[The wake of his bright, seething rage is cold and dark. Laurent hurls foul words at him, and this time they come in defense, allowing him to see through that veneer of animosity — that he is fighting for his life and he will not allow himself to be saved by his assailant. More, the weaknesses Laurent gouges at with teeth and nail are hollow, sewn by the finality of Naruto's missing chakra signature.]
I can't. I made a promise. [Even as the world grows grim and bleak, as Oblivium encroaches upon him, he won't take his own life. If he succumbs in the end, it won't be because he did it to himself. It will be at the undoing of something else, the workings of this place and its illnesses, curses, and Shadows.] I don't hope for anything. I never did. Naruto makes his own decisions. If I try to kill him again, he will stop me. But it doesn't matter anymore in this world. He's gone from it.
[It has begun to snow again, falling white flakes too gentle for this scene, for the blood Laurent spits in those wheezing coughs. This almost confirms to him that the illness is agitated by sentiment — because the ache in his chest is real, and worse than before, nearly suffocating when he remembers Naruto is gone. It's possible he'll never see him again.
Sasuke goes to his knees in the snow immediately at that collapse, uncaring of the bite of cold through his clothes, and he reaches first for his abandoned sword to sheathe the blade. Then, against that warning, he scoops Laurent off the ground with one arm, draping that slight weight over his right shoulder, strength imbued through chakra allowing him to stand without effort, Laurent's blond hair sweeping down his back.]
... I'm sorry. [Uncle sticks ominously in his mind, territory he should not broach like this, here and now.] I've taken enough lives. I don't want yours to be one of them.
he comes with a blanket disclaimer
I can't. I made a promise. [Even as the world grows grim and bleak, as Oblivium encroaches upon him, he won't take his own life. If he succumbs in the end, it won't be because he did it to himself. It will be at the undoing of something else, the workings of this place and its illnesses, curses, and Shadows.] I don't hope for anything. I never did. Naruto makes his own decisions. If I try to kill him again, he will stop me. But it doesn't matter anymore in this world. He's gone from it.
[It has begun to snow again, falling white flakes too gentle for this scene, for the blood Laurent spits in those wheezing coughs. This almost confirms to him that the illness is agitated by sentiment — because the ache in his chest is real, and worse than before, nearly suffocating when he remembers Naruto is gone. It's possible he'll never see him again.
Sasuke goes to his knees in the snow immediately at that collapse, uncaring of the bite of cold through his clothes, and he reaches first for his abandoned sword to sheathe the blade. Then, against that warning, he scoops Laurent off the ground with one arm, draping that slight weight over his right shoulder, strength imbued through chakra allowing him to stand without effort, Laurent's blond hair sweeping down his back.]
... I'm sorry. [Uncle sticks ominously in his mind, territory he should not broach like this, here and now.] I've taken enough lives. I don't want yours to be one of them.