[The blade cuts into his neck, and immediately, Richtofen brings both hands up to grip it. Apply pressure, apply pressure, apply pressure...
He can't breathe.
He makes a strangled gurgling noise, frozen in place with his hands clasped over the wound. He can't tell how deep it is, isn't thinking about whether it's the cut or the pressure of his own hands against it that's choking him off, because all he can think of is that he's going to die. He's going to die again. No, no, no, he hates this, he's always hated it, he doesn't want to die--
Richtofen can't force any words out. All of the anger has drained off his face, leaving in its wake nothing but absolute terror. This'll be the first time he's died since he learned about what really happens to their bodies, their souls. He doesn't want to die knowing that he won't remember what happens to him between the time his light fades, and when he wakes up, paralyzed, in his bed.
It doesn't seem, though, like he has much of a choice.]
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He can't breathe.
He makes a strangled gurgling noise, frozen in place with his hands clasped over the wound. He can't tell how deep it is, isn't thinking about whether it's the cut or the pressure of his own hands against it that's choking him off, because all he can think of is that he's going to die. He's going to die again. No, no, no, he hates this, he's always hated it, he doesn't want to die--
Richtofen can't force any words out. All of the anger has drained off his face, leaving in its wake nothing but absolute terror. This'll be the first time he's died since he learned about what really happens to their bodies, their souls. He doesn't want to die knowing that he won't remember what happens to him between the time his light fades, and when he wakes up, paralyzed, in his bed.
It doesn't seem, though, like he has much of a choice.]