[ His neck, shackled, and momentum thrust upon him, diving him into blanch-foamed river water. He goes first, mattress for the boy's dead weight at his back, bundle of Five's bones and edges sharp, and how he stabs with them, unforgivingly. Wangji feels Five in the nest of his ribs, crossing his spine, more than as a clutch on his jugular — and the spumes of turmoiled water break and itch and lash his skin, he beats waters with his legs —
And they slide them down, he thinks east, but the roil deafens him, when he cuts up and his lungs fill with the crisp violence of stolen air, briefly, briefly, before the waters drag him down once more, or Five claims the deed. They are punched on their way, transported like motes of summer dust, until the river cascades into a longer, deeper ravine, and they land into lake's spill. Gravity favours him, unsaddles Five's grip enough that Wangji may twist within it, slips his hand to throw his aggressor into the nearest shield of green-slimed wall enclosure. From underwater, the ripples above write a calligraphy of gasps muted, of hissed, teeth-gritted assault.
His lungs burn forest fire from air withheld, suppressed in the nethers of his chest, one moment, another, just one more, hold steady longer, but he succumbs, inevitably, and breathes in the water, and two things strike him, at once:
...the first, that they can taste air sweet like fresh dates beneath these lake depths.
...the second, that tossing Five about has projected them both into a school of overly indulged, fattened fish that swirls in a seismic fury of bronze and golds, grazing slick-lipped teeth at bared skin. ]
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And they slide them down, he thinks east, but the roil deafens him, when he cuts up and his lungs fill with the crisp violence of stolen air, briefly, briefly, before the waters drag him down once more, or Five claims the deed. They are punched on their way, transported like motes of summer dust, until the river cascades into a longer, deeper ravine, and they land into lake's spill. Gravity favours him, unsaddles Five's grip enough that Wangji may twist within it, slips his hand to throw his aggressor into the nearest shield of green-slimed wall enclosure. From underwater, the ripples above write a calligraphy of gasps muted, of hissed, teeth-gritted assault.
His lungs burn forest fire from air withheld, suppressed in the nethers of his chest, one moment, another, just one more, hold steady longer, but he succumbs, inevitably, and breathes in the water, and two things strike him, at once:
...the first, that they can taste air sweet like fresh dates beneath these lake depths.
...the second, that tossing Five about has projected them both into a school of overly indulged, fattened fish that swirls in a seismic fury of bronze and golds, grazing slick-lipped teeth at bared skin. ]