[Drowning, a second time, isn't any better than the first. It may even be worse, because now he knows its pain. Cain is aware of standing on the shore — and then he's under again, leashed by a dark and sinuous tentacle, swallowing water out of sheer terror for his fate. Consciousness is slippery, sliding in and out of his grasp like a handful of wet sand.
Something changes, and the next he's aware, there's a strong grip around him and his head has breached the surface. A voice, commanding; textured fingertips against his skin. It should be reassuring. It might have been, if his chest wasn't full of seawater.
Unresponsive, Cain soon passes out, sudden dead weight in the other's arms.]
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Something changes, and the next he's aware, there's a strong grip around him and his head has breached the surface. A voice, commanding; textured fingertips against his skin. It should be reassuring. It might have been, if his chest wasn't full of seawater.
Unresponsive, Cain soon passes out, sudden dead weight in the other's arms.]