021| [Wtf....?]
[ooc: Nearly 3 Days after one Epic Fight, wasn't sure Day 57 or 8 so I leave it up to your discretion Yuffmeister!]
The staggered erratic pounding of boots along a damp earthy corridor, in time with an adrenaline fueled heartbeat. I remember the wet cracking sound of a kneecap giving under my weight and then there was darkness all of a sudden. No phasing out of the detail of the world like when ones consciousness drifts away into that blissful oblivion line by line; texture at a time. Just a hot feeling a second later against the side of my face but the shock must have kept the pain away, a metallic taste at the back of my throat.
Not again. I remember distinctly thinking. I couldn't fail her again.
Not a single answer to my own thoughts, just as it had been since she had left. Lonely.
There was no way to track the time, but there was eventually discomfort behind my own eyes. Once opened the details of the room came sharply back into focus. As did the knowledge that there were several bullets lodged in several places throughout my whole being. The casings felt sharper now, hotter than they had been when they had suddenly entered flesh in the first place. Adrenaline doesn't last forever, Mother's cells can only ignore damage that needs to be repaired for so long; now seemed to be starting to push out the offending pieces of metal of their own accord. Attempting to.
I did not even try to move a fraction of an inch, just laid on the old undressed mattress waiting for these strange sensations to pass. They didn't. Throbbing welts eventually grew stronger into near spasms within limbs and ribcage. The whole surface of my skull felt laid bare underneath hair which I knew was heavily stained. Thick gashes incurred from a fight with a demon were also healing; perhaps my senses were too sharp now - stomach wrenching feelings of skin knitting back together. Across a cheek flesh was pulled back open as I turned my head to see who I thought lingered in the doorway. Silver hair matching to my own, pale bluish skin stretched across a porcelain frame. Perfection.
Mother...I thought you had left me. I sent to the figure in the doorway via our language without words.
The staggered erratic pounding of boots along a damp earthy corridor, in time with an adrenaline fueled heartbeat. I remember the wet cracking sound of a kneecap giving under my weight and then there was darkness all of a sudden. No phasing out of the detail of the world like when ones consciousness drifts away into that blissful oblivion line by line; texture at a time. Just a hot feeling a second later against the side of my face but the shock must have kept the pain away, a metallic taste at the back of my throat.
Not again. I remember distinctly thinking. I couldn't fail her again.
Not a single answer to my own thoughts, just as it had been since she had left. Lonely.
There was no way to track the time, but there was eventually discomfort behind my own eyes. Once opened the details of the room came sharply back into focus. As did the knowledge that there were several bullets lodged in several places throughout my whole being. The casings felt sharper now, hotter than they had been when they had suddenly entered flesh in the first place. Adrenaline doesn't last forever, Mother's cells can only ignore damage that needs to be repaired for so long; now seemed to be starting to push out the offending pieces of metal of their own accord. Attempting to.
I did not even try to move a fraction of an inch, just laid on the old undressed mattress waiting for these strange sensations to pass. They didn't. Throbbing welts eventually grew stronger into near spasms within limbs and ribcage. The whole surface of my skull felt laid bare underneath hair which I knew was heavily stained. Thick gashes incurred from a fight with a demon were also healing; perhaps my senses were too sharp now - stomach wrenching feelings of skin knitting back together. Across a cheek flesh was pulled back open as I turned my head to see who I thought lingered in the doorway. Silver hair matching to my own, pale bluish skin stretched across a porcelain frame. Perfection.
Mother...I thought you had left me. I sent to the figure in the doorway via our language without words.