Lumi moved and then, all at once, everything seemed to happen.
First he sensed an odd Chakra signature, Xigbar's, he thought, and then he heard Marluxia move, caught the burst of magic from his direction and felt the heat of his spell.
In amongst it all, he heard the shot get fired ... from two directions at once. Once from out in the hall and once ...
He growled, his instinct getting the better of him, but the sound was cut off as he registered the sensation of pain. He held his breath, teeth gritted, and realised that, somehow, he'd been hit. A second passed before he pinpointed the source. Xigbar's bullet had caught him just below the left shoulder, at the front.
So that's what Marluxia meant about firing around corners.
He dropped his hand, his left hand, and transferred the gun from his right into that one. Only a fool dropped his weapon in a fight. Not pausing, he moved to grip the wound, looking up to search for evidence of the shooter.
He'd been shot before. He knew that numbness followed the initial burst of pain, that adrenaline took over shortly afterwards. It tried. A curious absence of discomfort spread through the wound-site, but not for long. A searing burn followed on its heels. It was agony like nothing he'd felt before and he dropped, back against the wall, into a crouch, the fingers of his left hand spasming enough that the textured grip of his pistol felt like sandpaper against his skin.
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Date: 2016-05-18 02:57 pm (UTC)First he sensed an odd Chakra signature, Xigbar's, he thought, and then he heard Marluxia move, caught the burst of magic from his direction and felt the heat of his spell.
In amongst it all, he heard the shot get fired ... from two directions at once. Once from out in the hall and once ...
He growled, his instinct getting the better of him, but the sound was cut off as he registered the sensation of pain. He held his breath, teeth gritted, and realised that, somehow, he'd been hit. A second passed before he pinpointed the source. Xigbar's bullet had caught him just below the left shoulder, at the front.
So that's what Marluxia meant about firing around corners.
He dropped his hand, his left hand, and transferred the gun from his right into that one. Only a fool dropped his weapon in a fight. Not pausing, he moved to grip the wound, looking up to search for evidence of the shooter.
He'd been shot before. He knew that numbness followed the initial burst of pain, that adrenaline took over shortly afterwards. It tried. A curious absence of discomfort spread through the wound-site, but not for long. A searing burn followed on its heels. It was agony like nothing he'd felt before and he dropped, back against the wall, into a crouch, the fingers of his left hand spasming enough that the textured grip of his pistol felt like sandpaper against his skin.