Arya
Hanging on the wall like a monument while your life seeps out of you is not something anyone wants to experience.
My head feels lighter by the second. The bleeding has slowed, slow enough not to kill me immediately, and fast enough to empty my bank.
Fang's laughter has faded to a whisper at the back of my mind.
The pain coursing through my body makes it impossible to focus a single thought.
A bead of perspiration drips from my forehead and slides between my eyes.
I force my eyes to remain open, to keep looking at Han. I don't want the darkness to close in on me just yet.
My eyelids are drooping of their own accord.
Han slowly rises up from the ground, hunched over his knees.
When he looks up at me, I don't see any tear tracks - he hadn't been crying. But, I see raw and unsheathed pain. A pain that I can empathize with - but he doesn't need my empathy, he wants my blood.
Had he been in love with her or were they bonded like... siblings?
