#iobartach

✶  ︵  *dash  game:  knowing  your  writing  partner  can  potentially  make  writing  together  a  lot  easier!

Traumatic/Dramatic Starters | Accepting @iobartach ( 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐔𝐌𝐀 ) ; our muses sit together after a traumatic experience. + ( 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 ) ; one muse holds the other’s hand while they’re in pain or panicking. 

The scene she last remembered was being in that backstreet, fully of rage and bitterness and looking for prey before being interrupted, restrained, and then--a moment of lucidity--a swift bite to her own body to keep her from hurting him. Even lost in the thrall of her spider she still had the forethought to protect others rather than herself.

It showed in the way she had used her own poison to subdue and paralyze rather than inflict it as a killing blow on Miguel--Who in that haze of basic instinct was a competitor and a potential meal.

Now she lay in her bed, in the very same apartment she had hoisted the other spider to when he had been consumed by similar madness. Her body bruised and scraped from the various surfaces of buildings she had skittered over in her hunt, fingertips splotched with yellow and purple from the spindles that had extended from them. Hints of dried blood still present beneath her fingernails as shallow breaths rattled in her slow-rising chest. No doubt fractured or broken from the contortions and force she had put her body through. There had been a moment, a stirring in the blackness, where she thought she felt someone touch her. It had quickly faded back into the darkness where she wandered. She knew she wasn't dead, but with how much it hurt to breathe she wondered if she may as well have been.

Hinoka knew Miguel's presence, and the fact that it persisted confused her but it was to be expected. Why not finish her then and there? Was she not considered a threat now? Why bring her back in the first place and not to the Spider Society to be monitored?

Why...Why had he even come back in the first place?

Thoughts and instinct swirl around in the dark as she traipsed through nothingness. Only to slip back into familiar glimpses of that night and the hunt she had so desperately set herself on--only to flash and change back to various instances of her life.

"Dude, are you good? You're staring at your phone like its going to bite you."

"We should move the cable machines," Ilja admits, hands on his hips, studying the two units with exhausted frustration. A full day of work, only to realize the placement didn't leave enough room during the soft opening. Now, studying them as they prepare for hard opening, he's finally figured out the placement, but he doesn't think he has it in himself to manage this. He can't afford another injury, and his knee is already screaming at him.

Not that he's showing it. He's good at masking any pain he does feel. Too good. Catastrophically, as it's led to him pushing his body too far more than once.

He looks to Miguel, brows rising.

"I don't supposed you'd...?" He gestures to the cleared wall.

@iobartach sent:

[ GET DOWN ]: sender tackles receiver out of the way of danger. (For alex!)

NONVERBAL PROMPTS.

Being knocked down for various reasons wasn't an unfamiliar concept to Murphy, he can't recall the last time he'd been physically tackled though, given that he weighs nearly a ton, most humans weren't capable of knocking him off his feet without assistance. Of course the thought doesn't linger long, even if Murphy is a little stunned from being tackled down and out of danger. Not that it was really needed, his body was designed to be difficult to break.

As he manages to sit up again, Murphy looks at the man who had tackled him out of harms way, however unnecessary as it had been, the cyborg isn't too sure what to say at first. So he stares for a moment, until he settles on three words. "Thank you, citizen."