Punani Dasani [WAP vs Mechabytes Day 2]

He hadn't realized how exhausted he'd been until relief had liquified him at the sight of Lore and Syren walking towards them over the glassy hills. It'd bent him over double until Castor was taller than him and little shards of glass were pressing into his knees.

He waited like that, forehead propped up against Castor's thigh. It was useful, him standing there, even though his legs shook with exhaustion too. They were together there in silence for a while, Sin alert for anyone but the girl's approach. He couldn't let go of Castor's hand, his fingers had locked themselves within his grasp. It was nice to be entwined, it was safe.

They set up camp altogether, Sin bent over dry logs with his box of matches. In the winter, at home, it'd always been his job to keep the fires going in the hospital hearths. Sleeping in shifts had come in handy then, he'd gotten good at sleeping light. It'd always been a little sharp, dragging himself out from under his bench at four in the morning to keep the Mortuus sisters warm.

For Castor, he didn't mind.

Sin sat beside Castor, knees to his chest. He stared at the fire until his eyes stung, unable to move because Castor was using his shoulder as a pillow. He'd always been alright at sleeping sitting up, Sin just didn't want to move suddenly and let Castor fall onto the glass. He could tell that Castor was soft, not because of his blindness but because he just was.

He touched him as if he were something precious instead of Sin Mortuus, hollow and ignored.

So if one of them was going to get cut, it'd be Sin.

Sometime in the evening, Lore had tossed a pillow at his face, made from the crinkling remains of one of the yellow suits they'd found before. When Sin had shown Syren the bottle of pills he'd found earlier, they'd all put one on. It made it harder to hold Castor's hand, the gloves were too big.

He'd laid back then and pulled Castor onto his chest to save him from the glass shards covering the ground. If he lay still enough, the shards didn't move. He could get some restless kind of sleep at least and that was good enough.

It's the voices that wake him first, Castor and Lore speaking, and Cas pushing into his body, pushing his back into the glass. He opens his mouth a little, a stifled gasp of pain inaudible against the sound of the anthem. He's still half-asleep, fighting to keep his eyes open when Castor presses his palm into his thumb. There's heat there, between their skin, Sin wraps his hand around it, cupping it against the wind on their spot between glass mountains.

He hears the instructions and does his best to follow them but his forehead falls against Castor's knee, he can't keep his eyes open anymore. He sleeps again, form wrapped carefully around Castor's in the dark.

In the morning, he takes Castor with him to pee. They crunch away from the girls across the glass together and Sin watches for an attack but none comes then. He's still tense while they pack up camp, antsy as they walk, headed South.

Sin leads the way and he supposes that makes sense. If there are any traps, he'll spring them.

Castor's got energy again, voice almost cheerful as he talks about home. Sin listens, hanging off of every word. Cas's life isn't perfect, he's been sick for most of it, but he has a bedroom and a twin brother. He's got a mom and a dad who love him and a bakery he's allowed to get pastries from. There's a dog he pets sometimes and he plays the piano and Sin, when he shuts his eyes for a moment, can almost see it.

He can pretend that's where they are instead.

And he doesn't know why he's hurting himself like this in the few days that they have. He doesn't know why he thought it would be okay to become reliant on a boy whose going to die, but he could ask Castor the same.

He's trying to figure out how to when the mutts surprise them around a bend in their path. Sin's still for a moment, eyes on all three trying to remember what Saylor had told him about animals only a week ago. He's too slow though, Castor slips from his grasp and Sin reaches for his gun, taking a step back even as one of the mutts sinks its teeth into his thigh.

The pain is instant, white-hot and burning a line through his flesh with a jagged pull. He grits his teeth, a hand wrapping over his leg as if to hold the flaps of his skin together.

Sin reaches his other hand out to grab the mutt by the scruff of its neck. It's nearly the same size as him but it doesn't stop Sin from wrapping an arm around its neck to hold it in place. Then he presses the butt of his gun against the side of its head.

And he shoots.

[sin attacks pinion]
E9UZERx9GKthrowing knife
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