@guiltscorched said: My muse takes a hit to protect your muse from a fatal attack, how does your muse react? / fyodor sees the angel fall as if in slow motion, and staggers. this was not the plan. this was not how he foresaw it; this was not supposed to be. sigma, with all his foolish fits of emotion, was supposed to stay on the chessboard where fyodor had placed him. yet here, he leaps from it, directly into an attack intended to kill.
the demon is cold and methodical as he acts now, plans re-forming and crystallising in the grim chambers of his mind. he draws the gun hidden in his coat and shoots their assailant, disregarding his previous intent to press them for information. instinct now demands that he attend to sigma and so he does, weak arms dragging the prone - but alive! - form into their hold. "foolish," he mutters, as he begins to walk: carrying sigma, slowly and carefully, back where fyodor may tend to him. he is not permitted to die just yet. "things like this will be your undoing, sigma."
MY MUSE TAKES A HIT TO PROTECT YOURS FROM A FATAL ATTACK, SEND YOUR MUSES REACTION
Everything had been going to plan until it wasn’t. It wasn’t a big display, the shift in the man’s body language. It was a CASUAL gesture as a matter of fact, ordinary. Except it immediately set alarms up to Sigma because in all the behavior he’d been observing, the man did not display such body language. Instinctual dread kicked into high gear, an awareness that SOMETHING was wrong. It crawled like a spider down his spine, a gut feeling that Death was looming and Fyodor was in danger. It was an instinct he trusted because it’d helped him survive his own darkest times. He didn’t hesitate to throw himself in front of the russian mere seconds before the first gunshot rang out, loud and clear.
It’s fast and slow at he same time. The millisecond of shock before the pain claws into his chest with razor sharp talons and macabre flowers blossom on his chest as red stains his suit. It must’ve only been a few milliseconds, before Sigma finds himself falling slowly like he’s sinking through heavy water. He doesn’t feel the pain when he hits the ground or hear the second gunshot, everything feels muted and far way. Everything except the pain that tears at his mind nd the garden of red that grows from his chest with each passing second.
A weak, faint noise leaves his wounded chest when he feels arms grab him, and for a moment he struggles between the present and the ghosts of past, but it’s gone in a moment when he feels himself be drawn closer to the warmth of someone else, when he hears the familiar voice in his ear. He blinks, dull eyes lifting to look towards Fyodor at the comment.
“ No. “ It hurts to speak, the words claw at his throat, but still Sigma speaks, shaking his head slowly in disagreement to the assessment. “ Not to me at least. Not when your life was in danger. “ Fyodor’s life has value to it. But Sigma’s . . .
His head weakly tucks itself against Fyodor’s shoulder. He didn’t expect to be LIFTED, but he doesn’t complain. He doesn’t cry or whimper at any step that send jolts of pain through overactive nerves. The angel stays muted in his suffering, speaking only in his thoughts on his acts. He endured his suffering in silence as he always has. The words give him something to focus on, to help with the lightheadedness even as his eyes half-close. “ You’re okay though . . . that’s good . . . “ A absently mumbled comment, though if it was intended for Fyodor or Sigma to himself was an impossible task to tell without the man himself confirming its intended audience.
“ Probably. “ Sigma smiles a sad sort of knowing smile, whispering his agreement as he remains tucked against Fyodor’s body. “ But I should think that I would not regret it, if there is at least meaning in it. ” His eyes squeeze shut for a moment when wave of white hot pain seems as though it will override his sense. “..I- I’m sorry for having to change plans. “ He adds, voice growing softer, lifting his eyes up to catch a glimpse of the other. “ I can...can try to grab the information from the corpse..” He mumbles in offering, one hand clutched over the wound to apply at least some pressure to help slow the blood loss. THAT is perhaps the foolish aspect of this - to offer when he’s certain Fyodor will not accept.
How the angel loathes to be an inconvenience! But he would relive it again a thousand times over and change nothing if it meant to save Fyodor the pain of injury or from Death’s hungry jaws.
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Quick question before I give out my theory on the Glamrocks Freddy and Mike dilemma, but to be safe, how much bout Help Wanted 2 do you know in terms of lore?? OwO
A LOT OF IT 😭
It’s one of my favorite fnaf games and honestly it’s been one of the games I’ve been trying to dissect in terms of the story.
It also supports a couple of my own theories that I previously thought about before its release. DHSISJSH
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