Fallen angels in the night
Characters: Yuca Collabell (neverquitedies) and Kurotsuchi Mayuri (law_of_reason)
When: Tuesday afternoon
Where: Kurotsuchi's residence
Rating: R for gore and- well. Them.
Summary: Yuca was not blessed with perfect wings. They're white, feathery, and rotting horribly. After trying- and failing- to cut them off himself, he makes it down to everyone's favorite scientist to amputate them.
Like so many times before, Yuca's appearance is heralded by a knock on Kurotsuchi's door. However, unlike so many times in the past, his posture isn't perfectly straight, he doesn't have that air of dignity about him, and he's not calm, by any measure of the word. He didn't want to come here, didn't want to subject himself to Kurotsuchi's madness, didn't want to leave his seeded flowers, but there was hardly another option. The wings had to come off, and the scientist was the only person Yuca knew with the tools (much less the knowledge) to remove them.
Part of him was offended at the latest development in Adstringendum. This... bastardization of religion, of God, making everyone leap around and fly, like no human was meant to do. And him- why had he been punished, when so many others had prospered from this event? Why was he given the wings of an angel, but with so much pain and suffering attached to them? He couldn't help but wonder, vaguely, if it were somehow connected to his own sins- but really, that was a silly thought. This was the Animus' doing, not God's. If God had any say in this, Yuca would never get wings.
If you could even call them that. Yuca's wings were massive, probably capable of supporting his own weight, and completely limp, trailing against the ground alongside one another. One was slightly crooked, and by looking at his back, it was obvious as to why. Bandages wrapped around the base, blood still oozing out of it, staining the entire back of his shirt, and still managing to drip to the ground a little- Yuca had tried to cut it off himself, just hours earlier.
Even so, his wings would have been beautiful- angelic, even, if not for the fact that they were rotting, as if attached to a dead bird rather than a living human. Feathers were missing in large chunks, black clumps of flesh barely hanging on to them, a sluggish stream of blood staining the feathers red in places. It was painful- extremely painful. Yuca had had worse, of course (not much could top burning alive), but the culmination of the odd symbolic nature of his wings and the physical pain that accompanied them was too much to bear for his fragile psyche at this time.
And so, they had to go. He's trembling, but only barely, and it's more with the strain of the muscles in his back than it is out of any emotional insecurity. At this point, he could care less if Kurotsuchi studied them. He could care less if he was given a pain reliever. He just wanted them gone.
When: Tuesday afternoon
Where: Kurotsuchi's residence
Rating: R for gore and- well. Them.
Summary: Yuca was not blessed with perfect wings. They're white, feathery, and rotting horribly. After trying- and failing- to cut them off himself, he makes it down to everyone's favorite scientist to amputate them.
Like so many times before, Yuca's appearance is heralded by a knock on Kurotsuchi's door. However, unlike so many times in the past, his posture isn't perfectly straight, he doesn't have that air of dignity about him, and he's not calm, by any measure of the word. He didn't want to come here, didn't want to subject himself to Kurotsuchi's madness, didn't want to leave his seeded flowers, but there was hardly another option. The wings had to come off, and the scientist was the only person Yuca knew with the tools (much less the knowledge) to remove them.
Part of him was offended at the latest development in Adstringendum. This... bastardization of religion, of God, making everyone leap around and fly, like no human was meant to do. And him- why had he been punished, when so many others had prospered from this event? Why was he given the wings of an angel, but with so much pain and suffering attached to them? He couldn't help but wonder, vaguely, if it were somehow connected to his own sins- but really, that was a silly thought. This was the Animus' doing, not God's. If God had any say in this, Yuca would never get wings.
If you could even call them that. Yuca's wings were massive, probably capable of supporting his own weight, and completely limp, trailing against the ground alongside one another. One was slightly crooked, and by looking at his back, it was obvious as to why. Bandages wrapped around the base, blood still oozing out of it, staining the entire back of his shirt, and still managing to drip to the ground a little- Yuca had tried to cut it off himself, just hours earlier.
Even so, his wings would have been beautiful- angelic, even, if not for the fact that they were rotting, as if attached to a dead bird rather than a living human. Feathers were missing in large chunks, black clumps of flesh barely hanging on to them, a sluggish stream of blood staining the feathers red in places. It was painful- extremely painful. Yuca had had worse, of course (not much could top burning alive), but the culmination of the odd symbolic nature of his wings and the physical pain that accompanied them was too much to bear for his fragile psyche at this time.
And so, they had to go. He's trembling, but only barely, and it's more with the strain of the muscles in his back than it is out of any emotional insecurity. At this point, he could care less if Kurotsuchi studied them. He could care less if he was given a pain reliever. He just wanted them gone.