[He says that so pointedly it's clear that he's bothered that Jean would want to leave, but he leaves it at that and keeps walking once Jean has slid down to meet him. As for the building comment... He hesitates, and then nods without a glance back.]
That's fine. It may be too dangerous if both of us try to enter.
[It may be dangerous if they set foot off the dune but Jean doesn't mention that. Doesn't feel he needs to when it's Armin he's talking to. Still, the pointed comment is heard and frowned at on his end, setting off after Armin.]
I'm more concerned about the lack of food.
[There's no telling at this point if there will be any, nevermind the availability of water. It seems reckless, heading off without considering any of it and if he were with anyone else he would voice that. But Armin has a tendency to think ahead. A mysterious ability to consider all the options. Jean trusts him.]
[And thinking ahead is something he's definitely doing now. Granted, his ideas were always so wild and out of the box that he was never quite sure if they'd pull through just like he'd hoped they would, but... His friends believed in him. Wasn't that enough?
Even planning ahead... this was reckless.
He doesn't comment on the lack of food (because it's a worry and a bet he's already got in his mind), but the sun comment does earn a frown. He raises a hand to shield his eyes from it as he looks up. He can't tell where the light of this 'sun' is even coming from, but there's no way it's coming from that hole before. It wouldn't be this blindingly bright.]
It's almost like it's coming from every direction at once. [While saying this, he uses his free hand to dig into a pocket, pulling out the pocket watch and glancing down at the screen as he rifles through recent posts. Maybe there's something about this place here...]
[Jean continues on behind him, blades out and curiously prodding random dunes as they pass. Watching how the blades leave trails in the sand.]
I guess a lot of impossible stuff happens here.
[It's unclear if Jean is talking to himself or trying to converse with Armin. Either way, he's not looking in Armin's direction, moving on from the dunes to the pyramids, squinting at them from afar.]
[This exchange of half-thinking aloud and half-talking to each other continues one for some time. So much sand and yet nothing eventful... Aside from a gaping hole in the ground that lead them here to begin with. It didn't make any sense, and with hardly any clues on the network to go off of, Armin was trying to puzzle it out himself.
What were these strange buildings? They seemed to be some sort of focus point at the center of it all, and so they'd likely hold more than the sand surrounding them, but...
One pyramid is right before them, now, and Armin stops to press a hand against the side and glance up it curiously. What could they be for? In the middle of nowhere, but so extravagant...--
It's right in the middle of his thought process that he catches the sight of sand tumbling slowly down the slope of the pyramid. Nothing too much at first, but after having it be so quiet for so long, he's stepping back defensively quickly enough. The bigger shaking of the ground comes next, as muffled as it is by the soft sand beneath them, and in a few spots peppered around the area, arms claw out of the sand and grab for anything near them, ankles included.]
Jean! [Immediately Armin is worried and moves to alert his friend of the hands clawing their way out followed by bodies from the looks of it, but his first step outwards is interrupted too soon. A bandaged arm wraps around his neck from behind (when did it get there?!) and he finds himself being pulled backwards harshly.
His hands reach towards his own neck to try and rip away the arm and struggle free, but it doesn't seem to help much. What he does pick up on is that he's being pulled back into the pyramid.]
[It takes Jean a minute. Back turned and examining another ruined wall, he doesn't catch the motion before it wraps around his friend, only turning around once his name is called. After that, he starts forward, face panicked and blades out. Hands grab at his feet and trip him up but they're easy enough to cut through; he can't stop. Not before he saves Armin.
Yet the faster he runs the less it seems to matter–the monster's already gotten a headstart. There's no way to catch up with it before it drags Armin inside. All he can hope for is to slip in before the door closes–something that seems less likely as Armin descends into the pyramid and a stone slab threatens to slam down.
Jean cuts himself free from another hand, speeds up and slides in just in time. The stone slams to the ground behind his head, trimming a few loose hairs. Jean scrambles to his feet, staring into the darkness of the pyramid with a growing sense of dread.]
[Armin's pulled back further, the arm squeezing so tight it threatens to steal his breath right out from him. The light gets shut out by the closing of the door, but he hears Jean's voice call out clearly.
One of his hands shifts downwards to grab at one of his swords, bringing it out and forward before stabbing it back behind him. It's enough to puncture the stomach of whatever was holding him captive, but he still spins a bit roughly out of the way, back smacking into a wall with a grunt.]
I'm over this way! [The most important thing right now was to make himself known. Make sure Jean knew he was alive and which way he was-- but before he can add any more, he's dodging claws with a duck and stumbling out of the way of the mummy with a tense expression. His free hand pulls out a sword as well.
[Jean dashes forward only to be pulled back by hands that erupt from the darkness to grab him. One grabs his cloak, the other his shirt, another his gear and he fights against them all. The hand on the gear he manages to knock away but the claw on his chest pierces through his shirt and scrapes at his chest, breaking the skin. The other on his cloak tightens its hold, and it's all he can do to raise his blade and cut the fabric it's holding away.
The instant release makes him stumble forward, which tears the piercing hand off too but not without sacrifices. His shirt is torn, his chest might be bleeding and he has to pause in his escape to cough and catch his breath.]
[In Armin's section of the hall, two more mummies have shown up to join the first. It's not even just that; he's finding that with each slash and stab he gives to the first it's doing little in result. With a determined yell, he swings enough to chop off an arm, and it hits the ground-- but the mummy keeps moving without even a reaction.
He hears Jean and tries to cast a glance his way, but he's right. It's too dark to make out anything. But that coughing isn't a good sign... Damn it.]
Hang on! [He could figure something out. No, he had to figure something out. He stumbles back further in the darkness along the hallway, dodging rusty swords. But there had to be more, here. He could only make out shadows and shapes. If he could just get a brief flash to take in their surroundings... Maybe it could help Jean, too?
Shifting his swords away to free his hands, he grabs for his flare gun and packs in any color as fast as he can manage. With a point angled high and down the hall, he fires.
The friction and force of the shot lights up Armin's immediate surroundings in a brief flash, showing the elaborate walls and unlit torches along them as well as the three mummies (one missing an arm) stumbling after him. The trail of green smoke comes after, doing little to help with anything. It was just the brief flash, and then it was gone.
But for Armin, it was enough to spot those torches and turn and grab for one of them. Light, light, come on...]
[It's enough for Jean. Pulling away from another clawing hand, he charges down the hall. The torches are in the middle and if Armin goes for that then that leaves him with taking care of the monsters chasing after him. He barrels into them–a human blockade.]
Light it, Armin! I'll take care of these freaks!
[Maybe. Again, they claw at him, one getting lucky and dragging fingers through his already opened chest wound. He barks in pain, then punches behind him. It hurts more than it should–there's no skin on his enemies to soften his blow. Only bone. Jean uses his swords for the rest, slicing one and hacking the other, occasionally glancing behind him to make sure Armin is still alright.]
[Damn it. He could hear Jean getting hurt. Rushing in like that to buy him some time... Because he was too weak. Wasn't that it? But he couldn't focus on that. He had to focus on what he could do. And there were torches already made for lighting.
It took just a few strikes to light a flame, and the hall lit up with light around Armin. He doesn't hesitate to grab a second and light it with the existing flame and rush forward, calling out to his friend.]
Jean, pull back! [He'll see why soon enough, as Armin shoves one of the torches at the bandages of a foe, watching the old, dusty cloth burst into flames with ease. The fire spreads all too quickly, as well, and soon enough there isn't so much of a light problem so much as a screaming enemy problem.]
Whoa! [Even with the warning, the flames cut a bit close. He trips back, catching himself on the wall as the monsters screech and collapse under the flames.
Jean waits until they're dead before glancing at Armin, taking advantage of their moment of peace.]
You're a pretty frightening guy when you're useful.
[There's a pull of a smile as he speaks, pushing off the wall and giving him a hard pat on the back. Grabs a torch of his own and lights it from Armin's.]
[Jean brings his own torch to the door to better examine it, touching the stone. It's too smooth for a good handhold. Crouching down, he tries to scoot his fingers underneath. No-go. Sighing, he looks back up to Armin.]
[Either way, that would be ideal. But he's still focused on these images. Old paintings of some sort that resembled the creatures they'd faced so far... He steps over the ashes and bones of their previously defeated foes to continue along the trail of art.
It looked like there were things that they hadn't run across yet. Some kind of small creature attacking groups of men? That doesn't bode well.
He turns back to Jean, stepping closer to examine the tears of his clothing and the skin beneath it.]
I have some bandages on me. Here... [An implied 'hold on while I get them' as he passes off his torch for Jean to hold and starts rifling around in his things.]
[Jean holds up a hand to refuse it.] Forget it. It doesn't hurt enough. I'll patch it up when we get out of here.
[Standing and raising his torch, he brushes past Armin to squint at the drawings. While some of the monsters are recognizable, most of them he just brushes off. Some things are just too ludicrous to exist. He turns down the hallway, shining his light far enough to see.]
Let's stop wasting time and get to finding the way out of here. Come on.
[SETTING OFF DOWN DARK CORRIDORS ALONE IS ALWAYS A GOOD IDEA.]
Wait, we shouldn't rush ahead like that! From what's shown on the walls...
[He's quickly stepping to follow after Jean, though, waving his torch to view the drawings that continue along this hall. Men dying in various ways, tales that involve sacrifice...] There could be more to worry about.
[More than what they've already solved with fire, he means.
Ah, but his timing really is the worst with these sort of realizations, and just shortly after mentioning this, his torch waves around to find not any more drawings on the wall, but a thick crack, with a few large bugs crawling hurriedly out of it. The minute they spot the light, they move towards it with startling speed, and Armin stumbles back in surprise when they begin trying to crawl up him as well.]
Whoa--! [It might seem like a harmless case of fear of bugs at first, but the second one lucky scarab makes it to his leg, it burrows viciously through his pants and then the skin beneath it, drawing out a more pained, startled yell as he stumbles back into the wall behind him.]
[The yell doubles him back, dashing down the hall as fast as he can and skidding to a halt. A quick glance is all he needs to get a handle on the situation, stomping a few bugs underfoot before grabbing Armin's arm and stepping in front of him.]
These monsters hate fire, right?
[It's an actual question that he doesn't have time to answer. The bugs are approaching too quickly. Jean waves the torch low hoping to either scare them off or burn them. Neither happens.
Attracted to the light and flesh, the scarabs skitter closer, one crawling up Jean's skin before he quickly squashes it.]
Shit! It's not working! Run. Run!
[Pushing Armin back and still (futilely) trying to distract the scarabs away from him.]
[He's quick to start squashing them as well, but he can feel that a few have made their way under his skin. And then Jean's suggestion makes the best sense. They need to get away from these coming out of the cracks and find a quiet spot before they can deal with anything else.
Biting back another pained noise, he stumbles to recover from the push Jean gave him in help and reaches back to grab at whatever cloth he can get a hold on from Jean's shirt. (What remained of his shirt, at least.)]
Hurry! If we can find a corner to turn it might hide the light enough!
[Hard as he tries to keep them at bay, some of the scarabs crawl up his legs, seeking out his partially bare chest. Swatting them off best he can, he gives in to Armin's tug, turning on his heel and sprinting after him.]
Keep an eye out for–[One of the scarabs reaches his wound and takes the opening gratefully, tucking into it. Jean's warning is interrupted by a pained shout. His running slows, to a trot, one hand going to claw and grip at where the bug slipped in.]
Armin...
[He drifts off mid-request. What was he going to do? Ask him to stop? Biting his lip to distract himself from the pain of the bug burrowing, he picks up after him once again.]
[He can hear Jean's voice falter in the way his name is called there, but he's too focused ahead of them, determinedly staring down the hall. They're faster than the scarabs, which helps a lot, but at this rate they'd tire out and get overrun, and the ones already beneath his skin were moving all too slowly with his muscles moving like this. It was excruciating.
Thinking quickly, he grips his torch tight and raises it before chucking it far down the hall. It goes a good distance before hitting the ground and rolling, flames flickering all the while. Grabbing at Jean once more-- this time more solidly at his arm rather than clothing-- he tugs him harshly around the next corner, holding his breath and using his hands to keep Jean in place as he watched the rest of the scarabs scurry blindly past them and towards the light source.
Sight likely wasn't their best feature.
It's one minor relief in the span of things, at least, but just as soon as it comes, the three to four scarabs are taking in their new-found freedom of movement and crawling up Armin's body from the inside. Yelling out a bit from it, he stumbles in place, grabbing and patting at himself to try and stop them in place.]
[They can't get a moment's rest. Jean tries to thank Armin (again) but the blatant display of pain distracts him. Reversing their grips, he pulls him closer and the torch high, putting them both underneath a clear light. It's easy to see the lumps in the skin this way.]
Shit. They got all over you.
[Testing, he runs his fingers over one of them, seeing if it'll move. No dice. There's a chance they could squash them but it'd be a stupid move. It's like a poison–they need to get it out.
Forcing the torch into Armin's palm, he nods to the floor, sheathing one blade.] Sit down.
[Carefully, he takes the blade in his hands and snaps it over his knee. There's a few casualties–his pants tear and blood wells in fresh cuts–but they're shallow and can be dealt with later. For now, he takes the shorter blade and forces Armin's hand above their heads.]
We're gonna have to cut them out. [Meeting his eyes as he says that in a quiet question: "Are you okay with that?"]
[His pain tolerance had never been high, and so the sensation of these scarabs burrowing up through his skin and clawing at anything they could was a little too much. He clutches the torch tightly, but his arm is shaking a bit no matter how hard he worked to keep himself still. There was one on his upper thigh by now, another on the calf of his other leg, and one making its way up past his hip bone.
His eyes meet Jean's. It's hard not to feel fear or pain, but he's just as determined, as well.]
Just make sure to do it quickly; they keep moving around.
[It's just when he speaks, though, that the movement on Jean's chest catches his attention, and his eyes flick over immediately.]
Wait, Jean, that one in your chest--! [What are you doing, take care of that one first!]
[Jean tries not to think too much about the positioning of the bugs. He starts at the hipbone, using one hand to stretch the skin as he delicately slices the skin. It doesn't go smoothly. The bug inside his chest crawls over and through muscles at an excruciating pace. As a result, the straight line gets caught and strays.]
Sorry.
[Muttered distractedly as the fresh cut opens and reveals the bug below. Jean stabs it quickly, removing it while tearing off an already torn section of his shirt.] This'll probably hurt.
[But he needs to stop the bleeding somehow, pressing the fabric against it while his fingers ghost over the scarab on his thigh.] We'll get it after–[A wince. The scarab moves higher.] after yours are out. Take off your pants.
[That cut gets a flinch and a gasp of pain out of Armin, but he does his best to sit still afterwards, eyes still fixed on Jean's chest. The more Jean goes on, the more he's processing old things through his mind, remembering the pictures from earlier. Bugs crawling into men and the men grabbing at their heads and falling to their knees.
Finally, the words to treat his lesser emergencies as greater than Jean's major one gets him to snap. His free hand lurches forward to grab at Jean's wrist, stopping the blade in place and looking him firmly in the eyes.]
Jean! Yours is way too close to its target. If it gets past your neck there's no saying I'll be able to cut it out without more injury than necessary! [His grip tightens just slightly as his own scarabs burrow up further.] This isn't the time to be putting others above yourself!
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[He says that so pointedly it's clear that he's bothered that Jean would want to leave, but he leaves it at that and keeps walking once Jean has slid down to meet him. As for the building comment... He hesitates, and then nods without a glance back.]
That's fine. It may be too dangerous if both of us try to enter.
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I'm more concerned about the lack of food.
[There's no telling at this point if there will be any, nevermind the availability of water. It seems reckless, heading off without considering any of it and if he were with anyone else he would voice that. But Armin has a tendency to think ahead. A mysterious ability to consider all the options. Jean trusts him.]
That sun is freaking me out.
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Even planning ahead... this was reckless.
He doesn't comment on the lack of food (because it's a worry and a bet he's already got in his mind), but the sun comment does earn a frown. He raises a hand to shield his eyes from it as he looks up. He can't tell where the light of this 'sun' is even coming from, but there's no way it's coming from that hole before. It wouldn't be this blindingly bright.]
It's almost like it's coming from every direction at once. [While saying this, he uses his free hand to dig into a pocket, pulling out the pocket watch and glancing down at the screen as he rifles through recent posts. Maybe there's something about this place here...]
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[Jean continues on behind him, blades out and curiously prodding random dunes as they pass. Watching how the blades leave trails in the sand.]
I guess a lot of impossible stuff happens here.
[It's unclear if Jean is talking to himself or trying to converse with Armin. Either way, he's not looking in Armin's direction, moving on from the dunes to the pyramids, squinting at them from afar.]
drama and actions it up sorry not sorry
What were these strange buildings? They seemed to be some sort of focus point at the center of it all, and so they'd likely hold more than the sand surrounding them, but...
One pyramid is right before them, now, and Armin stops to press a hand against the side and glance up it curiously. What could they be for? In the middle of nowhere, but so extravagant...--
It's right in the middle of his thought process that he catches the sight of sand tumbling slowly down the slope of the pyramid. Nothing too much at first, but after having it be so quiet for so long, he's stepping back defensively quickly enough. The bigger shaking of the ground comes next, as muffled as it is by the soft sand beneath them, and in a few spots peppered around the area, arms claw out of the sand and grab for anything near them, ankles included.]
Jean! [Immediately Armin is worried and moves to alert his friend of the hands clawing their way out followed by bodies from the looks of it, but his first step outwards is interrupted too soon. A bandaged arm wraps around his neck from behind (when did it get there?!) and he finds himself being pulled backwards harshly.
His hands reach towards his own neck to try and rip away the arm and struggle free, but it doesn't seem to help much. What he does pick up on is that he's being pulled back into the pyramid.]
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[It takes Jean a minute. Back turned and examining another ruined wall, he doesn't catch the motion before it wraps around his friend, only turning around once his name is called. After that, he starts forward, face panicked and blades out. Hands grab at his feet and trip him up but they're easy enough to cut through; he can't stop. Not before he saves Armin.
Yet the faster he runs the less it seems to matter–the monster's already gotten a headstart. There's no way to catch up with it before it drags Armin inside. All he can hope for is to slip in before the door closes–something that seems less likely as Armin descends into the pyramid and a stone slab threatens to slam down.
Jean cuts himself free from another hand, speeds up and slides in just in time. The stone slams to the ground behind his head, trimming a few loose hairs. Jean scrambles to his feet, staring into the darkness of the pyramid with a growing sense of dread.]
Armin?!
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One of his hands shifts downwards to grab at one of his swords, bringing it out and forward before stabbing it back behind him. It's enough to puncture the stomach of whatever was holding him captive, but he still spins a bit roughly out of the way, back smacking into a wall with a grunt.]
I'm over this way! [The most important thing right now was to make himself known. Make sure Jean knew he was alive and which way he was-- but before he can add any more, he's dodging claws with a duck and stumbling out of the way of the mummy with a tense expression. His free hand pulls out a sword as well.
Were these.. human?]
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[Jean dashes forward only to be pulled back by hands that erupt from the darkness to grab him. One grabs his cloak, the other his shirt, another his gear and he fights against them all. The hand on the gear he manages to knock away but the claw on his chest pierces through his shirt and scrapes at his chest, breaking the skin. The other on his cloak tightens its hold, and it's all he can do to raise his blade and cut the fabric it's holding away.
The instant release makes him stumble forward, which tears the piercing hand off too but not without sacrifices. His shirt is torn, his chest might be bleeding and he has to pause in his escape to cough and catch his breath.]
We-[Another cough.]–we need some light!
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He hears Jean and tries to cast a glance his way, but he's right. It's too dark to make out anything. But that coughing isn't a good sign... Damn it.]
Hang on! [He could figure something out. No, he had to figure something out. He stumbles back further in the darkness along the hallway, dodging rusty swords. But there had to be more, here. He could only make out shadows and shapes. If he could just get a brief flash to take in their surroundings... Maybe it could help Jean, too?
Shifting his swords away to free his hands, he grabs for his flare gun and packs in any color as fast as he can manage. With a point angled high and down the hall, he fires.
The friction and force of the shot lights up Armin's immediate surroundings in a brief flash, showing the elaborate walls and unlit torches along them as well as the three mummies (one missing an arm) stumbling after him. The trail of green smoke comes after, doing little to help with anything. It was just the brief flash, and then it was gone.
But for Armin, it was enough to spot those torches and turn and grab for one of them. Light, light, come on...]
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Light it, Armin! I'll take care of these freaks!
[Maybe. Again, they claw at him, one getting lucky and dragging fingers through his already opened chest wound. He barks in pain, then punches behind him. It hurts more than it should–there's no skin on his enemies to soften his blow. Only bone. Jean uses his swords for the rest, slicing one and hacking the other, occasionally glancing behind him to make sure Armin is still alright.]
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It took just a few strikes to light a flame, and the hall lit up with light around Armin. He doesn't hesitate to grab a second and light it with the existing flame and rush forward, calling out to his friend.]
Jean, pull back! [He'll see why soon enough, as Armin shoves one of the torches at the bandages of a foe, watching the old, dusty cloth burst into flames with ease. The fire spreads all too quickly, as well, and soon enough there isn't so much of a light problem so much as a screaming enemy problem.]
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Jean waits until they're dead before glancing at Armin, taking advantage of their moment of peace.]
You're a pretty frightening guy when you're useful.
[There's a pull of a smile as he speaks, pushing off the wall and giving him a hard pat on the back. Grabs a torch of his own and lights it from Armin's.]
Good thinking. Now we know what'll hurt them.
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Thanks... [He thinks. Probably. Guiding his own torch forward, he takes a few steps towards the wall, eyeing the strange markings along them.]
That door was pretty heavy. Can we even open it? [He's guessing no. But it's not like his trying will help any SOOOO...]
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Maybe we could find something to prop it open.
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[Either way, that would be ideal. But he's still focused on these images. Old paintings of some sort that resembled the creatures they'd faced so far... He steps over the ashes and bones of their previously defeated foes to continue along the trail of art.
It looked like there were things that they hadn't run across yet. Some kind of small creature attacking groups of men? That doesn't bode well.
He turns back to Jean, stepping closer to examine the tears of his clothing and the skin beneath it.]
I have some bandages on me. Here... [An implied 'hold on while I get them' as he passes off his torch for Jean to hold and starts rifling around in his things.]
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[Standing and raising his torch, he brushes past Armin to squint at the drawings. While some of the monsters are recognizable, most of them he just brushes off. Some things are just too ludicrous to exist. He turns down the hallway, shining his light far enough to see.]
Let's stop wasting time and get to finding the way out of here. Come on.
[SETTING OFF DOWN DARK CORRIDORS ALONE IS ALWAYS A GOOD IDEA.]
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[He's quickly stepping to follow after Jean, though, waving his torch to view the drawings that continue along this hall. Men dying in various ways, tales that involve sacrifice...] There could be more to worry about.
[More than what they've already solved with fire, he means.
Ah, but his timing really is the worst with these sort of realizations, and just shortly after mentioning this, his torch waves around to find not any more drawings on the wall, but a thick crack, with a few large bugs crawling hurriedly out of it. The minute they spot the light, they move towards it with startling speed, and Armin stumbles back in surprise when they begin trying to crawl up him as well.]
Whoa--! [It might seem like a harmless case of fear of bugs at first, but the second one lucky scarab makes it to his leg, it burrows viciously through his pants and then the skin beneath it, drawing out a more pained, startled yell as he stumbles back into the wall behind him.]
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[The yell doubles him back, dashing down the hall as fast as he can and skidding to a halt. A quick glance is all he needs to get a handle on the situation, stomping a few bugs underfoot before grabbing Armin's arm and stepping in front of him.]
These monsters hate fire, right?
[It's an actual question that he doesn't have time to answer. The bugs are approaching too quickly. Jean waves the torch low hoping to either scare them off or burn them. Neither happens.
Attracted to the light and flesh, the scarabs skitter closer, one crawling up Jean's skin before he quickly squashes it.]
Shit! It's not working! Run. Run!
[Pushing Armin back and still (futilely) trying to distract the scarabs away from him.]
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Biting back another pained noise, he stumbles to recover from the push Jean gave him in help and reaches back to grab at whatever cloth he can get a hold on from Jean's shirt. (What remained of his shirt, at least.)]
Hurry! If we can find a corner to turn it might hide the light enough!
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Keep an eye out for–[One of the scarabs reaches his wound and takes the opening gratefully, tucking into it. Jean's warning is interrupted by a pained shout. His running slows, to a trot, one hand going to claw and grip at where the bug slipped in.]
Armin...
[He drifts off mid-request. What was he going to do? Ask him to stop? Biting his lip to distract himself from the pain of the bug burrowing, he picks up after him once again.]
Have you found anything yet?
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Thinking quickly, he grips his torch tight and raises it before chucking it far down the hall. It goes a good distance before hitting the ground and rolling, flames flickering all the while. Grabbing at Jean once more-- this time more solidly at his arm rather than clothing-- he tugs him harshly around the next corner, holding his breath and using his hands to keep Jean in place as he watched the rest of the scarabs scurry blindly past them and towards the light source.
Sight likely wasn't their best feature.
It's one minor relief in the span of things, at least, but just as soon as it comes, the three to four scarabs are taking in their new-found freedom of movement and crawling up Armin's body from the inside. Yelling out a bit from it, he stumbles in place, grabbing and patting at himself to try and stop them in place.]
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Shit. They got all over you.
[Testing, he runs his fingers over one of them, seeing if it'll move. No dice. There's a chance they could squash them but it'd be a stupid move. It's like a poison–they need to get it out.
Forcing the torch into Armin's palm, he nods to the floor, sheathing one blade.] Sit down.
[Carefully, he takes the blade in his hands and snaps it over his knee. There's a few casualties–his pants tear and blood wells in fresh cuts–but they're shallow and can be dealt with later. For now, he takes the shorter blade and forces Armin's hand above their heads.]
We're gonna have to cut them out. [Meeting his eyes as he says that in a quiet question: "Are you okay with that?"]
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His eyes meet Jean's. It's hard not to feel fear or pain, but he's just as determined, as well.]
Just make sure to do it quickly; they keep moving around.
[It's just when he speaks, though, that the movement on Jean's chest catches his attention, and his eyes flick over immediately.]
Wait, Jean, that one in your chest--! [What are you doing, take care of that one first!]
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Sorry.
[Muttered distractedly as the fresh cut opens and reveals the bug below. Jean stabs it quickly, removing it while tearing off an already torn section of his shirt.] This'll probably hurt.
[But he needs to stop the bleeding somehow, pressing the fabric against it while his fingers ghost over the scarab on his thigh.] We'll get it after–[A wince. The scarab moves higher.] after yours are out. Take off your pants.
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Finally, the words to treat his lesser emergencies as greater than Jean's major one gets him to snap. His free hand lurches forward to grab at Jean's wrist, stopping the blade in place and looking him firmly in the eyes.]
Jean! Yours is way too close to its target. If it gets past your neck there's no saying I'll be able to cut it out without more injury than necessary! [His grip tightens just slightly as his own scarabs burrow up further.] This isn't the time to be putting others above yourself!
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