It's not panic that freezes Yuri in that moment, but it's the closest word for the feeling he's got. He teeters on the edge, caught between attack! and flee! and the only thing that keeps Asch from getting a fist to the face is that he finally settles on the middle ground of getting everyone the fuck away from him - he shoves Asch a little as he scrambles back, but it's without malice or even intent, really - and once he's got a little more personal space to breathe in once more, the urge to call on his sword and start swinging has lessened. A little.
It's not Asch's fault he just stepped right onto Yuri's one, singular, I Cannot Touch This line of thought. He couldn't have known. He repeats this in his head, over and over, like a mantra. It doesn't really calm him as much as he would like, and in that moment he feels a flash of petty, visceral hate for Asch.
Then, he just feels tired. He's so, so tired.
"No," he says. "It's not my driver's heart. How - how could you tell?" Could he tell more? Flynn's voice echoes in his mind, words that have haunted him for three years without end.
Was it Hisca?
"Like..." he trails off. He knows fuck all about human biology. "Can you tell the..." not gender, probably. Hearts don't differ depending on that. He thinks. "The age of it?"
trauma time :D (again)
It's not panic that freezes Yuri in that moment, but it's the closest word for the feeling he's got. He teeters on the edge, caught between attack! and flee! and the only thing that keeps Asch from getting a fist to the face is that he finally settles on the middle ground of getting everyone the fuck away from him - he shoves Asch a little as he scrambles back, but it's without malice or even intent, really - and once he's got a little more personal space to breathe in once more, the urge to call on his sword and start swinging has lessened. A little.
It's not Asch's fault he just stepped right onto Yuri's one, singular, I Cannot Touch This line of thought. He couldn't have known. He repeats this in his head, over and over, like a mantra. It doesn't really calm him as much as he would like, and in that moment he feels a flash of petty, visceral hate for Asch.
Then, he just feels tired. He's so, so tired.
"No," he says. "It's not my driver's heart. How - how could you tell?" Could he tell more? Flynn's voice echoes in his mind, words that have haunted him for three years without end.
Was it Hisca?
"Like..." he trails off. He knows fuck all about human biology. "Can you tell the..." not gender, probably. Hearts don't differ depending on that. He thinks. "The age of it?"