In Leo's defense, it sounds like a cacophany of screeches--
But yeah! Siren song! That's a new feature. Inspired by Stranger Things, music can actually help infected calm down. For lower class Kraang, it's their way of communication and connection. They check in on each other, they care about each other. Which higher ups...are not a big fan of... ;)
(please mind the tags! Paris belongs to @battle-subway-ghost part 1 here)
My panting is steadily returning to a normal pace. It's strange, my body always feels as though it's running faster than my mind, yet I always feel the most rational.
Dimly lit moonlight highlighted the blood seeping into my clothes and the ground around me. Revolting. I look like such a mess right now, and the horrible sticky feeling won't leave my hands until I properly wash them.
It should've been expected from cutting Taura's neck, same with that audible gurgling, like the sound of water being boiled, air escaping from the viscous blood pooling from her split neck. Practical, it never alerted anyone quick enough to catch him.
Of course.
The exhilarating rush that was powering my movements and thoughts is waning.
"…" Now there's some other annoyance to pay attention to, just barely out sight. The intruder. Honestly, I didn't think I'd be seeing him so soon, he should've been doing everything in his power to avoid me.
Paris is trembling, he looks like he might collapse beneath his own weight. Wholly unnatural for Paris, he never looked anything like that before, mouth agape and eyes wide. Frozen in place. Small. Pathetic.
My grip tightens.
He shouldn't live to see this. Witnesses would just cause more problems. I shouldn't risk being caught. Paris isn't unique. Others who happened to be there when I killed died too. He should have known how dangerous it was. It wasn't like he was oblivious. Paris read the reports, he should be considered lucky for that alone. If he didn't want to die he wouldn't be wandering around at midnight. It's not like Paris would even care. He would want this. This would be a favor. I don't need any justifications to not kill someone. Maybe then he would finally understand the vile person I am. Maybe then he could rethink.
…There isn't any point to it if he can't think about it. Pathetic Idiot. Drawn to danger as always.
I step forward. - Correction. I try to step forward, Taura's body is in the way. Acting as an impassable barrier.
"You're Late."
Maybe if he had arrived just a few minutes prior he would've been able to stop this death. He's unable to save even one person, and now watching me with that terrified look on his face.
Paris's body began to convulse, the sounds of violent gagging fill the night air, desperately trying to regurgitate the contents of his stomach. Revolting. You aren't accomplishing anything by doing that. Not even a defiant glare.
Instead he's writhing on the ground, struggling to breath through pained gasps. …Doing it so fast just makes it worse, you should know this by now. It's not like him to panic like this, to act like he's afraid of dying for once.
Not only that but vomiting so close to a dead
"You're Being Imprudent, Acting So Disrespectful."
The blood is dripping down to my chin now, slowly crawling down my clothes and hands. It makes my hands feel anxious, like they should be moving and doing something right now. I know what I should do, logically. He's completely defenseless, he's struggling to pick himself up. I know that he's panicking without having to look at him. Right now he probably couldn't kill me even if he tried.
There's a pause, Paris trying to lift himself up off the ground. He's breathing like mad, gasping as if he's trying to get drunk off of the air around him. I can see the fear and desperation in his eyes, whether that's directed at me or Taura's corpse is unknown to me.
Paris almost falls all the way backwards trying to run away, running as fast as he can away from the scene, nearly tripping several times in his panic induced sprint.
He's acting afraid of death.
Am I relieved by that? Relieved by the fact he has a will to live now?
I don't want to chase him, I want him to live a life that's his more than I want to kill him.
...I don't know why I'm thinking these things. This is nonsense, all it has to be explained as is as a whim, nothing more, that's what it was to begin with.
"Cocytus, Gwen. We're Moving, We Don't Have Much Time Until He Tells Someone." I motion to the darkness surrounding me, not waiting for the two responses, they would follow along like they always have.
good morning I woke up at 4:30am covered in sweat and chills.. it's now 8am and I've thrown up three times so far, I'm so tired and weak but why I lie down I start feeling nauseous again 😣
Synopsis: Dated May 20th. Tony gets a taste of American life as the boys trek through the strange landscape that is Virgina on their quest to find help to change the spell. Between culture shock, nostalgia, and the curse's grip on Tony; the first leg of their trip is a complicated one.
Without a stomach what would come out when Toshinori throws up?
I’ll put this under a read more for anyone with a sensitive stomach
It’d be fairly similar to when one vomits with a stomach. The main difference is that he may not have as much bile that’s associated with the stomach. His esophagus is directly connected to the small intestine, which leads to the large. When vomiting, there’d be intestinal mucous and other nasty things that may come up. (Some things you don’t want to think about).
For Toshinori however, vomiting would not only be difficult, but also incredibly painful. The muscles in his stomach and part of his diaphragm are undoubtedly gone or severely damaged given the intensity of his wounds. The remaining muscles would try to contract, the diaphragm would attempt to aid in adding pressure, but ultimately there’s not enough to push things up in an easy way. It may take longer than normal, only small amounts at a time while he catches his breath between spouts. If his body’s already exhausted by this point, perhaps pressing the heal of his hand where the muscles are missing may help aid and speed things up. But it’d also be near his scar, and undoubtedly painful to press so hard against.
So imagine feeling so incredibly nauseous to the point where you want to vomit to feel better, but also know that doing so would be a long, drawn out, exhausting, and painful ordeal in itself. Kinda gotta weigh the options, though the body doesn’t always give you one.
