[His hands are still shaking when Jean retrieves the blade. Possibly more than before. He seems to be good now, though, and so Armin let's out a short exhale as the attention is shifted back to himself. The constant reminder of bugs crawling under his skin, clawing sharply against gravity to move up, makes it so that his reaction is instant. Of course he has to take them off. Jean can't just blindly stab at him.]
R-right...
[He shifts quickly between his trembling to undo his pants, sliding them off in a quick, desperate scramble between small pained noises. The only hint that he may be embarrassed or uncomfortable about this situation is in the way his gaze is shifted downwards at himself. Not at the bugs in particular-- just at the ground. He takes the torch again, raising it above them and holding his breath a bit.]
[Jean isn't one for privacy. Spending three years in an all-men's barrack desensitizes you to such notions. He doesn't grant Armin any privileges, watching and waiting until he sits back down to grab his leg and pull him closer.]
I'll try and be quick.
[A small mercy. No reason for any enemies to catch Armin with his pants literally down. He leans over his thigh, careful not to block the light. The bug has moved higher, moving dangerously close to his hip. Jean moves quickly, cutting it open and stabbing the beetle in a surprisingly clean dip of the blade. Breathes out a shaky breath of relief, flicking the carcass away.]
That went well.
[Offers him a nervous smile before tearing off more of his shirt and hurriedly wrapping it around the new wound.] Lift up your leg. I think you have one more.
[It's a quick sting compared to the rest of everything. That's what he keeps telling himself to keep his mind off of it, and when Jean tells him to move to make the last one more visible, he listens, leaning back against the wall a bit to shift so he can lift his leg a bit.
The lighting's really unstable at this point, but he's trying his best to hold it still.]
Delicately, Jean lifts Armin's calf up with his free hand, pinpointing the bug. Holding his breath, he presses down and breaks the skin, dragging the blade down. It looks to be going smoothly–practice made perfect.
But then there are brushes against his skin, hovering momentarily before clamping down. Their claws dig in with a simple gesture and the blade moves down by accident. Jean's eyes go wide and he opens his mouth to apologize only to have two claws dip into it and pull, attempting to tear his mouth. More hands join in, digging into the bare flesh on his torso as well as tearing at his thighs and arms. Clothing rips as Jean struggles but there's no hope–the sheer number of them on him is too much for him to break away from. With surprising speed they pull him against the opposite wall, a new claw curling around his neck in a chokehold.
The blade that has now mangled Armin's leg clatters to the floor while Jean writhes and struggles, trapped.]
[The pain is blinding at first, shooting up from his leg through the rest of his body, and it falls without the support of Jean's hand. The good news is the scarab was taken care of. The bad news is that it now feels so numb (aside from the vaguely throbbing pain) that he's not sure he can move it.
But that's not important now, as he watches his friend get pulled away and nearly apart by so many arms. No--!
It didn't matter how weak he was. That it wasn't his strong point or that there were people better at him... As long as he had an understanding of what needed to be done, he was going to try his best in a situation like this. Choking out a noise between a sob and a growl, his hands grip firmly around the blade, until blood is drawn from his own palms at the grip.
Only then does he lean forward in the hallway, sliding closer and swinging the blade down in a harsh motion meant to chop those arms right off. He's careful and particular with his swings, at least, determinedly continuing with yells of determination until he's cut them all.]
[Slowly but surely the hands drop to the ground, leaving Jean stumbling to his knees, gasping for air. His clothes are torn in multiple places and with every tear comes an open wound. But at least he's free.
When he's gained enough breath to speak, he pushes up to one knee.] Thanks.
[It puts him on equal level with Armin's leg, gashed and gushing.] Sorry about the leg.
[Is there anyway he can run on it? Jean doubts it. Using the wall for support, he stands up, still panting.] We should get out of here.
[Which probably means he has to carry him. Tiredly, he half-stumbles forward and clumsily picks him up.] You pick the way.
[He's quick to state this, dropping the blade and staring down at his bloody hand. Everything was bloody by now, between the two of them. He's about halfway through that thought, though, when Jean picks him up. His face tenses up and instinctively one arm wraps around Jean's neck, the other grabbing clumsily at his arm to feel more secure.]
W-wait a second, Jean! [Rationally, he can understand that his leg would be a burden in their running away from creatures. But stubbornly, he doesn't want to cause that sort of problem for the two of them. This way, won't they move even slower?
He shifts, loosening his grip on Jean's arm and lowering it a bit, a small shift in his weight trying to keep himself from leaning on Jean's wounded chest. There are too many problems to even register that his pants are still on the ground, right now.] I can try to walk.
[He says this, but it doesn't sound so confident. Even he realizes this, pausing only briefly before nodding in a direction. One they didn't come from.] We should probably move ahead, but if you see anywhere along the way that's possible for it, we should stop to wrap these wounds and rest. If we keep up like this much longer, it's not likely we'll make it out.
Yeah. [The word comes out brokenly, caught in panting and pained grunts. His body is scraped all over, the cuts deep and running doesn't help him forget. Holding Armin just makes it worse but even then he's still the one better off here. There's no way he'll allow them to switch.]
You keep an eye out. I'm–[He hisses out a curse, darting back just as a hand reaches out for Armin's head. Narrowly dodged. He skips and jumps up his pace.]–I've got my hands full.
[He tightens his grip slightly, still trying not to lean into Jean too much. But honestly, it's a little hard when they're running away like this. Still, he's staring ahead with a determined face, eyes searching out like instructed.
Eventually, he notes a depression in the wall ahead. A doorway or some sort of passage in a different direction? It wasn't the same style as these hallways, at least. One hand moves to point towards it.]
[Ducking under another hand and skirting around a forming mummy, he follows the path Armin had set out for him. The depression isn't far and as he moves closer it becomes clearer–a passage, just big enough for the two of them. Jean slips into it and the monsters don't follow. He breathes a sigh of relief and presses in.
Only to find out that the passage gets narrow. It isn't long before the walls are pressing in and on his old wounds. Jean hisses and grunts in pain as he continues until he can't move anymore.]
[Narrow...? What kind of passageway was this? He shifts lightly in Jean's arms to peer over his shoulder once they don't seem to be moving. No figures following them.]
It looks like they're not following us anymore. [So Jean shouldn't force himself through that narrow way.] Do you think we can afford to stop?
[Armin's not in the best position himself. He shifts to try and give Jean more space for himself, but it brings his feet awkwardly against the wall and his knees in his own face a bit. Not to mention the pain that runs up his leg at the motion.
He frowns, eyes shifting from his bare legs to Jean's face once more.]
[He tries, but the effort draws out an audible wince. He moves an inch and leaves a smear of blood as evidence–the wall is rubbing against his cut.]
Doesn't look like it.
[He fucked up. Should have noticed it sooner. Should have calmed down. Should have should have should have.] You should get out of here. No use in them getting both of us if they come in.
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no subject
R-right...
[He shifts quickly between his trembling to undo his pants, sliding them off in a quick, desperate scramble between small pained noises. The only hint that he may be embarrassed or uncomfortable about this situation is in the way his gaze is shifted downwards at himself. Not at the bugs in particular-- just at the ground. He takes the torch again, raising it above them and holding his breath a bit.]
no subject
I'll try and be quick.
[A small mercy. No reason for any enemies to catch Armin with his pants literally down. He leans over his thigh, careful not to block the light. The bug has moved higher, moving dangerously close to his hip. Jean moves quickly, cutting it open and stabbing the beetle in a surprisingly clean dip of the blade. Breathes out a shaky breath of relief, flicking the carcass away.]
That went well.
[Offers him a nervous smile before tearing off more of his shirt and hurriedly wrapping it around the new wound.] Lift up your leg. I think you have one more.
no subject
[It's a quick sting compared to the rest of everything. That's what he keeps telling himself to keep his mind off of it, and when Jean tells him to move to make the last one more visible, he listens, leaning back against the wall a bit to shift so he can lift his leg a bit.
The lighting's really unstable at this point, but he's trying his best to hold it still.]
Can you do it like this?
no subject
[Although it might help if...
Delicately, Jean lifts Armin's calf up with his free hand, pinpointing the bug. Holding his breath, he presses down and breaks the skin, dragging the blade down. It looks to be going smoothly–practice made perfect.
But then there are brushes against his skin, hovering momentarily before clamping down. Their claws dig in with a simple gesture and the blade moves down by accident. Jean's eyes go wide and he opens his mouth to apologize only to have two claws dip into it and pull, attempting to tear his mouth. More hands join in, digging into the bare flesh on his torso as well as tearing at his thighs and arms. Clothing rips as Jean struggles but there's no hope–the sheer number of them on him is too much for him to break away from. With surprising speed they pull him against the opposite wall, a new claw curling around his neck in a chokehold.
The blade that has now mangled Armin's leg clatters to the floor while Jean writhes and struggles, trapped.]
no subject
[The pain is blinding at first, shooting up from his leg through the rest of his body, and it falls without the support of Jean's hand. The good news is the scarab was taken care of. The bad news is that it now feels so numb (aside from the vaguely throbbing pain) that he's not sure he can move it.
But that's not important now, as he watches his friend get pulled away and nearly apart by so many arms. No--!
It didn't matter how weak he was. That it wasn't his strong point or that there were people better at him... As long as he had an understanding of what needed to be done, he was going to try his best in a situation like this. Choking out a noise between a sob and a growl, his hands grip firmly around the blade, until blood is drawn from his own palms at the grip.
Only then does he lean forward in the hallway, sliding closer and swinging the blade down in a harsh motion meant to chop those arms right off. He's careful and particular with his swings, at least, determinedly continuing with yells of determination until he's cut them all.]
no subject
When he's gained enough breath to speak, he pushes up to one knee.] Thanks.
[It puts him on equal level with Armin's leg, gashed and gushing.] Sorry about the leg.
[Is there anyway he can run on it? Jean doubts it. Using the wall for support, he stands up, still panting.] We should get out of here.
[Which probably means he has to carry him. Tiredly, he half-stumbles forward and clumsily picks him up.] You pick the way.
[Jeez, his arms hurt too much for this.]
no subject
[He's quick to state this, dropping the blade and staring down at his bloody hand. Everything was bloody by now, between the two of them. He's about halfway through that thought, though, when Jean picks him up. His face tenses up and instinctively one arm wraps around Jean's neck, the other grabbing clumsily at his arm to feel more secure.]
W-wait a second, Jean! [Rationally, he can understand that his leg would be a burden in their running away from creatures. But stubbornly, he doesn't want to cause that sort of problem for the two of them. This way, won't they move even slower?
He shifts, loosening his grip on Jean's arm and lowering it a bit, a small shift in his weight trying to keep himself from leaning on Jean's wounded chest. There are too many problems to even register that his pants are still on the ground, right now.] I can try to walk.
[He says this, but it doesn't sound so confident. Even he realizes this, pausing only briefly before nodding in a direction. One they didn't come from.] We should probably move ahead, but if you see anywhere along the way that's possible for it, we should stop to wrap these wounds and rest. If we keep up like this much longer, it's not likely we'll make it out.
no subject
You keep an eye out. I'm–[He hisses out a curse, darting back just as a hand reaches out for Armin's head. Narrowly dodged. He skips and jumps up his pace.]–I've got my hands full.
no subject
Eventually, he notes a depression in the wall ahead. A doorway or some sort of passage in a different direction? It wasn't the same style as these hallways, at least. One hand moves to point towards it.]
It looks like there's something that way.
no subject
[Ducking under another hand and skirting around a forming mummy, he follows the path Armin had set out for him. The depression isn't far and as he moves closer it becomes clearer–a passage, just big enough for the two of them. Jean slips into it and the monsters don't follow. He breathes a sigh of relief and presses in.
Only to find out that the passage gets narrow. It isn't long before the walls are pressing in and on his old wounds. Jean hisses and grunts in pain as he continues until he can't move anymore.]
Shit.
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It looks like they're not following us anymore. [So Jean shouldn't force himself through that narrow way.] Do you think we can afford to stop?
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[Since he can't move any further. Or move at all. He's stuck, shoulders stiff and screaming as they're unnaturally pressed together.]
We're sitting ducks if they decide to come in.
[Or he is. Armin could probably climb over him and out if he needed to.]
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He frowns, eyes shifting from his bare legs to Jean's face once more.]
You can't move back at all?
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Doesn't look like it.
[He fucked up. Should have noticed it sooner. Should have calmed down. Should have should have should have.] You should get out of here. No use in them getting both of us if they come in.