( maybe it's better, that he has tearing open this window to focus on. because watching the inky terror slink closer — so goddamn slow, like it's got all the time in the world — keeps him from getting stalled out in fear. Steve isn't immune to fear, no matter how many times he's been in the thick of danger. still, having someone he feels a need to protect usually is enough to keep him from getting completely paralyzed. he doesn't know Aerith at all, and it still doesn't matter. he'll do whatever he can to keep her safe.
seeing her scramble one leg out the window makes him feel strangely better. at least one of them is likely to get out of this hell room. Aerith hucks the poker at the lumbering monster and it lands directly on the blank space that is the things face and it just keeps inching closer. heavy, wheezy sighs setting his skin crawling, and hair sticking up on the back of Steve's neck.
it's for the best Aerith grabs a handful of his shirt and drags him toward their escape, a great reminder to get the hell moving. he ducks his head out and grips the window sill, trying to pull his legs out after. one comes, the other doesn't, because one sneakered foot is suddenly in the grip of one of the long hands of the monster, each finger twining and snarling and tightening, slowly slowly slowly — )
What the fuck? ( Steve says, trying to yank his leg back, disturbed by fingers that shouldn't be able to twine and wrap and snarl like vines. worse yet, the blank face that starts to unfurl like a hideous flower, lined with more teeth than anyone could count. ) Fuck! ( Steve says, voice definitely a panicked shout this time. sorry, Aerith's fancy stick — he is definitely smacking the dark grip of the arm and fingers, his own ankle be damned. ) Pull, you gotta pull, it's got me.
( and Steve is distinctly terrified by what will happen if that mouth gets close to him. if Aerith drags him out and he lands like a box of rocks, he'll survive. he's not so sure that'll be true if he sticks it out with monster dad. )
no subject
seeing her scramble one leg out the window makes him feel strangely better. at least one of them is likely to get out of this hell room. Aerith hucks the poker at the lumbering monster and it lands directly on the blank space that is the things face and it just keeps inching closer. heavy, wheezy sighs setting his skin crawling, and hair sticking up on the back of Steve's neck.
it's for the best Aerith grabs a handful of his shirt and drags him toward their escape, a great reminder to get the hell moving. he ducks his head out and grips the window sill, trying to pull his legs out after. one comes, the other doesn't, because one sneakered foot is suddenly in the grip of one of the long hands of the monster, each finger twining and snarling and tightening, slowly slowly slowly — )
What the fuck? ( Steve says, trying to yank his leg back, disturbed by fingers that shouldn't be able to twine and wrap and snarl like vines. worse yet, the blank face that starts to unfurl like a hideous flower, lined with more teeth than anyone could count. ) Fuck! ( Steve says, voice definitely a panicked shout this time. sorry, Aerith's fancy stick — he is definitely smacking the dark grip of the arm and fingers, his own ankle be damned. ) Pull, you gotta pull, it's got me.
( and Steve is distinctly terrified by what will happen if that mouth gets close to him. if Aerith drags him out and he lands like a box of rocks, he'll survive. he's not so sure that'll be true if he sticks it out with monster dad. )