[ whatever creak of floorboard or breath it is that heine hears, he turns his head just slightly to see if he can catch sight of it—but it's just a ghost vanishing into one of the dorm rooms, its attention totally elsewhere than heine.
when he looks back down the hall toward where daan had been standing, there's nothing there. nothing but more ghosts, coalescing into some kind of writhing mass of darkness, twisted limbs, eyes like coals in the hollow sockets of their many eyes.
heine is so tired of ghosts, he thinks.
it's the idea that daan might be somewhere in that mess of bodies and limbs that spurts heine forward, using all his strength to close the distance. he launches himself over a chair and flings himself into the ghosts (into daan—he just doesn't know that yet), his fingers curling into claws in an attempt to hook onto whatever he can reach. ]
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when he looks back down the hall toward where daan had been standing, there's nothing there. nothing but more ghosts, coalescing into some kind of writhing mass of darkness, twisted limbs, eyes like coals in the hollow sockets of their many eyes.
heine is so tired of ghosts, he thinks.
it's the idea that daan might be somewhere in that mess of bodies and limbs that spurts heine forward, using all his strength to close the distance. he launches himself over a chair and flings himself into the ghosts (into daan—he just doesn't know that yet), his fingers curling into claws in an attempt to hook onto whatever he can reach. ]