[Wounds. Several, though they're really only visible for the remarkable amount of blood seeping through his wifebeater in certain areas. The shirt itself isn't torn. Actually, if not for the blood, it would be pristine. (Kavinsky likes his things shiny and new, glinting like the gold chain around his neck.)
He's turning a shade of white that's as pale as his clothes. His heart keeps thud-thud-thudding, a vein at his throat visibly pulsing with fear, but he's otherwise totally still.
Inside - or outside, rather, as he feels like he exists somewhere outside that bleeding shell at the moment - Kavinsky is certain he's dying. He just doesn't understand how. It's like he's awoken from a bad dream only to find himself in a worst dream. Without the ability to move, not even to open his eyes, he assumes his spine must be broken or maybe he's lying here with his brains splattered across the ground and he just doesn't know it yet. The stinging pain across his chest, however, suggests that's the only place he's actually injured. Is he in shock, then?]
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He's turning a shade of white that's as pale as his clothes. His heart keeps thud-thud-thudding, a vein at his throat visibly pulsing with fear, but he's otherwise totally still.
Inside - or outside, rather, as he feels like he exists somewhere outside that bleeding shell at the moment - Kavinsky is certain he's dying. He just doesn't understand how. It's like he's awoken from a bad dream only to find himself in a worst dream. Without the ability to move, not even to open his eyes, he assumes his spine must be broken or maybe he's lying here with his brains splattered across the ground and he just doesn't know it yet. The stinging pain across his chest, however, suggests that's the only place he's actually injured. Is he in shock, then?]