[THREAD] all the colors gonna rot off your sight when we're around

[pastafucking]

Who: Giovanni (pastafucking) and Heine (siegheine)
Where: Abyss; the apartment Heine 'borrowed.'
When: Around 2 in the morning.
Summary: The 'brothers' meet again.
Rating: R.

Comments

[pastafucking]

"She wants you-" Giovanni doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence before his kneecaps his bones are splitting and shattering, pieces of bone slicing out from his skin and the pain bringing him down weak to the floor, gun falling from Heine's throat to his chest but he's still holding it up still keeping the threat - I'll do it again (I'd do it forever) - "She wants you back even if you don't remember. You're her favorite, you're still her favorite. And judging by your reactions-" He coughs, spits, and when he looks down he sees the knees of his pants are ripped and bloody but underneath, his flesh is almost healed. The muzzle of Giovanni's gun presses into Heine's sternum and it's not very much of a threat (can't kill him can't even scratch but you can't kill him anyway Giovanni you can't kill her favorite-) but even then he's keeping it there, and he lunges in a gesture more feral than he usually allows himself to be: he's holding Heine down and keeping the gun steady and his fingers are playing long and thin across and around Heine's throat, between the skin and muscles and arteries, pressing hard but not hard enough. "You're still as skilled as you ever were; you're still the best."

[siegheine]

Oh but he's ready for it; he's the best child, after all, and long before Giovanni finishes talking his bonesmusclestendonsinews are all healed up all knitted and Heine lashes out at the blonde (handsfingers wrapping around the hand wrapped around his throat and he doesn't hold back, it's never going to be hard enough for him).

The words the sounds from the white-haired male is more animal than human, now, all hissgrowlspitsnarl and the voice chantinglaughing killkillkill in his head it hurts he wants to get this shit over with and blood is seeping stickythick through the torn jacket of his back, matting his white hair to sick dark brownred. His mauser is somewhere, he'd dropped it somewheresometime after the crunching of wrist and arm (there's no use anymore) but the other is still clutched hard in his hand and he lifts it up to press the muzzle hard against the underside of Giovanni's chin. "I'll kill you." He says again, feeling the other's gun digging into his chest (it would have been almost painful, but his blood sings as he simply tightens his grip on both the other's hand the shinysmooth metal of the gun and digs in harder).

[pastafucking]

Maybe this isn't the result Heine wanted - or maybe it is or maybe he doesn't care - but Giovanni feels this weighty-weightless dizzy sensation in his head (from loss of blood or from something else) as the gun's pressed up against his throat and it's digging into the bone of his jaw, making his vision shake making every object in the room quiver and tremble - and he chuckles. At Heine's threat, he chuckles. Wouldn't that be too convenient? Ha ha, dying. It's a fantasy too far away to entertain.

And then the image of her flickers into his mind - just a still frame, lock of hair and sharp white teeth and filed nails ('bringhimbackforme') - that sends a spark of pain up up through his spine, makes his head ache. (yesmotheryesmother)

"Not yet," he says. Maybe someday. Not now. Giovanni pushes up over in an attempt to push Heine away; he's rearing his arm back and before he can think about Heine's gun going off - but there's a fast flick-thought of his skull splitting open and his blood painting the wall behind them (not yet I said) - and it's like they're children again left without weapons (the weapons are you, you are the weapons) because Giovanni's fist's slamming into Heine's face-nose-mouth.

[siegheine]

The knuckles connecting to thinskinmusclebone (a sickening crunch as something strains, then finally gives under the force) and Heine feels the bright whiteredhot wetness spreading across his face. His eyes widen, his hands slackening with the momentary shock of it and the gun held in his hand goes spinningskidding clakclakclak over the floor with the sudden movement.

His eyes sting with the smoke and he can hardly see with the bloodbonepain burning his face raw, but the voice in him (the beast in him) snarls and laughs with his mouth, and it's his hand that's grabbing a handful of that fucking jacket (wellwellwell you're sure a fucking expensive little piece of shit aren't ya) and brings his knee up, the sharp bone connecting with the other's stomach (just where the hard ribs begin, counting onetwothreefour I'll gnaw the meat from the bones) to flipoverthrowoff Giovanni of him to the wall behind them.

this tag got stupidly long dude i'm sorry

[pastafucking]

As soon as his knuckles make impact he's aching to do it again - wants to fist his hands in Heine's hair and slam his skull down into the floor again again again again until there's nothing left until his face's mangled and the blood's in waves - (can't do that though can you giovanni) but he's cocking his gun and he doesn't even get a chance to fire it before he feels his jacket being tugged on and then sharp-dull pain in his stomach, the crunch of ribs snapping. (ha ha ha think you're so quick heine don't you think so yeah i bet you do) As he's being flung back to the wall he keeps his grip on his gun keeps his finger on the trigger and the back of his head slams against the wall and he's seeing dizzy, feeling nauseous; finger's on the trigger and then finger's pulling the trigger, aimed towards Heine's head but that isn't where it'll end up.

Giovanni chokes, spits blood onto the floor, feels blood matting in his hair, and behind his glasses his eyes are clenched shut - hurts too much can't think - and she's there just like she always is. He can feel her fingers on his collar, her breath warm tickling his ear. (Get up and fight-) And he tries, he bites his lip and pulls himself up and before he can even plan out his attack (-you trash) he's flying forward and bam! bam! bam! bullets into Heine, into his chest into his stomach - but his gun's out of ammo now and there's more in his jacket but he doesn't give a fuck, just uses his hands bloodied knuckles ragged fingernails and he's acting out the scene in his mind: fingers twisted in Heine's hair and pulling up and then slamming back down- fuck you fuck you fuck you (Is he trying to kill Heine, now? Giovanni doesn't know.)

shut up bro it's all cool

[siegheine]

It fucking hurts (all three finding their target puncturing lungs and breaking bones severing nerves) and his body's hurtingbreaking faster than it can heal (he just needs a minute, less than a minute, to get himself together ha ha ha ha pretty fucking literally, master). But even before he can choke out the bullets there're fingers coiling tightly in his hair and Heine gags on the acrid taste of metal pellets working against his throat (the rush of coppery tang would be nauseous if he wasn't so used to it by now).

Dimly, there's a completely unrelated thought (didn't know there could be so much blood between the two of them, it's covering the floors leaving smearstreaked on the walls it's kind of even amazing they're even still moving but they weren't exactly human, were they) and he grabs one of Giovanni's wrists again; it's the one he'd broken only minutes before - the flesh is still tender under his torn gloved palm but that doesn't stop him, doesn't stop Heine from wrapping his fingers around it tight and breaking the elbow joint of that same arm again, the upward chop of his other hand bendingsnappingsplintering the elbow backwards. With the same motion, Heine's fist connects with Giovanni's chin, rolling them both over on the floor (they're all covered in blood now playing in blood now their clothes are so dirtyrippedshottattered mother would be so very pleased she would be pleased)