THE CURSE IS ALL TEETH — the stench it oozes with every breath it takes makes suguru's stomach churn, turning on itself with the disgust reserved to none but creatures such as this, with a grey cast upon its skin, a protruding mouth with blood dripping from the corners, thick and scarlet deep. it's a gift from the monkey's head it has just bitten through, that it masticates with little care in the world. it hasn't noticed him yet : its eye — a sad thing, hanging out of the would-be socket by a fleshy pink string — is still focused on the gushing headless corpse. suguru can feel its strength (a grade one or a semi-special, he's certain, some type of inbetween; the metamorphosis before ascension), and so he expected some type of fight — it doesn't come: suguru stretches his arm towards the creature, palm outstretched.
[ HERE'S THE FIRST SECRET HE'S NEVER TOLD ANYONE : there's no high quite like exorcising a curse — adrenaline courses through his veins, pumped to every corner of his body, to the tips of his fingers, to the vein on his forehead, to the tip of his tongue. it flows, he floats. it's being drunk in power, the kind of power only he can yield — a life, crumbling into his hands, its soul slipping into him. power, power, power. HERE'S THE SECOND SECRET HE'S NEVER TOLD ANYONE : there is no low quite like swallowing a curse, gagging it down, a sphere of rot down your throat, sitting on the pit of your stomach, churning into its rotten soul is your rotten soul. HERE'S THE THIRD SECRET HE'S NEVER TOLD ANYONE : who is really doing the eating? ]
he puts his hand on his knees, body half bent to keep himself from hurling, eyes shut tight to keep even the light of the moon out of sight. he presses his lips together. he breathes. and breathes. and then — on the corner of his eyes, white. the light of the moon reflects against it like holding a flashlight to a mirror, and even with his eyes closed suguru knows. he'll always know — each sorcerer leaks its own unique energy, its soul molding and unmolding. suguru's soul long ago molded against satoru's: he couldn't take it for anything else. ‟ yo, satoru. ” he says, lifting his body up, wiping at his mouth. ‟ long time no see. ”
𖦹 ₊ ┊ ░ RE. GOJO SATORU . . . @unkais : ” STICK YOUR HEAD IN THE DIRT IF YOU WANT, BUT THIS FANTASY YOU'VE BEEN LIVING OUT HERE, IT'S NOT GONNA LAST FOREVER. ‟
suguru blinks. slow, calculated, in the way he knows will get under satoru's skin the most — it's not entirely on purpose, really. a part of him is still reeling from the aftertaste of a curse tingling against his tongue, heavy and rotten, acidic and sour. he thinks on whether they have ever been here before, under different circumstances. teenagers, on the verge of adulthood, blind and dumb and different. happy, maybe. it'd be easier, then, he reckons. instead, suguru looks around, at the empty space around him, nothing but fallen trees and the light of the moon and the stars surrounding them. ‟ in that you are right, sa-to-ru, as you often are. i won't be here forever. in fact, i won't be here much longer at all. ”
