[ this far out, castle bran seems less imposing, made deceptively small and dismissable with distance. to think, that was where he was expecting to die only hours ago, a lifetime ago, seconds, heartbeats ago. the sounds of battle have begun to trail off, the skies less aflutter with unwanted visitors, but choso cannot take his eyes off of it. could not if he tried. awareness is a tunnel, and smoking castle bran lay at the end of it like a fairytale illustration.
a familiar voice is what pulls choso's attention back to the land of the living, has him craning his head first one way and then the other before he finally finds its source. ]
Not yet.
[ the stare that levels on bakugo from behind that bloody mop of hair is laser focused, so wide that the whites of his eyes almost shine with their own awful luminescence.
he's only half-certain himself it's a man that bakugo's talking to right now. ]
no subject
a familiar voice is what pulls choso's attention back to the land of the living, has him craning his head first one way and then the other before he finally finds its source. ]
Not yet.
[ the stare that levels on bakugo from behind that bloody mop of hair is laser focused, so wide that the whites of his eyes almost shine with their own awful luminescence.
he's only half-certain himself it's a man that bakugo's talking to right now. ]