[ It's to keep her from screaming as she's moved. As soon as that's no longer a palpable threat, Aranea leaves off, hand slipping back out of her mouth. There's no blood drawn, but the clear little indents of teeth digging into soft skin - both behind the thumb, and below it. It's unlikely she could have broken the skin anyway, with her limited strength slowly ebbing, with her lower body feeling slowly colder.
Grabbing Noctis still isn't ideal. She runs the risk of touching skin, fumbling in her hazy-minded agony, and would he be able to keep moving if he was feeling what she feels? Not just the physical torment, but every untidy emotion that accompanies it.
Deciding for him - assuming she knows best, and he's being nobly incorrect - is absolutely doing Noctis a disservice. Needless to say, Aranea isn't thinking that hard. ]
Just - keep moving.
[ Gods, she wishes she weren't with him. She wishes Biggs were here, or Wedge. Either of them would be efficient in their task, quick, smart enough to keep their concern to themselves.
That little thought doesn't stick. As a UNA soldier crosses their path, Aranea is reaching for Noctis's gun. ]
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Grabbing Noctis still isn't ideal. She runs the risk of touching skin, fumbling in her hazy-minded agony, and would he be able to keep moving if he was feeling what she feels? Not just the physical torment, but every untidy emotion that accompanies it.
Deciding for him - assuming she knows best, and he's being nobly incorrect - is absolutely doing Noctis a disservice. Needless to say, Aranea isn't thinking that hard. ]
Just - keep moving.
[ Gods, she wishes she weren't with him. She wishes Biggs were here, or Wedge. Either of them would be efficient in their task, quick, smart enough to keep their concern to themselves.
That little thought doesn't stick. As a UNA soldier crosses their path, Aranea is reaching for Noctis's gun. ]