[ Sypha's presence is calming. Soft and steady, like sunlight-warmed earth. He keeps timing his breath to the movement of her hand on his, trying to match her own. Tries to will his heart to stop racing. It's working. Slowly, slowly, it's working.
The panic leaves a vacuum, though. There's nothing there when it fades. No bravado. No training. No determination. Even the self-deprecation that he's clinging to only fills it halfway. There's just a raw, empty place where it was. His steadier breath becomes ragged. His body curls in on itself. He's not realised yet that there are tears beginning to trail down his cheeks. ]
I'm sorry. [ How many times has he said that these last few days? It feels like that's just what it sounds like when he exhales, by now. Does it even mean anything anymore? ]
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The panic leaves a vacuum, though. There's nothing there when it fades. No bravado. No training. No determination. Even the self-deprecation that he's clinging to only fills it halfway. There's just a raw, empty place where it was. His steadier breath becomes ragged. His body curls in on itself. He's not realised yet that there are tears beginning to trail down his cheeks. ]
I'm sorry. [ How many times has he said that these last few days? It feels like that's just what it sounds like when he exhales, by now. Does it even mean anything anymore? ]