rambling crap, lalala
Ryuuji chooses to remain in silence for the moment as Varada speaks with his brother. After all, the words he needs to hear right now are from him, aren't they? Judging by the way Shiox's unfocused eyes are fixed solely on the altered human, how he's clearly struggling to focus on the man's by now tear-streaked face... he needs Varada to speak with him.
Besides... what can Ryuuji say? 'Sorry for getting you shot'? 'This is my fault'? 'Why the hell did you do that, you idiot'? Hardly comforting or going to solve anything. No, for the moment, he's going to focus on what needs to be done, not... not that guilt gnawing away at the pit of his stomach, not that fear practically strangling him. Focus, focus, and he... he.... The kokuei gives a slight shake of his head, willing his fragmented thoughts away. Thinking really isn't the greatest idea at the moment either.
Action. Damage control. Solutions. That was what he needs to focus on. Nothing more. Otherwise, his racing pulse pounding in his ears is going to drive him past the brink of madness.
He can feel that healing energy filtering from Varada, entering the psychic, strong and effective, but he plans to add to it. He might be a murdering, heartless bastard, but healing is another of those skills that Ryuuji has proficiency in, and he damn well intends to use it. First, however, he removes his long sleeved over-shirt—leaving himself in a black t-shirt—balling it up and placing it firmly to the worst of those numerous wounds marring his brother's torso. They're... none of them are 'good', but.... He's seen enough wounds in his day to know which is the most dangerous.
... And then Shiox starts letting out those gasping, gagged coughs, that wet, gurgling noise sending cold terror shooting up and down his spine. He begins to send that dark, cool energy pouring into his baby brother's even colder body, that frown on his lips only deepening. “Stop trying to talk and focus on breathing, Shiox,” he orders, applying heavier pressure to that profusely bleeding wound, filtering another thick wave of energy into the boy's frame.