[ picking fights with the devil ] - open; discovery?

[daniel]

By the time someone inevitably found him, considering the fact that howling wasn't exactly quiet, for obvious reasons, Danny was threatening to pass out from stress and the overpowering scent of death, which just circled back and increased his stress over the situation. The shock seemed to pass pretty quickly, the adrenaline that gave him the ability to push a fucking tree off his mother's body leaving his system with it, though much, much slower. At the very least, he was able to show some emotion finally, beyond the misery that had already been situated for some time. His body quivered subconsciously, the world around him starting to blur as his eyes watered, a little bit at first, then the wetness of his face rivaling the damp fur over his sustained injuries. Part of him wanted to at least know when she got trapped under there, and if it was instant or...no, no, he changed his mind, he didn't want to think about that. The possibility that she'd been under there longer than she needed to be, it made him want to retch. He didn't, but he thought he would for a second.

Standing on the very precipice of hyperventilating, Danny flinched when he felt someone else touch him, the voice that called out to him beforehand sort of going over his head, fading into white noise. Tearing his eyes away was difficult, and once much closer to him he could at least differentiate the new scent from the overhanging one, which was more than enough identification. Only one person carried the scent of rose and the sea. The problem with comfort was the same as the lost grip on any composure when asked if you were okay when you clearly were not. He sort of lost it, making an attempt to say anything ended in just a sharp voice crack and gasp for air. So he resorted to lean against Vayne, making an attempt to not knock her over or anything.

"Danny... you're hurt."

Was he? Danny suddenly felt a sting somewhere on his body, and looked over to where the pain seemed to originate, no longer oblivious to his injuries, but still not quite all there to process that he was in pain. He rolled back his bloody shoulder, thankful at least that he wasn't just smearing blood all over Vayne, and shook his head. "I'm...I'm f-fine." No he wasn't. A choked sound and a feeling like he'd been punched in the chest was his only response, out of breath immediately, when Lumia mentioned a burial. He felt real dizzy. What a fine mess this all was, huh? He tried to take a step back, nearly collapsing as his back leg threatened to give out. Ouch.

[glow=black,2,300]— ❤ —[/glow]