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"Who ran away?" Jecht demanded, defensive and mock-ignorant. It was a whatchamacallit that Auron does. A strategic retreat."
"Shut up Jecht," Auron croaked, forcing his eyes open. "You're dead, so just - shut up."
Yunalesca had gone, apparently deeming him unworthy of a merciful death. After all, why should he get one when his summoner -
It hurt. Even breathing seemed enough to make his body scream a protest, but it was... Distant. Separate from him. Almost like hearing Jecht sing the Hymn in a far off room. But from what he could feel, from the blood seeping through his clothes, it wouldn't hurt for long.
"Could you bring Yuna here?"
"Take care of my son."
Of course. Even in death. Which meant he couldn't bleed to death on Yunalesca's stone-and-pyreflies floor. He had duties. Obligations to fulfil.
He managed to drag himself to his knees and reach for his sword before the pain exploded in his side, real and immediate and sending his vision black for a few minutes. When he could see - when he could breathe - again, he fumbled for a potion, a harsh bark of laughter escaping him that did nothing to decrease the pain.
"A strategic retreat indeed."
A single pyrefly drifted from him, laughing in Braska's voice.
"Of course it was."
"Hey! We'll get it next time, right?"