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Short Story with OCs

Sunan runs his hands through his hair over and over again. He's tired and hungry, and he needs to mellow out; sensitive scalps were sometimes a good thing. Usually not, though, but that wasn't important right now. All he needed was to relax, or at least have some down time.

None of that seemed apparent; all he could see was dead land, salt everywhere. Trees were tall and gray with stretched out limbs that curled like old arthritic fingers and black rocks littered the ground; the sky was rust colored and the clouds looked like toxic, thick smoke that would turn a person's lungs raven black if inhaled once.

It's his eyes playing tricks on him, the Headmaster says, but all that means is that he's sitting idly somewhere; blank faced with a hollow stare and quiet breathing. No heartbeat. He wonders where, and he wonders why no one's noticed. Maybe while /his/ eyes 'play tricks on him', everyone else's eyes didn't see his seemingly soulless body, sitting alone? That sounded stupid. This wasn't some magic land with invisibility cloaks and fairy dust or whatever-- he groans and rubs his hand over his face, squeezing his temples until they hurt in a strangely comforting way.

The handle of the saw meets the base of his skull, and he screams, falls forward, curls up and holds it, writhing on the ground.

A man, standing 7'2", head draped in a curtain of crow-colored hair that curled together around his knees, scowls at him, as he always did. Ryenshi may have had fabulous hair, but underneath the pitch black drapes was an almost scary man with a square jaw, crooked nose, and smoldering eyes that could break a man of the greatest courage. He was dressed in a black Chinese martial arts robe, and even if it didn't seem like the manliest thing to wear, that didn't matter to him; he had proven too many times to Sunan how convenient the clothes were when fighting.

Ryenshi picks up his foot, slams it down on Sunan's stomach, and Sunan grunts, his eyes widen, then he makes strained noises, chokes, coughs, gags, and spits up blood.

"Stop being overdramatic." Ryenshi barks out. "You're acting so weak. It's infuriating." He rolls him over with his foot, grits his teeth as Sunan looks up at him, looking exhausted. Its only reward is foot to his jaw, and when his head rolls to the side, more blood pours out.

"I think I bit my tongue." The words roll out of his mouth in the blood that pours off his lips and dribbles over his cheek onto the ground. He looks back up, this time simply indifferent, as if he was just making an observation, and was looking for confirmation. Ryenshi's scowl doesn't seem to change, and yet, Sunan thinks he sees it soften.

"Better," He grumbles, "But still stupid." He throws his saw onto the ground, and picks up Sunan's discarded quan dao. "Leaving your weapon alone is also very stupid." He takes it in both hands, flips it, and plunges it into Sunan's hip, lets go, and leaves it there, deep, pinning Sunan to the ground as he tries to twist and scream. "Stupidly leaving yourself open, as well." He kicks the staff of the quan dao, and it shoves forward, of course moving the blade with it, therefore widening the wound; Sunan is shrieking and crying, but mainly trembling violently, only making things worse as his muscles tense around the pain and shake against the fine blade. Blood is everywhere, and a second later Sunan has lost his ability to scream anymore. Ryenshi sighs.

"Finally, some peace and quiet."

Sunan is just breathing now, short and ragged and shallow breathes that are painful, and he's making small noises, mostly choking noises, as he tries to inhale the blood in the back of his throat.

"I suppose that's enough." He hears, and Ryenshi's hands are on the staff again, pulling it back and forth, wrenching it out of his hip. Sunan is silent beneath him, eyes wide and mouth open, throat burning as he tried to scream and breath at the same time, even though all that came out were pathetic growling noises and gags. When the blade is gone, he lays there, and stops trembling, but he's arching forward, looking as if he's about to vomit.

Ryenshi kneels down. He slams his hand against Sunan's face, and there's a crack as Sunan's head meets the ground again.

The hand leaves, but a second later the staff is in his eye. Through his skull. In the ground. The pain halts.

He's home, at the desk in his room.

#short story #oc #sunan montri #story #ryenshi #violence

So his hair's still for the zoomed in part I DON'T CARE IT LOOKS BETTER THAN IT DID THE FIRST TIME

I'm pleased

#oc #sunan montri #gif #story #comic