Things were moving too quickly, but they were clearly moving in one direction, and it was disaster. He had to stop this, before they got too far, before one of them got hurt. The trees around them rattled without wind, bushes suddenly bristled with thorns, and Greg found his feet with a helpful shove from the grass underneath. He dove between them, sure that if he could just get them to listen, they could figure something out. "Stop!"

There was an impact, and then things really did seem to... stop.

It was very hard to figure out how, or why, or what, just that everything had suddenly shifted greatly, and Greg had the distinct feeling he'd done something wrong. With great effort, perhaps the most monumental feat of focus he'd ever managed, Greg figured out how to look down.

Something was in his chest. Something jagged, and dark, and sharp, and it was poking out of him. His vision blurred. Peridot's...it was in him. Oh. At that point, he dimly recognized the pain.

"Rskgh--" He tried to speak, and instead choked on something thick and heavy in his mouth. He tried to breathe, and instead found more of the substance blocking the way. He tried to move, and instead realized he was on the ground.

This wasn't going how he'd wanted. Though, now, it was getting hard to imagine anything different. It was getting hard to imagine anything. But he'd wanted--he'd hoped--Steven would...