He knows he'll die, distantly. In a way that hardly seems to matter. There's too much between him and the reality of the situation to easily shift back to, and so he's nowhere near prepared to block the blow, as he might have done on any other day.
Smack! Locus's head jerks to the side, the sting of it barely felt over everything else, but there's something about the move that jars him. The orders, the violence, there's familiarity in it. He can hold onto instinct if nothing else, and instinct says --
Follow orders. Survive.
Even if the man in front of him seems more like the horrors of this place than any Legionnaire, he has his attention. After a moment he nods, and moves to follow.
no subject
He knows he'll die, distantly. In a way that hardly seems to matter. There's too much between him and the reality of the situation to easily shift back to, and so he's nowhere near prepared to block the blow, as he might have done on any other day.
Smack! Locus's head jerks to the side, the sting of it barely felt over everything else, but there's something about the move that jars him. The orders, the violence, there's familiarity in it. He can hold onto instinct if nothing else, and instinct says --
Follow orders. Survive.
Even if the man in front of him seems more like the horrors of this place than any Legionnaire, he has his attention. After a moment he nods, and moves to follow.
Process later, when there's time.