[They must make a strange scene to stumble upon, the two of them huddling behind a heap of desiccated bones and curled into one another. The others would think him useless: he knows that some already think as much, and frankly he cannot argue with their assessment. Helplessness is a feeling against which he had fought so hard that he nearly forgot what it was like, until that night nearly a year ago when everything unraveled. Now it seems to grow more familiar day by day.
All he can do is mumble noncommittally against Oliver's shoulder and keep breathing, in and out in a rhythm made steady only by force. In an out, while beyond their hiding place the battle rages on and the minotaur is worn down; in and out, while he tries to vanish from his surroundings, but for Oliver beside him.]
no subject
All he can do is mumble noncommittally against Oliver's shoulder and keep breathing, in and out in a rhythm made steady only by force. In an out, while beyond their hiding place the battle rages on and the minotaur is worn down; in and out, while he tries to vanish from his surroundings, but for Oliver beside him.]