She'd fallen. Why had she fallen? Did he not know his strength? Was he overbearing in his actions? Whatever the reason was, she fell, and he felt horrible.
Nothing but instinct had taken the man over at that point. Without even thinking, he scooped her up in his arms and charged forward. Never looking back at the tower. One moment, they were fine, the next, in certain line of death. Moses-Joel Perfetti would not be foolish. Not again. He made that mistake by lingering once. He would not make it again.
Eventually, they were far from the base of the tower, as far as his legs could carry. They slowed from a run, to a heavy jog, to a quivering walk, to a wobbling standstill. His whole body shook, every fiber of his being tingling with utter terror. There had been few times he'd experienced a cold sweat, and now it manifested once more. Strands of loose hair clung to his wet face, and his chest and shoulders heaved with all the surging recoil of what just occurred.
Mimora was still held in his arms, a white-knuckled grip on that little woman. He wouldn't let her out of his grasp, couldn't if he tried. He may have witnessed the face of death a second time, and had he stayed he would've surely led her to her fate as well. He would not be responsible, not have that hanging over his conscience in a second death. He would not!
Eventually, his knees buckled in his reeling shock, and his thighs fell onto his calves. He still held her, still kept her close to himself. But all the feeling in his legs were gone; he couldn't move anymore. His mouth grew dry and a lump formed in his throat as he tried to communicate, to get past his shock once more.
"Are you alright...?" he asked. His words were barely audible.
Nothing but instinct had taken the man over at that point. Without even thinking, he scooped her up in his arms and charged forward. Never looking back at the tower. One moment, they were fine, the next, in certain line of death. Moses-Joel Perfetti would not be foolish. Not again. He made that mistake by lingering once. He would not make it again.
Eventually, they were far from the base of the tower, as far as his legs could carry. They slowed from a run, to a heavy jog, to a quivering walk, to a wobbling standstill. His whole body shook, every fiber of his being tingling with utter terror. There had been few times he'd experienced a cold sweat, and now it manifested once more. Strands of loose hair clung to his wet face, and his chest and shoulders heaved with all the surging recoil of what just occurred.
Eventually, his knees buckled in his reeling shock, and his thighs fell onto his calves. He still held her, still kept her close to himself. But all the feeling in his legs were gone; he couldn't move anymore. His mouth grew dry and a lump formed in his throat as he tried to communicate, to get past his shock once more.
"Are you alright...?" he asked. His words were barely audible.
