[ The chopsticks slide out cleanly and with a wet plop sound. Extracted from the back of her skull like a knife through butter, the wound begins to clean itself up almost immediately. Beneath a tide of hair matted with blood, the skin folds over itself, becoming something new and whole.
There’s a hole in the back of her mouth, a whistle of air… and then there isn’t.
She’s back on her feet — if shakily, her body somewhat folded, pressure keeping her shoulders weak and slanted — in a matter of seconds.
Her mouth is full of blood. Without a second of hesitation, she spits it all on her hitchhiker’s dumb face, where it splatters wet and sticky and crimson. For a moment, she isn’t thinking that Charles is right there, privy to this display of her at her worst. She isn’t thinking much of anything. Her brain restricts and exhales in slow, meandering recovery. Her thoughts feel like snow across a disconnected TV screen. It takes her a second to remember her name. For a few moments, all she has is a weapon’s instinct; that, and a deep and red-hot loathing for the version of her standing in front of her.
The mannequin pushes forward on a foot for the second attack. Again, Kimiko does her best to stand in front of it; to take the blow she knows Charles can’t. ]
no subject
There’s a hole in the back of her mouth, a whistle of air… and then there isn’t.
She’s back on her feet — if shakily, her body somewhat folded, pressure keeping her shoulders weak and slanted — in a matter of seconds.
Her mouth is full of blood. Without a second of hesitation, she spits it all on her hitchhiker’s dumb face, where it splatters wet and sticky and crimson. For a moment, she isn’t thinking that Charles is right there, privy to this display of her at her worst. She isn’t thinking much of anything. Her brain restricts and exhales in slow, meandering recovery. Her thoughts feel like snow across a disconnected TV screen. It takes her a second to remember her name. For a few moments, all she has is a weapon’s instinct; that, and a deep and red-hot loathing for the version of her standing in front of her.
The mannequin pushes forward on a foot for the second attack. Again, Kimiko does her best to stand in front of it; to take the blow she knows Charles can’t. ]