IC Inbox CW: THREADS AT TOP UNMARKED FOR VARIOUS TOPICS INCL. MENTION OF MURDER, INCEST,etc.

[aibolition]

N/A
UN: USERNAMEHERE

STATUS: Student, starting Grade 11

ACCOLADES: Straight A student. Once ripped a guy's arm off.

BIO: Fluent in Japanese, learning English. If all those juicy details didn't satisfy you you're about to be sorely disappointed.

© TESSISAMESS

Comments

Re: cw blood and injury, disembodied arm, just terrible things

[aibolition]

Sneaking up on him doesn't happen. Even for those without a spiritual presence to sense, he wasn't the sort to be caught off guard, thanks to red hair he no longer has and a stupid father he also doesn't have for that. He spots the scuttling arm before it has a chance to grab at him and he has just the control not to send the thing a swift kick. He recognizes it and that brings his eyes to narrow.

He snatches it up, gripping tight. He's stalking for the alley and his mask is forming before he even thinks about it, hiding his vulnerability and revealing his lack of heart as the hole in his chest forms in turn, showing in the way his shirt sinks there. He has, often, been the only hope and always regrettably. But never quite like this.

"Chh."

She's right. The scene isn't funny. It feels like a fire in his veins, biting fury. That's familiar too.

"This is incredibly screwed up. Even for you."

[badinfluenza]

The groan, annoyed and pained more than anything thanks to it being out of socket, isn't a satisfying enough response, so instead the arm he's holding shifts at the wrist to give him the middle finger. Either help or fuck off??

The good news is that she has the energy for that, it's really just her body being all fucked up that's got her figuratively begging him for his help. It'd be a lot of haughty commands, if it were up to her -- both of them know she isn't the type to beg even using her very last breath. That'd be such a waste of it, anyway.

[aibolition]

He notes the flipped disembodied bird. He hums. Good trick. Not as good as his own trick for having an arm taken off, but a good trick.

Of course, this whole situation is still stupid if you ask him.

"Apparently I haven't told you; I can't heal other people for shit. Do you want me to drag you somewhere or curbstomp the guy while you die?" She should have called him before it got to this point, he thinks.

Asking her, though, is ultimately pointless because he's reaching to haul her up anyway. It's going to hurt like Hell, but tough.

[badinfluenza]

Oh, that abso-fucking-lutely hurts like hell, and her remaining good arm digs into him since she can't bite down on the whimper of anguish and ends up more or less burying her face into him to hide the furious tears forming in her eyes. She hates this, she hates him, she hates this stupid world that allowed horrible things to exist just to do more horrible things to them. Shoving those feelings down to her useless feet to dangle, breath harsh and ugh, she's probably drooling, Lotte manages to release her grip enough to tap him before shakily getting an empty syringe out of her inventory and pointing it at the hunter. Fetch.

[aibolition]

He lets her hide. If anything, he cradles her closer. She can drool. He doesn't care. He'll even pretend he doesn't know she's crying.

He's of the mind to take her elsewhere. He can't heal her, he'll find someone else.

Or not.

"You want me to stick him or something?"

He scoffs, but he steps forward, holding her carefully to him in one arm as he crouches and yanks the other man with none of that same care. If she wants him to take the syringe too he'll jab it in the worthless hunter's neck.

[badinfluenza]

Gross. If she could, and if she weren't so occupied with a mess of feelings distracting her, she'd make fun of him for how he was holding her, like he cared about her or something. What a loser. Idiot stupid loser that thankfully isn't so stupid as to not follow her mimed instruction.

Shuddering with the effort of getting herself to shut up, stop letting someone see her so useless and dependent, little more than doll, she reaches her arm across to the detached one and does the motion on a pretend syringe it 'holds' to draw blood. Then she holds her hand out, expectant and waiting in a way that was as impatient as she could manage, like this.

[aibolition]

Simple enough instruction. He draws the blood easy and it's in her hand quick. The scent of blood was already heavy in the alley. Souls are closer to the surface than they would be. His hunger gnaws but like usual, he doesn't let it show. He's gone this long, this far, and this is no temptation compared to what he's known.

Still, it would be far easier if it wasn't her that was the mess.

Stabbing him would do nothing. Therefore, she has to be stabbing herself with the blood. Which can only mean he's about to witness something strange.

Before it even takes place, he says, "You're a real freak of nature."

[badinfluenza]

Lotte levels a flat glare at him, and the stab of the needle into the soft underside of her jaw is all the more deliberate for it. She's aware and all, but he doesn't have to say it.

Blood emptied into her, she lets the syringe drop into whatever qualifies as a lap in her cradled position so that she can press her palm hard against her jaw to help force it into place. That hurts like hell, too, and it only becomes easier to cry out in pain as her flesh golem body takes the blood and does...whatever it does to fuse and click, healing her up. Not enough to fix everything, but at least she'll be able to speak again. Just as soon as she stops her pathetic panting and sniffling. She's going to be bruised so badly soon, her skin already darkening in blotches around all her various injuries.

"Y-you're the freak watching, you know. And thinking about feeding, too, I bet. Wearing that thing."

For as much as it could be considered 'wearing'.

[aibolition]

He definitely had to say it. Of course, it's a case of pot-kettle, but such is his life.

"You mean my mask? That literal physical manifestation of myself? The one I feel as much as any limb if not moreso? That 'Thing'?" Hard to look deadpan but his tone sure manages it. "Idiot."

She is right about him watching. He's not going to hand a mashed up pulp of a girl a vial of blood and not see what she'll do. It's different than his sort of regeneration. He's not sure his way is any prettier but it's sure as hell more convenient. Pushing joints back in place, what a pain in the ass.

"You sure like to presume you know how my 'feeding' works."

Not her fault, seeing he sure likes to tell no one.

[badinfluenza]

She hums, feigning a yawn but getting interrupted by a wince as another throb of pain shoots through her jaw. Bodies sure were useless meatsacks. She continues like it hadn't happened.

"What I know is that you're gross." Does he regret helping this brat yet? With her detached arm, she starts to poke annoyingly at him. With her better one, she reaches to boop his nose. This time when she speaks, her voice is sugary sweet. "Hey. I need more blood. Unless you want to carry me around for the rest of time~"

[aibolition]

"Says the roadkill look-alike contest winner," He mutters.

He scowls behind the mask. The attempt at touching the mask gets her hand swatted sharply. He regrets helping a little, but that, too, is familiar.

"Keep trying to piss me off and I'll drop you." Which, from him, isn't an empty threat.

But, for now, he swipes that filthy syringe back. He doesn't bother trying to line it up in the same place. He just stabs in until it works.

"How'd you let some pathetic little weasel like this kick your ass anyway?"

[badinfluenza]

"Don't be mean to me, I'm injured." Him swatting her hand away makes her pout and whine to emphasize this fact, but it's only half faked. As much as she wants to mouth off to him some more, she really doesn't want to push him into actually dropping her so she'd be left in a crying, writhing heap of pain.

Maybe it's just that she seems more inclined to behave at the threat that there's a moment of peaceful silence before she responds. "Well, he very nicely asked me to stay where I was."

Boy, does she wish it was another sarcastic comment like how she frames it. Boy, does she wish that the hunter hadn't told her to stop, making her wait for him and listen while he repeatedly commanded she hold still, stay where she was, stand there and wait, don't move. Even with all her struggling, she'd barely managed to get a grip on her knife by the time he was swinging at her. He'd known to treat her as anyone treats a golem, but at least he hadn't known that cutting her off from her arm wouldn't keep it from hurting him. She'd severed his Achilles' tendons and when he dropped from the pain and surprise, cut and stabbed with all the viciousness he'd beat her legs in with that her limited dexterity as a disembodied arm allowed.

"It's harder to see when it's daytime. I wasn't planning on being out for long, or I'd have brought a sun hat. Keep my leg in place while I'm doing my injections. It would be a bother to have to keep positioning it again because it's in all different directions, and it'll probably spasm."

She's patched herself up enough times, even with as careful as she was, to guess that it would hurt as little by little, more of the leg got set in place.

[aibolition]

"In the clinic I lived in," He says dryly, "The patients followed our rules or they could walk themselves to the hospital and wait it out there." This was not a threat that needed to be said often or acted upon, but it was still true.

They don't talk of things they don't want to. They don't share feelings or any of that ridiculousness and he doesn't feel the desire to change that. It wouldn't do either of them any good. But, her flippancy with this makes a growl settle in his hollowed-out chest. It's obvious something happened. He wouldn't have to be here helping her put herself back together if there wasn't.

She should have been more prepared. What was the matter with her? This should not have happened. And she's talking about forgetting a freaking sunhat.

"Looks like I'm dropping you anyway. I'm not going to be able to pin your leg down like this."

But at least the "drop" will be more slowly setting her down. He passes her back that syringe.

[badinfluenza]

If she had a heart that worked properly, it probably would have beat a little faster when he says he'll be dropping her, with how fear jolts through her. But then he's setting her down, and it hurts still, but not nearly as much as she was afraid of. He's not like her, and it's times like this -- times she was always so determined to not let happen -- where it really showed. Pretty foolish of him, when the world wasn't guaranteed to show the same kindness in return, but...it was hard to be too mad at that or how much better he was than her in the moment.

Instead of commenting on it -- what's she supposed to say about that, anyway? -- the girl busies herself with deep breaths to stop her hands from trembling with the anticipation of pain she knows will be coming, and goes to jab at the hunter with a much more practiced precision. So, he'd lived in a clinic... Either he was awful at paying attention or he didn't much care, with how he was going about the blood retrieval before she took over. She barely pauses when the hunter weakly stirs, eyes opening just enough to notice they weren't alone anymore and croaks out, "Help..."

There's no force behind it, and it's not directed at her, anyway, so she doesn't feel any compulsion to try. Instead, her voice kicks into chipper mode and she flashes him the biggest, fakest smile she can. "Help myself? Wow, thanks! I'd be happy to!"

"She's...abomination..."

Tell them something they don't know, jeez. What a waste of some of his last breaths. What would really help her out is if he quit bleeding all over the pavement and saved more for her, since each leg was going to take multiple injections... She can't maintain the cheery attitude for long, though, because wow! Making your mangled legs not mangled anymore sure does hurt! Good thing she's not particularly strong and also doesn't...really have means to shove him away with anyway, as her self-preservation instinct overrides her common sense and along with her legs trying to correct themselves further through her magic, she struggles to make them work enough to kick him off.

[aibolition]

It's better to keep such thoughts to herself. He knew full well how the world was and could be. But he doesn't offer a hand to just anyone. It takes just a moment for him to find that his hands are in the wrong place. The flat gold light of his eyes behind the mask seems to flare for a moment.

He stays silent and still, holding her down long enough to finish this. Her kicking does nothing. Not to him. The trouble is that he wants to let go. Every day he pours his limited self-control into one single thing and it turns out spreading that resource even thinner is tiresome. The moment he can, the moment he's sure she'll be still enough, he addresses her.

"Wait. Stay still."

So help them both if she doesn't listen to him now, because the next moment, he seems to have vanished from her side, appearing by the pleading hunter in a flash. His hand all but crushes down on their throat. The jaws of his mask part in time with his bared teeth behind them. His hand seems to shift, nails extending into sharper black claws, each knuckle jutting to something jagged. He leans in.

"You're going to die," He says to the hunter, and the reverb of his voice seems even stronger now. "When you do, I'll have the power to obliterate you, tooth or claw, or send you on. Whichever way I choose, you won't outrun me. But instead, you're going to send a message. You're going to find your other stupid little hunters and anyone else you think might interfere with her business and you're going to haunt them until they listen. You're going to send the message that if this ever happens again... I'll rip all your throats out. And I'll devour you." His teeth are nearly close enough to scrape flesh. He could take a chunk out now. His claws squeeze, leaving pricks in the skin. And he whispers, low, "You think she's an abomination? She's got nothing on me. Now die quietly."

And then, in a flash, like he left, he's back at her side. The only sign of otherwise are his slowly retracting claws and the scratches on the hunter's neck.

"Are your legs about done?" He asks her.

[badinfluenza]

Instantly, she stills at his words, even though she still wants to fight, kick, and cry about the pain. Maybe 'want' was a strong word for that last one... But either way, she stops struggling except for a persistent tremble and a clenched jaw, and she listens.

She doesn't need his help. She doesn't, despite so very obviously needing him now, and he shouldn't even want to help her anyway. Idiot... He didn't make any sense, even when he was one of the only ones that came close to making sense to her at all. It's easier to focus on the ragged, scared puffs of breath than his words.

Once he's back, Lotte moves again to numbly nod, her expression and tone heavy with tired annoyance from having listened to him. Even in this short time, and though they were more bruise than leg, really, they should be okay enough for her to limp her way around. "I just need to line up my arm and put blood on it, and one more syringe..." That one she can get for herself, at least. The other one would go faster if it was left up to him.

[aibolition]

He makes little more than a noise and he moves to direct his attentions on her arm, shifting and pushing it in whatever way he needs to it's the way it should be. Really, the worst sort of regeneration, he thinks again.

The hunter is back to being ignored. Ichigo would have been furious with him, simply letting someone die. Ichigo wasn't here to do anything about it.

"I'm guessing you only use fresh? Otherwise, you could simply carry some and I can't imagine you'd be dumb enough that you wouldn't."

[badinfluenza]

With the arm, once blood is washed over the place it was severed, her pale skin starts to stitch itself back together. Unlike her legs, there's no purple-blue-yellow of bruising, just a fresh pink line that would fade as time went on. The blood fades much faster, and must be sinking in through her skin like it's some weird absorbent.

"Awh, you're such a charmer!" Pushed to be perky, which drops again instantly. "Yep. There's not many uses for old blood in blood magic, and that's the only blood I've got. Barely any circulation, you know."

She flexes her fingers experimentally. They're a little stiff, and it hurts in that pins and needles way, but it should be good enough for proper use in a little bit. It's not like she wants to stay exposed out here for much longer, anyway.

"Upsy-daisy..." Which would take an excruciating long time on her own, whoops.

[aibolition]

If he weren't bone white himself, he might say something like "no wonder" regarding the apparent lack of circulation. She's basically a walking corpse. At least she's no longer roadkill.

The shining light of his eyes dims just enough that she can see them roll even behind the mask. He mutters over her idiocy once again, but then moves to lift her up. He's got a mind to throw her over his shoulder but, considering her injuries, he imagines she'll make a fuss and that would be even more annoying. In his arms she stays then.

He casts one last glance back at the dying hunter. In truth, he thinks, even if he'd wanted to, there'd likely be no saving them.

"So where the hell am I dumping you?" He asks her.

[badinfluenza]

Even with this, it takes some effort not to screech at him. It was bad enough when she couldn't move, but now it was basically just for kicks!!! (It wasn't.) Still...this would be faster, and hey, if she decided that him knowing where she was staying was a bad idea, she'd just move on to somewhere else. She should probably be getting to that soon anyway, since she didn't know what other hunters this one might be working with, or how much they knew.

"There's an apartment building back that way, about a block once you follow the alley back. It's on this side of the street, with a white door that has a window that looks like a weird blocky heart. Are you going to stay like that?"

All Hollowed up...

[aibolition]

He's already started walking as she begins her explanation. He starts heading out of the alley, toward the open street, then she asks about his mask. He stops.

Damn. He probably does have to get rid of it, doesn't he?

His pause makes it very clear he didn't consider this at all and for that he eloquently says, "Shut up."

He shifts her in his arms so he can lifts a hand just enough to wave it over his face. With that, the mask starts to dissolve. As it does, the hole in his chest seals up-- nothing more than an illusion, really, it doesn't give him a heart-- and there's just the briefest catch in his breath. He hurries then out into the street, looking for her stupid heart window, tempted to kick in the door when he finds it. He doesn't look at her, as though without the mask, the closeness has become suddenly unbearable.

[badinfluenza]

Ha. There, she watched out for him when he was being stupid, it wasn't just going one way, this time. She doesn't have to feel...quite so ashamed of herself. She takes comfort in him sassing her, too, smirking and allowing herself to sink against him and start poking at where the hole had been. If she's annoying, then she doesn't have to think about how much he was taking care of her or wonder why he's all the more on edge. When they reach the front of the steps leading up, her legs swing despite the fact that doing so makes her want to scream and break something. Chop them off so she doesn't have to deal with them until later, when she knows managing the pain won't...well, come along with the urge to chop them off.

"Alright, put me down. I'm not going to let you carry me over the threshold like some creep with a child bride."

She just needs to unlock the door and stumble over to the nearest piece of furniture and damn it she's starting to regret not having any fucking furniture. Just a blank slate of a home she was ready to abandon at a moment's notice, a series of rooms with white walls and no decorations, sometimes with a chair or table or bedframe, and two stacks of all white clothes, one neatly folded and one a discarded heap.

In the end, she ends up setting her back to a wall and sliding down it while she fumbles with the white buttons of her white button-up blouse.

"Make yourself at home~ Someone should."

[aibolition]

She prods his chest which makes him jostle her. Is it on purpose or on accident? Guess she'll never know. They get to the door and he drops her immediately.

"Don't be disgusting," He huffs. Tall order. It seemed everyone around him was hellbent on being so.

He takes in the absolute utter blankness of the room she took up for herself. Anything he could think to compare it to was far from homey.

"You sure that's a good idea? You and I could become so camouflaged we'd never find each other again."

He could probably use a sink. He's got her blood on his hands and that's neither appealing nor going to help him out in public.

[badinfluenza]

Hardy har, smart guy.

"You've got your spooky glowy eyes. I can find you that way." As for her... Yeah, she wasn't exactly her usual perfect porcelain self. Even if she hid herself in her long fountain of white curls, she wouldn't be able to cover up every part of her going through a whole range of colors. She doesn't bother bringing it up or wasting more attention on him, just finishes opening up her top to inspect how deep into her side the hunter had gotten when cutting her arm off and test the state of her skin around there. Yeah, getting rigid... Great. She loves bleeding internally, especially with her disgusting sludge blood that shouldn't even be able to flow enough to pool in other places anyway!! Well, that's what she'd gotten that last syringe of blood for, which she gets out of her inventory again before jabbing it in.

The sink, whether he finds it in the kitchen space open to the main floor, or in the small bathroom, is white and surrounded by -- surprise! -- more white! She's kind of got a theme going here.

"...It's unbelievable you were passing by when you did."

That might...be her version of saying 'dang I got lucky, thanks so much'.

[aibolition]

White, white, and even more white. Now he knows what this place reminds him of. Frigin' Hueco Mundo under Aizen's shitty taste.

He simply makes a face as he rinses his hands clean. He doesn't want to think about that bastard. He still remembers the brush of Ichigo's pity for the guy who screwed them all over and it makes him want to kick things too. He'll take his time with that to avoid whatever she's doing with her shirt for a while, then lean outside the door rather than walk back in.

"I guess I have a talent for it," He says. "Try not to make a habit of getting nearly killed though. I happen to have a job that keeps me busy."

Not a paying job, no, but a thing that he does.

"Are you entirely healed?"