#hey bitchums i made time just 4 u

[deathsscourge]

“You better not die on me.”

Blood wells in his throat, stifling any attempt at laughing. As the failed chuckle falls on chapped lips, and red liquid dribbles from them, he casts a tired gaze to their surroundings. The fog dances with blurry vision, dark trunks twisting and swirling with each slow movement of his head. Overhanging branches block what little light would come from such a dreary, starless sky. Though crows circle him far above; cawing, as if bells tolling for each minute life slipped away. As dead grass tickles bare skin around his wound, ripped fabric torn across the man’s shuddering figure reveals a deep gash. 

His glove is drenched, soaked red from a fruitless effort. Bandages in a similar state had begun to fall away, the hasty job proving useless after another swift chase. It was a miracle anyone had found him silently bleeding out. And of all people… 

“I’ve been living this long for you…” The woodsman’s delirious mind supplies, as he shifts to meet Philip’s unique eyes. Pain spikes through his body; a wheeze escaping him, expression scrunching to will away an encroaching darkness.