the sole of shions sneakers slides over the blood slick tile of the morgue. a man is slouched in the corner half-eaten, all-dead. xe has thus far survived on coffee and already composing corpses, with the occasional bite of live flesh. this is new. xer stomach turns. " self-defense, " shion whispers to the one other living figure in the room. not quite as xe says. shion could have called someone, but xer hunger took over and now they were in a much worse situation than they started in. " i have to clean up. i'll get rid of the body. you need to change into clean scrubs. i-i need new scrubs. " shion's voice is monotone, quiet, matter-of-fact. if he speaks like he know what he's doing, then he fucking knows what he's doing. the metal surface of the autopsy table he approaches reflects himself back — red crimson scarlet carmine red red red red. he turns away, nauseous. he knows his teeth haven't recessed, left eye is still holding on to the pitch black sclera. at least the telum is gone, though his shirt is shredded. he moves towards them, needing to make sure they're okay, that he wasn't the one to inadvertently hurt them. " i'm sorry. " for you having to see that, for not telling you to leave earlier, for not being the same person i was when we were little. " does anything hurt ? that blood... mine, his, or yours ? "
[ starter — @supercutts ]
