alright - axel’s made up his mind.
whistles are, in fact, fuckin’ creepy.
not that it took much convincing. just seeing one of them out there in the great white was enough to creep him out. admittedly, axel may have taken out some of his frustration on the thing - it’s been a while since he’s been able to seriously use his chakrams in combat. that definitely resulted in an overkill sort of situation... but overkill’s better than getting his life-force sucked out of him or something equally shitty, right?
in fact, he was able to make such short work of the thing that axel didn’t even realize that he was bleeding until he got back to the village. the sight of red blood dripping on the snow - as well as the literal trail of it behind him - made him pale. raising his arm and feeling that sharp zing of pain, he realized that he was totally sliced on the arm. the attack tore through his coat and his skin. when did that even happen?!
after thinking about just ignoring it (and potentially dying in some gruesome way) or treating it himself (and potentially dying in yet another gruesome way), he decided to head on over to the warmhouse and get it checked out by someone who actually knows what they’re doing.
“it’s not a big deal,” he tells the person who works here. “didn’t even feel it when it happened.” he grimaces. “must’ve been that stupid thing’s claws. what the hell’s up with those whistles, anyway?”
★ @decompking
