Caliban could not take his eyes off the wound. He was much too focused to stave of its effects to notice Raven's presence at first, but she was noticed nonetheless as soon as she offered help. He shook his head, teal smog slowly escaping through his clothing. He was growing weaker and weaker.
Time passed, and the silence eventually broke in a flurry of pained groans from both individuals. Vincent's wound would stop bleeding, and the cracks themselves had "dried up", somehow. Caliban was drained, however. He fell on the ground tired and gasping for air.
Just get out. Just get out.
A long pause ensued as the two gathered their strength to at least face the clandestine mind that invaded what little was left of themselves.
Wish we met ... in better ... circumstances ... Wish we met ... in better ... circumstances ...
"Test the sharpness of your sword against another. And when that is not enough, unsheathe your cunning as the hidden dagger that ends the fight."
