[Sesa waits with bated breath, hoping...praying to any of the gods that might deign to listen, that he hasn't arrived on the scene a moment too late. He listens as hard as he can for even the faintest flutter of a heartbeat...but nothing ever comes. His chest is silent, and his body is growing swiftly, terribly cold. He sees the strangeness of the missing camouflage, his tentacles no longer the dark black he's used to seeing them. And honestly? He would probably still be clinging to some hope, if it weren't for the gentle stream of moon magic he's able to sense, which is a truly terrible thing for someone like him who never had an affinity for arts to begin with. That the one time he's able to sense a magic like this, it's to herald the death of his best friend.
It's the worst thing he could have ever imagined.
Sesa feels his body quake uncontrollably as he rises to his feet, still holding Mizuki in his arms. He holds him close, Mizuki's face near to his own, as if he might be able to feel his breath on the off chance that maybe he's wrong. But even as he looks down at him, still and looking as if merely asleep, his vision of the little Seaborn swiftly blurs as his eyes glass over with tears, a heavy sob caught painfully in his chest. He blinks them away hard, and when he sees that they've landed across Mizuki's cheeks, he'll quickly reach up one shaking hand to brush them away. Brush his hair off of his forehead, his claws shaking so violently that he has to quickly clench them into a fist so he doesn't accidentally scratch him.
Then, when the Vouivre turns to make for the clinic, people will hear him long before he ever arrives. Crying, screaming, incoherent begging for help as he runs as hard and as fast as he can back towards the clinic, cutting through anyone and anything that might be standing in his way.
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It's the worst thing he could have ever imagined.
Sesa feels his body quake uncontrollably as he rises to his feet, still holding Mizuki in his arms. He holds him close, Mizuki's face near to his own, as if he might be able to feel his breath on the off chance that maybe he's wrong. But even as he looks down at him, still and looking as if merely asleep, his vision of the little Seaborn swiftly blurs as his eyes glass over with tears, a heavy sob caught painfully in his chest. He blinks them away hard, and when he sees that they've landed across Mizuki's cheeks, he'll quickly reach up one shaking hand to brush them away. Brush his hair off of his forehead, his claws shaking so violently that he has to quickly clench them into a fist so he doesn't accidentally scratch him.
Then, when the Vouivre turns to make for the clinic, people will hear him long before he ever arrives. Crying, screaming, incoherent begging for help as he runs as hard and as fast as he can back towards the clinic, cutting through anyone and anything that might be standing in his way.
Someone, anyone.
Help.]