[Yeah, okay, wow. They're already at the head. He breathes out, steeling himself. Now that the dirt is on him, he has a strange sense of being both... comforted and strangled.
It's a weird sensation.
Slowly, he draws in a breath, and then he glances at Kisa and nods. Dirt his face, girl.]
It's only when his face is finally covered that he realizes he hates not knowing how long he's supposed to stay here. Maybe a minute is a minimum, but what if it has to be longer? What if his mouth is supposed to be uncovered because he's meant to stay here for a day?
Okay, stop.
He gives it almost two, but those two feel like he'll never come out. The dirt doesn't even budge; he's as still as stone. And then all at once, he surges forward like he's jumping out of his skin, sitting up and gasping. Dirt clings to his face and hair, his clothes, and he coughs as he tries to regulate his breathing.]
[ Kisa's already stretching out a hand to him, braced to help pull him out. It won't be of much help, but there's something terrifying about the thought of him staying under dirt like that. Even if that was only a minute. ]
[Once he can mostly see without dirt in his eyes, he reaches up without hesitation and clasps Kisa’s hand. The grip is firm, but there’s no pull or yank. He uses more of his own strength to get out than he does rely on her. At the top of the hole, he turns around and flops basically.
He’s still coughing some, but mostly starts trying to knock dirt off himself.]
[He gets most of it off and, surprisingly, she gets a chance to help for a few seconds before he grabs her by the wrist and tries to make her stop getting dirt.]
[Hilariously, this legitimately and visible shocks Damian. He stares, face and shoulders still covered with smudges of dirt, like she had slapped him or something.
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It's a weird sensation.
Slowly, he draws in a breath, and then he glances at Kisa and nods. Dirt his face, girl.]
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She is also absolutely poised to try and haul him out at any given second. ]
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It's only when his face is finally covered that he realizes he hates not knowing how long he's supposed to stay here. Maybe a minute is a minimum, but what if it has to be longer? What if his mouth is supposed to be uncovered because he's meant to stay here for a day?
Okay, stop.
He gives it almost two, but those two feel like he'll never come out. The dirt doesn't even budge; he's as still as stone. And then all at once, he surges forward like he's jumping out of his skin, sitting up and gasping. Dirt clings to his face and hair, his clothes, and he coughs as he tries to regulate his breathing.]
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[ Kisa's already stretching out a hand to him, braced to help pull him out. It won't be of much help, but there's something terrifying about the thought of him staying under dirt like that. Even if that was only a minute. ]
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He’s still coughing some, but mostly starts trying to knock dirt off himself.]
Never again.
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[ Which is why she, herself, is now shaking like a leaf poised to free-fall from its branch, even as she reaches out to help dust him off. ]
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I'm fine. It's over now. Are you... alright?
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[ SHE'S PRETTY UPSET, SIR. ]
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I'm fine! I'm inquiring whether or not you're of sound mind right now!
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[ So. There. ]
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Surprisingly, he's speechless.]
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Go ahead, Damian. Fight her. ]
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Don't worry, this won't occur again.
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[ Ever. ]