#proxy k

Proxy takes a long, rattling breath. Rytlock can feel his heart beat in useless terror against his palm. It’s desperate. Trying it’s best. But the sticky mess of blood that’s coating his claws is the nail in the coffin, here.

He wasn’t there for Snaff. Or Eir. He hadn’t been there for a lot of people when they died. Most didn’t haunt him too bad.

Told himself it was just part of the fight. The charr understood that. Any man of war would.

“Commander.” He says. He looks up, staring blankly into the sky. It feels wrong to gawk at someone he respects when they look like this. He knows enough about Proxy to understand it’s not what he would want.

Kasmeer’s kneeling next to him now, hands hovering in silent horror over a crushed shoulder. Out of his periphery, Rytlock sees her face crumple. She’s just realized there isn’t anything to be done except wait. The commander doesn’t seem to even realize she’s there.

That’s why he’s staying put; standing, cradling a dying man who’s whole torso fits into just one of his paws. His hand is the last thing keeping the asura from the Mists.

If it were one of his men, he’d have already put him out of the misery. But nothing’s ever been simple when it came to the commander, and the very thought of Logan’s reaction almost makes him growl. Being accused of murder would finally be enough to make him bite his head off like he’d been tempted to do for years now. And, maybe, a very small part of him is hoping a miracle will happen. Something in the next ten seconds to save the day.

That’s the commander’s own thinking getting to him.

He knows better.

The asura shudders in his grasp - drawing him out of his thoughts. Trembling like he’s cold, despite it being a normal, sweltering evening in Amnoon. Stuttered gasps are cut short. Drowned out by the sound of blood choking an airway. He speaks, but it’s nothing above a whisper...barely coherent.

Something about Aurene. A searing image of Glint and Snaff briefly skip through his mind when her name’s mentioned.

The light of Sohothin casts a sickly yellow on them both, making the cooling ashes jump out like they’re fresh. There’s still no laughter, but this has to be some kind of sick joke.