like) so fucking easily. david feels like he's losing his fucking mind, how many times is he going to come close to beating trapper only to have it ripped out of his grasp. how many times is he gonna have his hands soaked in this guy's blood and be the one who dies anyway? ]
[ equal parts exhausted and enraged, it's pretty standard for david at this point. but like evan he doesn't intend to go down fast or easy, not if he can help it. ]
[ david's relentless, and this time it's making evan's life an actual hell. the constant attempts to make the neck wounds worse are succeeding; there's blood, too much blood, and it's getting everywhere. it's even sapping the rage as the loss sets in, making his already pain-addled brain even less focused.
but the instinct to win is as strong for him as it is for david - more they have in common that neither one probably wants to acknowledge. he makes an effort to hurl his entire body weight on david, crush him down and choke him out with an arm across the throat while he tries and fails to stem the blood from his neck. no chance of doing it with the agonizing tear in his shoulder, which isn't helping.
his other arm almost has feeling back, but it still won't obey him well enough. too sluggish. too much pain when he moves the shoulder at all. so he just lets that one go for now and tries to bear the brunt of all of david's attacks as he tries with everything he has to crush david's throat, which probably isn't going to be as successful as he'd like. ]
[ evan is a heavy guy, it means that once he's bearing down on him, david has no hope of throwing him off. at least not without changing his focus from trying to kill this fucking man, which isn't likely to happen. at the very least he needs evan to pass out to have a hope of leaving here alive. to say nothing of the need to win this that feels like fire in his veins, blood roaring in his ears that sounds like the cheers and yells of a drunken crowd or an angry wind whipping down an alley. ]
[ david wheezes under the weight of the arm across his neck, tries to get one of his hands under it to push back, take at least a little of the pressure off. he coughs, eyes blurred and watery, sputtering out a laboured curse between gritted teeth. ]
[ he reaches out with his other hand, grabs at trapper's throat. at first like he plans to simply try and choke him in return, but he quickly changes tack to try for something more effective, dragging his fingers over blood-slick skin to find those stab wounds and, well. jam his fingers into them. ]
[ one of the things evan's always been good at is not showing when he's losing. it's won him a lot of fights in his life. if he just keeps throwing himself at the problem, keeps swinging, keeps killing, nobody will suspect how close he is to having no choice but to give up.
but david's good at that, too, or so he's found. and so he has no idea if he's a dead man here, or if david is.
he bears down on david only for david's fingers to find the bloody wounds at his throat and digging in and wrenching and the noise he makes isn't angry because it isn't human. or maybe it's exclusively human - the sound of pain in a throat that's being mutilated by force. his other arm still isn't working right, so he can't stop him, can't yank him away.
his only other option is to push away, freeing david but also freeing himself. he hits the far wall and sits against it, grabbing at his bleeding throat, breathing in an unhealthy bubbling way. and watching david with a look somewhere between sheer murderous rage and seriously pissed-off disbelief. ]
[ david might not be bleeding nearly as much, but he's taken a hell of a beating. when evan pushes off him, he just lays there for a minute without any imminent threat to spur him on, sucking in heaving breaths. something in his chest rattles and david winces, grosns as he resists the urge to just curl in on himself and pass out. ]
[ he staggers to his feet, fighting posture but it's sluggish, hunched in that way that suggests there's some real damage hiding under the surface. ]
[ and then his eyes find evan sitting against the wall and something in him kind of - deflates. without the immediacy of the fight, he's suddenly aware of just how badly he wanted to kill him in the moment. of blood all over him that isn't his and david doesn't know how to process that. not that he ever thought he was a good man, but at least he never-- ]
C'mon-- You're not dyin' are you?
[ kind of a dick thing to say if not for the edge of disbelief in his tone. part of him honestly wants trapper to just get up like this is just some temporary problem and that's. weird. it's weird. ]
[ if he was clearer-headed, he'd see the way david almost gives up, or at least loses the fury, just by seeing him down. it might make him think, make him wonder just how much hatred is really there ... but he's blinded by fury and blood and a darkness seeping in from the edges.
is he dying? it wouldn't be the first time, here, and not even the first time at the hands of a survivor, but it would be the first time at david's hands. it's infuriating every time. he's not supposed to be able to die to anyone else. he's better than them. all of them. and yet, here is, on the floor, with david above him and his throat almost cut.
he snarls, a wheezing noise at this point, and curls the fingers of his recovering hand into a fist. ]
No one - dies - here.
[ strictly speaking. he can feel himself regenerating, just a little, but it won't keep up with what david's been doing. evan braces himself for another attack, ready to let himself bleed out if it means taking david with him. it's not a win, but at least it's not a win for david, either. ]
[ amazing how, in the cocktail of weird and uncomfortable emotions david is feeling, he still manages to sound impatient and annoyed. ]
[ but still, david gets down on a knee — out of immediate arms' length, but close enough he can look properly at evan. a frown on his face, but still... not exactly concern or anything like it, but an expression that suggests he's not exactly happy with this situation. ]
You want me-- [ he looks around, eyes fall on the cleaver where it fell near the door, and frowns thoughtfully. ] I could finish it.
[ it's an offer, one he feels uncertain about and fully expects to be turned down, but still. he's not just gonna pick it up and start hacking the guy to pieces, even if it would be extremely justified in his opinion. ]
[ he wasn't expecting david to stay back. he was expecting the same thing he would give: a beatdown, an execution, a deathblow or five to make sure david didn't get back up. he was fully expecting david to at least try to cave his skull in, but here they are, practically at eye level.
he might respect that kind of death. might. and yet when david outright offers to kill him, it spurs the fury and he manages to find the strength in him to lunge again, but it's got half the strength of before even if he is aiming to lock his blood-covered hand over david's throat and bear him down to the ground.
it'd take more effort than he might be willing to expend to break david's neck here and now, but he glowers, teeth grit, eyes blazing, throat bleeding, as he tries to get david down.
it's about as close as a fuck you as he's going to get in this state. ]
[ that's more or less the response he expected, yeah. ]
[ it's not exactly hard to catch david, not in the state he's in, but that doesn't mean he's got no fight left in him. his back hits the ground, knocks something else loose that he can't afford to waste time thinking about. it propels him right back where he was before, kill or be killed. this time he reaches for the hand at his throat, grabs for evan's thumb to pull it back, break it so he can't keep a grip. ]
[ tries to push him off at the same time, bucks and shoves to try and get evan away from him, so he can roll out from under him and get away. if he wants to bleed out like a stuck pig then so fucking be it. ]
[ a broken thumb is something he can deal with. it hurts like hell, but it isn't new. he shoves down, forces his hand against david's own hand and his throat, and makes a another terrible noise as his thumb strains and just about breaks as david tries to wrench himself free.
given the circumstances, evan's not in any position to actually hold him down. not with his strength rapidly bleeding out through the gouged holes in his throat. david forces him off and evan hits the floor again heavily, and this time it's not as easy to get up. he manages to push himself up halfway at least, watching david, not helpless by any means but in no place to defend himself against a few well-placed kicks.
but he also can't stop david from running. at this point, he'll never catch up. the only risk left is the traps. ]
[ david staggers to his feet a second time, it's harder this time, and he halfway considers just taking trapper's head and bashing it against the floor until it caves. stomping it instead maybe. but he remembers trapper's cleaver, where he'd dropped it, how he'd thought moments ago it would be a mercy to take it and kill him quick. ]
[ it's slow moving, david dragging himself toward the doorway of the workshop to pick it up. it feels both wrong and yet very right in the moment as he curls his fingers around the cleaver's handle, grip tight. secure. he turns, walks back with careful, deliberate steps to offset the way his body lists to the side, the slight limp. expression set in a hard line, not much anger but more... resolution. should've just done this to begin with instead of being a pussy about it. offering because he didn't want to make the choice himself, what a crock of shit. his father-- ]
You're right. Shoulda just done this without makin' a thing of it.
[ maybe he's stalling a little, but it's not real. not in any way that matters. and like fuck should he feel off about killing some bastard who's killer him how many hundreds of times. he sucks in a breath, and unless evan stops him somehow, david intends to make it quick but by no means painless. swinging down at him-- at his neck, his head. however many blows it takes for him to die finally. ]
[ he watches david pick up his cleaver. his weapon. and then david turns to him, his expression locked into something dark. not gloating, not furious, just ... dead certain, because one of them's about to be dead. and evan knows who it's going to be.
it should make him angrier, but the blood loss means the rage is draining. what's left in its place isn't much. just emptiness. just the realization that he got bested, again, by a fucking survivor, in his own place. and now with his own weapon.
he doesn't say anything. just glares, all the fury left in him clear on his face. there's no way to really stop david, but -
evan tries to block the blade with his good hand, which just means it gets split before the cleaver makes its way to his neck. grabbing the blade doesn't do much good because it's a powerful weapon, designed to kill, and that means even his burned and broken skin isn't immune to it. eventually, there's enough of a slash to bleed him out, and he slowly sinks the rest of the way to the floor to die. or at least come close.
and the anger's still there, clinging to his features, the whole time he goes. ]
[ david doesn't stop hacking until he's sure there's no life left in the man below him. until the spray of blood and crunch of bone and flesh stops even registering to his conscious mind, all just background to this. and when he's sure it's done, david just... stands there for a minute. through the mess, the rage on evan's face is still clear, and something about that makes david huff out a grim, tired breath of a laugh. how many times has he died with a similar look on his own face? especially out here, outside the trials where the fear of death isn't quite so pervasive. ]
[ weird, that. dying doesn't feel so real outside the trials, but apparently killing does. or maybe it's just because he's never done it before. david wonders if it's like this for everyone, the way he feels nauseous and electric at the same time. his hands are shaking, something he only notices when he drops the cleaver in the dirt next to evan's body, and that too makes him want to laugh. ]
[ he sits — falls, almost —against the wall, next to the body. heavy breaths that rattle and wheeze in his chest as he pulls his knees up, rests his elbows on them and puts his head in his hands while he tries to get his shit together before he drags his way back to camp. or maybe he'll just sit here and dissociate for a year. ]
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he doesn't move as smoothly as david, but it's fast, and he's already barreling toward him. hands out, grabbing for him, to charge him straight back into the workshop and toward the nearest workbench. if he can get him pinned against that, pinned against anything - it's all he needs.
grabbing the mask or the machete doesn't even occur to him. they don't matter. all that matters is getting his hands on david. ]
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[ sure as fuck doesn't wanna get grabbed though, so he has to try. does his best to time it right to duck out of the way and slip around trapper at the last moment, hoping his momentum will make it too difficult to adjust. ]
[ new plan: jump up on trapper's back if he gets the chance, but david expects even if he manages to get behind him right now, getting up on him is going to be one hell of a task. ]
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but rather than running, david tries to get on his back as soon as he's behind him. he can feel the attempt, the hands grabbing at his waders, his shoulders, the hooks and shrapnel, and he tries to snatch at him, to stop him from getting up there. if he can't - and it's difficult to reach behind him far enough for that - he takes the next best path, which is to wait until david's got a firm enough grip and then back up hard and fast into the wall to crush him between the mine and evan himself.
it won't be hard enough to break anything, but it should wind him, or at least get him to let go. if it doesn't, he'll try it again, still trying to grab at anything close enough to his shoulders to get hold of. ]
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[ his grip slacks the first time his back hits the wall, winds him enough that one of the legs he was trying to hook around trapper for stability falls uselessly, but david is always one to make a situation as painful as possible for everyone involved. if he's going to hurt, he's sure as fuck going to make sure trapper does too. ]
[ he grabs on to one of those pieces of shrapnel sticking out of evan's shoulder, grip tight enough that when he backs up into that wall again and david falters, all his weight is, for a moment, hanging off that hunk of metal. less a threat and more a promise, because david reckons he's got maybe one more hit in him before it's too difficult to stay up here, but he's planning to take this with him when he falls. ]
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he can feel david starting to slip off, but as always, he doesn't expect the grab to the shrapnel. he really doesn't expect david to hang his whole body weight off it. the agony as it starts to rip through him, tearing skin and muscle alike as it comes loose too slowly to deal with, gets a noise out of him that's both the closest and further from human he's ever sounded in a fight.
it stops evan in his tracks, that's for sure. he scrabbles frantically over his shoulder to grab david and wrench him up, get the leverage loose before the metal snaps and leaves him a bleeding, nearly-crippled wreck. whether he can manage it or not, though, is up in the air. david's losing his grip on evan's back, but not on the metal, and that makes him even harder to find. ]
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[ not right now though. right now all david knows is he needs this man hurt and bleeding. it's single-minded, the way he hangs his weight off that piece of metal, bends his legs like he's doing fucking pull-ups just to make extra sure he doesn't hit the ground before that fucking thing either breaks or tears loose. david's not picky. ]
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the metal snaps, but deep in the muscle, and tears its way free. as david drops, so does evan, onto his hands and knees as the pain ricochets through him and stuns him for longer than he can afford to be stunned. the shoulder the metal was embedded in feels numb at the same time as it pulses with red-hot agony.
almost as bad.
he knows david's suddenly got an upper hand, but he can't do anything about it. evan tries to recover, but it's so hard to try and push himself up, even on his good arm. ]
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[ what's more important right now is the jagged piece of metal in his hand. not as good as the one he'd last ripped out of trapper, but it's a weapon. close enough to one, at least, for when david descends on trapper, halfway fucking feral, to stab him in the neck with it. once, twice, whatever. as many fucking times as it takes. ]
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but it does draw blood, and it hurts like hell, and evan brings up a hand to try and stop him even as his whole body rebels against the idea of anything other than trying to recover. david lands another hit, and another. hard and strong enough to split the skin and dig into his neck, avoiding immediate death only by sheer luck. only the one arm is willing to respond right now, so he does the only thing he can and tries to tackle david.
there's not much force behind it. he's barely up off the ground. but he puts as much weight as he can into it, trying to get his good hand around david's, trying to wrench it and get him to hurt enough to drop the shrapnel even as it buries itself further into his throat. another few blows and he's going to be on his way out - unacceptable - but he doesn't die fast, or easy, and never has. ]
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[ there isn't really any thought in his head except the haze of bloodlust, anger at being so close to taking this bastard out and having that taken away (what feels like) so fucking easily. david feels like he's losing his fucking mind, how many times is he going to come close to beating trapper only to have it ripped out of his grasp. how many times is he gonna have his hands soaked in this guy's blood and be the one who dies anyway? ]
[ equal parts exhausted and enraged, it's pretty standard for david at this point. but like evan he doesn't intend to go down fast or easy, not if he can help it. ]
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but the instinct to win is as strong for him as it is for david - more they have in common that neither one probably wants to acknowledge. he makes an effort to hurl his entire body weight on david, crush him down and choke him out with an arm across the throat while he tries and fails to stem the blood from his neck. no chance of doing it with the agonizing tear in his shoulder, which isn't helping.
his other arm almost has feeling back, but it still won't obey him well enough. too sluggish. too much pain when he moves the shoulder at all. so he just lets that one go for now and tries to bear the brunt of all of david's attacks as he tries with everything he has to crush david's throat, which probably isn't going to be as successful as he'd like. ]
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[ david wheezes under the weight of the arm across his neck, tries to get one of his hands under it to push back, take at least a little of the pressure off. he coughs, eyes blurred and watery, sputtering out a laboured curse between gritted teeth. ]
[ he reaches out with his other hand, grabs at trapper's throat. at first like he plans to simply try and choke him in return, but he quickly changes tack to try for something more effective, dragging his fingers over blood-slick skin to find those stab wounds and, well. jam his fingers into them. ]
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but david's good at that, too, or so he's found. and so he has no idea if he's a dead man here, or if david is.
he bears down on david only for david's fingers to find the bloody wounds at his throat and digging in and wrenching and the noise he makes isn't angry because it isn't human. or maybe it's exclusively human - the sound of pain in a throat that's being mutilated by force. his other arm still isn't working right, so he can't stop him, can't yank him away.
his only other option is to push away, freeing david but also freeing himself. he hits the far wall and sits against it, grabbing at his bleeding throat, breathing in an unhealthy bubbling way. and watching david with a look somewhere between sheer murderous rage and seriously pissed-off disbelief. ]
no subject
[ he staggers to his feet, fighting posture but it's sluggish, hunched in that way that suggests there's some real damage hiding under the surface. ]
[ and then his eyes find evan sitting against the wall and something in him kind of - deflates. without the immediacy of the fight, he's suddenly aware of just how badly he wanted to kill him in the moment. of blood all over him that isn't his and david doesn't know how to process that. not that he ever thought he was a good man, but at least he never-- ]
C'mon-- You're not dyin' are you?
[ kind of a dick thing to say if not for the edge of disbelief in his tone. part of him honestly wants trapper to just get up like this is just some temporary problem and that's. weird. it's weird. ]
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is he dying? it wouldn't be the first time, here, and not even the first time at the hands of a survivor, but it would be the first time at david's hands. it's infuriating every time. he's not supposed to be able to die to anyone else. he's better than them. all of them. and yet, here is, on the floor, with david above him and his throat almost cut.
he snarls, a wheezing noise at this point, and curls the fingers of his recovering hand into a fist. ]
No one - dies - here.
[ strictly speaking. he can feel himself regenerating, just a little, but it won't keep up with what david's been doing. evan braces himself for another attack, ready to let himself bleed out if it means taking david with him. it's not a win, but at least it's not a win for david, either. ]
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[ amazing how, in the cocktail of weird and uncomfortable emotions david is feeling, he still manages to sound impatient and annoyed. ]
[ but still, david gets down on a knee — out of immediate arms' length, but close enough he can look properly at evan. a frown on his face, but still... not exactly concern or anything like it, but an expression that suggests he's not exactly happy with this situation. ]
You want me-- [ he looks around, eyes fall on the cleaver where it fell near the door, and frowns thoughtfully. ] I could finish it.
[ it's an offer, one he feels uncertain about and fully expects to be turned down, but still. he's not just gonna pick it up and start hacking the guy to pieces, even if it would be extremely justified in his opinion. ]
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he might respect that kind of death. might. and yet when david outright offers to kill him, it spurs the fury and he manages to find the strength in him to lunge again, but it's got half the strength of before even if he is aiming to lock his blood-covered hand over david's throat and bear him down to the ground.
it'd take more effort than he might be willing to expend to break david's neck here and now, but he glowers, teeth grit, eyes blazing, throat bleeding, as he tries to get david down.
it's about as close as a fuck you as he's going to get in this state. ]
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[ it's not exactly hard to catch david, not in the state he's in, but that doesn't mean he's got no fight left in him. his back hits the ground, knocks something else loose that he can't afford to waste time thinking about. it propels him right back where he was before, kill or be killed. this time he reaches for the hand at his throat, grabs for evan's thumb to pull it back, break it so he can't keep a grip. ]
[ tries to push him off at the same time, bucks and shoves to try and get evan away from him, so he can roll out from under him and get away. if he wants to bleed out like a stuck pig then so fucking be it. ]
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given the circumstances, evan's not in any position to actually hold him down. not with his strength rapidly bleeding out through the gouged holes in his throat. david forces him off and evan hits the floor again heavily, and this time it's not as easy to get up. he manages to push himself up halfway at least, watching david, not helpless by any means but in no place to defend himself against a few well-placed kicks.
but he also can't stop david from running. at this point, he'll never catch up. the only risk left is the traps. ]
no subject
[ it's slow moving, david dragging himself toward the doorway of the workshop to pick it up. it feels both wrong and yet very right in the moment as he curls his fingers around the cleaver's handle, grip tight. secure. he turns, walks back with careful, deliberate steps to offset the way his body lists to the side, the slight limp. expression set in a hard line, not much anger but more... resolution. should've just done this to begin with instead of being a pussy about it. offering because he didn't want to make the choice himself, what a crock of shit. his father-- ]
You're right. Shoulda just done this without makin' a thing of it.
[ maybe he's stalling a little, but it's not real. not in any way that matters. and like fuck should he feel off about killing some bastard who's killer him how many hundreds of times. he sucks in a breath, and unless evan stops him somehow, david intends to make it quick but by no means painless. swinging down at him-- at his neck, his head. however many blows it takes for him to die finally. ]
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it should make him angrier, but the blood loss means the rage is draining. what's left in its place isn't much. just emptiness. just the realization that he got bested, again, by a fucking survivor, in his own place. and now with his own weapon.
he doesn't say anything. just glares, all the fury left in him clear on his face. there's no way to really stop david, but -
evan tries to block the blade with his good hand, which just means it gets split before the cleaver makes its way to his neck. grabbing the blade doesn't do much good because it's a powerful weapon, designed to kill, and that means even his burned and broken skin isn't immune to it. eventually, there's enough of a slash to bleed him out, and he slowly sinks the rest of the way to the floor to die. or at least come close.
and the anger's still there, clinging to his features, the whole time he goes. ]
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[ weird, that. dying doesn't feel so real outside the trials, but apparently killing does. or maybe it's just because he's never done it before. david wonders if it's like this for everyone, the way he feels nauseous and electric at the same time. his hands are shaking, something he only notices when he drops the cleaver in the dirt next to evan's body, and that too makes him want to laugh. ]
[ he sits — falls, almost —against the wall, next to the body. heavy breaths that rattle and wheeze in his chest as he pulls his knees up, rests his elbows on them and puts his head in his hands while he tries to get his shit together before he drags his way back to camp. or maybe he'll just sit here and dissociate for a year. ]