[Finding a gun in boundary of Vash's property was worse than a needle in a haystack. It took-
Awhile. The knife is gone - he doesn't care enough about the dulled blade to give more than a cursory glance around the yard.
And by the time he pulls himself into the doorway, past forgotten meals and into a shared bathroom with a red tinted sink, drops on the edges that denote recent use-
He just doesn't care anymore.
Quiet mind. Blissful reprieve as he follows an all too familiar routine of rinsing bloodied hands for-
Awhile. Repetitive. Mindless. Stings with every tug of thick glass, another stream of red to join the spiraling pool of it, following the thin lines of his palm. Small slivers too deep to pinch out. Impossible to push out. He ignores it and-
Face washed - hair rinsed in the sink. A deep purple settles along his cheek, swelling apparent under his eye and exacerbating an already annoying dark circle. Soreness felt with any minor jaw movement. Shirt coated red from a stab wound with a similar bloom of colors - it almost looks like Loki's spreading across his body.
There are plenty of first aid kits. He ignores every single one of them because-
The fight is a shared responsibility. Both of them egging the other on and-
He remembers that Maruki isn't accustomed to this and-
It would be a shame if he died from minor wounds in his bed after surviving a brutal assault by an ally's hand.
The door's never locked - he walks in, palm stinging with every jostle of his fingers, pinpricks of small glass making themselves known with the twist of a doorknob.
An unopened first aid kit on the table. Dark room. Maruki sprawled on the bed, breathing.]
Don't you understand how infections come about? Sit up.
cw: injury description cont!
Awhile. The knife is gone - he doesn't care enough about the dulled blade to give more than a cursory glance around the yard.
And by the time he pulls himself into the doorway, past forgotten meals and into a shared bathroom with a red tinted sink, drops on the edges that denote recent use-
He just doesn't care anymore.
Quiet mind. Blissful reprieve as he follows an all too familiar routine of rinsing bloodied hands for-
Awhile. Repetitive. Mindless. Stings with every tug of thick glass, another stream of red to join the spiraling pool of it, following the thin lines of his palm. Small slivers too deep to pinch out. Impossible to push out. He ignores it and-
Face washed - hair rinsed in the sink. A deep purple settles along his cheek, swelling apparent under his eye and exacerbating an already annoying dark circle. Soreness felt with any minor jaw movement. Shirt coated red from a stab wound with a similar bloom of colors - it almost looks like Loki's spreading across his body.
There are plenty of first aid kits. He ignores every single one of them because-
The fight is a shared responsibility. Both of them egging the other on and-
He remembers that Maruki isn't accustomed to this and-
It would be a shame if he died from minor wounds in his bed after surviving a brutal assault by an ally's hand.
The door's never locked - he walks in, palm stinging with every jostle of his fingers, pinpricks of small glass making themselves known with the twist of a doorknob.
An unopened first aid kit on the table. Dark room. Maruki sprawled on the bed, breathing.]
Don't you understand how infections come about? Sit up.