Sanctuary || itsabloodygurl
With every passing moment, the overhanging threat of meeting his end intensified, the dark haired male bowing his forehead against the solid surface of the door he relentlessly pounded with his fist; tiny speckles of black dancing up to hinder his vision as his head span with a deep set nausea that proved utterly merciless. It seemed to be turning into quite the twisted circumstance, him wondering which would occur first, him passing out of the monstrosity that was chasing him covering enough ground to snatch him up from where he stood; Vince logically holding out for the former, at least then he wouldn’t have to be conscious for the moment the horror that lurked in the shadows delivered it’s fatal blow.
His heart was racing and if the theory of any living thing only having a certain amount of heartbeats within its lifetime before the muscle gave out beneath the strain of it all were true, the warrior understood he was being rather wasteful when it came to his personal allowance; the need to calm himself, to urge his figure into adopting the usual sense of control it possessed during battle overwhelmingly vital, although somewhat impossible given the battering his body had been propelled through in the previous cluster of hours. He was a complete and utter wreck, anyone who laid eyes upon him could deduce such a fact within seconds, his hair matted, his flesh slicked with blood, sweat and ichor; his clothes torn and littered with bodily fluids. He looked about as well as he felt, a deep ache that was gradually infecting his bones distracting him from the oncoming footsteps on the other side of the door; his senses delayed in the act of picking up the presence of another, a familiar voice finally pulling him back into a state of much needed clarity.
“Newt…” He breathed out, his husky tone fading fast along with every ounce of energy that’d been magnified by a sharp injection of adrenaline into his bloodstream. “I-It’s… V-Vi… Open. The. Door.” As if to emphasize the urgency of the moment, the horrific creature that’d been tailing him through the thick vegetation that surrounded the house he now stood before shrieked, its high pitched whine sending an involuntary shiver down the center of its spine; a scuttle of talons signifying it was making its way towards him. He did the only thing he could, his fist slamming into the surface of the door once again as his deep orbs squeezed shut, a slither of his subconsciousness counting down the seconds until his life was abruptly taken from him.
Vincent. He could recognize that voice anywhere
and given all the times his friend had shown up at his place late at night, this certainly wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for Newt.
Before his mind could go through all the possible scenarios as to why the boy was at his door this time, a deafening sound surrounded him; it definitely came from outside, and Newt knew he had to bring Vincent in the house before anything happened, before it was too late.
He sprung the door open, spending but a second looking at the breathless, bruised boy in front of him. Had this been the first time this happened, Newt probably wouldn’t have noticed the pool of blood forming under his dark attire, or how the grip on his weapon was significantly looser than how he usually held it, or even how his breathing was heavy, indicating he had been running for a while and also that he was close to blacking out
but this had happened many times before, and Newt had seen his friend close to death far more than any person should.
His body took over and repeated the familiar movement of gripping the boy’s wrist and pulling him inside the house, before locking the entrance and making sure no one else would go in.
Vincent’s heavy breaths became louder and Newt took a deep breath himself, trying to stay calm so he could help his friend.
"Vincent." Newt walked over to him, leaning closer to see how bad his injuries were. "What happened this time?"