[He doesn't hear it. It's just ringing noise, a sharp, painful whine that pierces through his brain and heart. This feels more like drowning than when he'd drowned, that pressure from without and within, his throat closing with the weight. Bi'an, Bi'an, Bi'an.
He dives for it, grabbing it and rolling--his folly still an unmistakably skilled one, though it's not enough to protect him from the claws that sink into his back. The crowds of shadows have thinned, but he's still overwhelmed. And still, he positions the old, ragged, unbearably dusty umbrella under him, not so much screaming as roaring as first fabric, then flesh is split, yielding thick, black blood.
If he fights back, he risks letting go again, losing him again. He'll endure, then. Better he be the one waiting, enduring, than Bi'an. ]
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He dives for it, grabbing it and rolling--his folly still an unmistakably skilled one, though it's not enough to protect him from the claws that sink into his back. The crowds of shadows have thinned, but he's still overwhelmed. And still, he positions the old, ragged, unbearably dusty umbrella under him, not so much screaming as roaring as first fabric, then flesh is split, yielding thick, black blood.
If he fights back, he risks letting go again, losing him again. He'll endure, then. Better he be the one waiting, enduring, than Bi'an. ]