It was around about the time Anton's hands dug right into the wooden floorboards that Erskine finally and abruptly realised just what he was doing. The image of Anton's Gist seared itself into his mind, and he suddenly had to work very hard to keep his arm right where it was. He couldn't quite help the rest of his body tensing, or his free hand curling into a fist, or - as the noises Anton made grew more strangled and guttural - a small flame from flaring in his closed-off palm.
He knew none of it would do any good, if Anton did change. If Anton changed, Erskine was a dead man, in every sense of the phrase. He was taking the largest gamble he ever had, and would probably ever, take.
But.
But, even with the time to think this through, Erskine would have made the same choice all over again. But, it was what the Dead Men did; they took risks for each other. But, the gut feeling Erskine had, insisting that Anton's ingrained desire to protect people would stop him from losing control, was strong enough that even with fire in his closed fist Erskine didn't move.
But, his trust in Anton was a lot stronger than his fear of the Gist was.
It took a while. It took long enough that Erskine stopped keeping track of time, even when his knees started complaining about the crouch he'd never left. The floor creaked occasionally as Erskine shifted, but he never thought of leaving, and he remained on high alert for most of the time. At least, until the flame eventually petered out. And, slowly, Erskine's tense posture followed that flame into nonexistence. Anton didn't change, didn't say anything, and for what felt like an eternity, nothing changed.
Eventually, it started to rain again, large and frighteningly fat raindrops pattering ceaselessly against the window Anton had closed without a word earlier in the morning. But that was the only sound outside of Anton's ragged breathing, and Erskine took the opportunity to start wondering how the world had spiraled so far out of his control in just a few short minutes.
But he didn't let himself think any further than that. He couldn't, if he was going to keep being here for Anton.
"I am," he agreed with a chuckle. He couldn't deny that an end to the relative silence came as a relief, but he could certainly hide it - and hide it he did. Because it was Anton crouched in front of him, and not his Gist. "And you're an idiot, Anton Shudder. Are you aware that you're coughing up blood?"
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He knew none of it would do any good, if Anton did change. If Anton changed, Erskine was a dead man, in every sense of the phrase. He was taking the largest gamble he ever had, and would probably ever, take.
But.
But, even with the time to think this through, Erskine would have made the same choice all over again. But, it was what the Dead Men did; they took risks for each other. But, the gut feeling Erskine had, insisting that Anton's ingrained desire to protect people would stop him from losing control, was strong enough that even with fire in his closed fist Erskine didn't move.
But, his trust in Anton was a lot stronger than his fear of the Gist was.
It took a while. It took long enough that Erskine stopped keeping track of time, even when his knees started complaining about the crouch he'd never left. The floor creaked occasionally as Erskine shifted, but he never thought of leaving, and he remained on high alert for most of the time. At least, until the flame eventually petered out. And, slowly, Erskine's tense posture followed that flame into nonexistence. Anton didn't change, didn't say anything, and for what felt like an eternity, nothing changed.
Eventually, it started to rain again, large and frighteningly fat raindrops pattering ceaselessly against the window Anton had closed without a word earlier in the morning. But that was the only sound outside of Anton's ragged breathing, and Erskine took the opportunity to start wondering how the world had spiraled so far out of his control in just a few short minutes.
But he didn't let himself think any further than that. He couldn't, if he was going to keep being here for Anton.
"I am," he agreed with a chuckle. He couldn't deny that an end to the relative silence came as a relief, but he could certainly hide it - and hide it he did. Because it was Anton crouched in front of him, and not his Gist. "And you're an idiot, Anton Shudder. Are you aware that you're coughing up blood?"