#dissevered

"Who's there?" Ismael is quick when she turns her head over her shoulder. honeyed brown eyes staring into the awfully dimmed streets. She doesn't have her bow and arrow with her at the moment, but at least one of her owls are. Iyana is perched on top one of the trees, hidden rather well. That's not all, while Ismael doesn't have her trusty bow and arrow as mentioned, she does have a small knife in her hand.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He says, not daring to turn his back on the demon king, “What happened to gettin’ the sword?!”

And with the new toy she gave him? Some sort of spacer-like gun that can supposedly knock a man unconscious with a single blast? It’s so easy, it’s free. He waits until the sickly man seats himself at some little family diner and enters a few minutes after to seat himself at one of the adjacent tables. Waiting until the waitress walks over to offer him a menu. With a smile and a ‘thanks, sweetheart’, he doesn’t even fully finish his sentence before he pulls the gun from his coat and fires off a shot at the weakling without warning.

       “ Don’t you do anything other than read?”

  it certainly wasn’t the best of greetings and Trish didn’t care to bother. after a minute or so of muffled protests, she lets go of Griffon’s beak, coming to stand by the side of the bench with a hand on her hip. “ Then again, there’s not much one can do in a glorified prison. “

The man on the bench has a book she’s never seen before. She’s trying to get a better look, to see the title of it beneath those slender fingers, and though she’s trying to be subtle about it, it’s quite obvious that there is a rabbit woman squatting behind a fire hydrant, white ears perked like a signal flag.

Zero locks himself in one of the bathrooms, giving in to the head trauma’s nausea. There’s not much but bile. Everything still feels like it’s stretching and moving, and his vision just won’t focus. Paranoia is still trying to scrape itself across his muscles.

You made it this far. Just to take your stupid drugs?

Whatever else he took is wearing off, but it still didn’t place nice with the Chronos that was left. If he could trust someone else to make sure he got it later, when it was all flushed out…no. No, no. You can barely speak. You can barely think. God, he can’t even hit a vein like this.

Laying his forehead on the toilet seat, he falls into malaise. Breathing heavily through dripping, clogged nose and mouth. As the door opens, he has a second to glimpse who’s there before he’s grabbed by the hospital gown and hoisted.

Kicking and squirming he slams back into the ground, reaching for the syringe before his hand is crunched under foot, screaming in pain. Grabbed by the hair, a voice whispers and mocks,

“Should’a killed me first, huh?”

By now, Zero can barely move, and is at the mercy of–it’s him. He can barely make out the description with his eyes and mind. The same philosophy pops up in his head. Not in words, but in gesture. Kill first. All that comes out of his mouth, even though he accepts the situation right now, is,

>“Yeah.”

@dissevered 

     ❛   Haa…   ❜

         HAKUNO   continues to blow hot air into her gloves, keeping them cupped against her face, but she still can’t preserve the warmth as much as she’d like. She lingers by the foot of the path, the entrance to the tunnel far ahead — and beyond that, the garden of ash. She can’t really see it past all the beautiful decorations that illuminate the way; some of them catch the light even from here, twinkling and twirling with surprising potency. The optics here remind her of the Arena in a lot of ways, but at its source is a goal so human and natural that the Moon Cell could never hope to replicate it. 

         These were the sorts of things she hoped Hakuno Kishinami would see when she awoke. 

         Ideally, Hakuno Kishinami wouldn’t have to see them alone. Rin Tohsaka would have found her, shown her how to exist in the present, and they could have viewed it together. It was a nice thought... But for now, ‘this’ Hakuno Kishinami would be content to wait for the couples and friend groups to pass so it stings a little less. 

         A familiar figure catches her eye, however— or more accurately, the way he carries himself is familiar. She bows her head slightly in acknowledgment, and despite her thoughts’ best efforts, the smile she gives is genuine. 

     ❛   I’ve decided I like the winter, I think. The snow is worth the cold, at least.   ❜

          ❝   ... Is it really that painful a read ?   ❞