(no subject)
Day: 13 [back-dated]
Characters: Orochimaru, Paul
Summary: Paul needs stitches. Oro can give them.
DAY/NIGHT & Time: NIGHT: evening, right after this post.
Status: Closed, Incomplete
He was bleeding. He was bleeding and he couldn't believe it. The shock sat deep, made him speechless too often and made even his aggressive mockery shaky, made it crack too quickly under too little pressure. It made him look angrier, colder even, and certainly more dangerous, because now his stare wasn't occasionally but permanently manic, didn't just casually wander and lock on random targets, but search, challenge, because attack was the best defence.
Shit, he was bleeding. It was fucking everywhere, and how could he even bleed? He'd gotten his own clothes back (thankfully, he would have thought if he had ever any time to see the good things), and they were stained red. Not as terribly as they could have been, but every drop, every stain of blood pierced him with something like cold panic, but more feral. This couldn't happen, not to him, and he wasn't supposed to bleed-
This little shit. This crazy, stupid, sneaky, bothersome little shit, he thought. He'd teach him, he'd show him, he'd beat the shit out of that whiny asshole Gary and then he'd go after Anubis, and then- Gary was unimportant, didn't matter.
Gary, god damn it. Gary who had shouted him down. And what Paul hated Gary more for, more than for shouting and complaining and being angry and being there - where Gary was angry and scared and ANGRY and hurt, all kinds of excited, he was just frozen, numb with only that fast-paced, ominous throbbing in his temple. It wasn't fear, but it was a haunting, chasing sound, an indication of all things he couldn't stop. He'd felt helpless before, powerless even, and the last time when he had died. Never since then, and this was maddening.
That was it. Maddening. He was the ghost; he haunted people, drove them into madness. It wasn't possible, it wasn't natural that something would go after the top predator, and if, when it did, he didn't know what to do.
Paul wiped the back of his hand over his temple and cheek and twisted his face into an expression of disgust and annoyance. He was bleeding worst there, from that gash along his forehead and temple, down to his ear, where that gorilla, that ugly freak, had slammed his head against the wall, hard enough to make his knees give in and his eyes unable to focus on anything for long seconds. He was bleeding from somewhere in his stomach, too, stabbed with a pair of fucking lower arm bones, but it didn't bother him because of the damage that could have been done. No, it bothered him because it hurt, it hurt and he couldn't stop it, and he hated pain. Hated it enough to clench his teeth in sheer, powerless anger, and hell, why wouldn't it stop when he wanted it to?
He tried to make it stop, tried to force it to stop all the way to Orochimaru's office, but it didn't, of course, and so he entered with a sour expression, too angry and annoyed and uncomfortable and disturbed (yes, he was - he was lost and didn't know what to do if he couldn't force something) to even greet the doctor.
Characters: Orochimaru, Paul
Summary: Paul needs stitches. Oro can give them.
DAY/NIGHT & Time: NIGHT: evening, right after this post.
Status: Closed, Incomplete
He was bleeding. He was bleeding and he couldn't believe it. The shock sat deep, made him speechless too often and made even his aggressive mockery shaky, made it crack too quickly under too little pressure. It made him look angrier, colder even, and certainly more dangerous, because now his stare wasn't occasionally but permanently manic, didn't just casually wander and lock on random targets, but search, challenge, because attack was the best defence.
Shit, he was bleeding. It was fucking everywhere, and how could he even bleed? He'd gotten his own clothes back (thankfully, he would have thought if he had ever any time to see the good things), and they were stained red. Not as terribly as they could have been, but every drop, every stain of blood pierced him with something like cold panic, but more feral. This couldn't happen, not to him, and he wasn't supposed to bleed-
This little shit. This crazy, stupid, sneaky, bothersome little shit, he thought. He'd teach him, he'd show him, he'd beat the shit out of that whiny asshole Gary and then he'd go after Anubis, and then- Gary was unimportant, didn't matter.
Gary, god damn it. Gary who had shouted him down. And what Paul hated Gary more for, more than for shouting and complaining and being angry and being there - where Gary was angry and scared and ANGRY and hurt, all kinds of excited, he was just frozen, numb with only that fast-paced, ominous throbbing in his temple. It wasn't fear, but it was a haunting, chasing sound, an indication of all things he couldn't stop. He'd felt helpless before, powerless even, and the last time when he had died. Never since then, and this was maddening.
That was it. Maddening. He was the ghost; he haunted people, drove them into madness. It wasn't possible, it wasn't natural that something would go after the top predator, and if, when it did, he didn't know what to do.
Paul wiped the back of his hand over his temple and cheek and twisted his face into an expression of disgust and annoyance. He was bleeding worst there, from that gash along his forehead and temple, down to his ear, where that gorilla, that ugly freak, had slammed his head against the wall, hard enough to make his knees give in and his eyes unable to focus on anything for long seconds. He was bleeding from somewhere in his stomach, too, stabbed with a pair of fucking lower arm bones, but it didn't bother him because of the damage that could have been done. No, it bothered him because it hurt, it hurt and he couldn't stop it, and he hated pain. Hated it enough to clench his teeth in sheer, powerless anger, and hell, why wouldn't it stop when he wanted it to?
He tried to make it stop, tried to force it to stop all the way to Orochimaru's office, but it didn't, of course, and so he entered with a sour expression, too angry and annoyed and uncomfortable and disturbed (yes, he was - he was lost and didn't know what to do if he couldn't force something) to even greet the doctor.