(no subject)
[Phoneutria is still having no luck re-entering his room, and the unfortunate side effects of his escape are still lingering. Every time he speaks, it sounds much like it did after his first duel in the underground, when his voice was so raspy it nearly hurt to listen to.
He has found a nice, dark corner to lurk in, in a relatively uninhabited part of the building, and has one hand on his scar and the other on his forehead. He's still trying to figure out why, this time, death was different.
After all, he had always been able to get away with not playing by the rules.]
He has found a nice, dark corner to lurk in, in a relatively uninhabited part of the building, and has one hand on his scar and the other on his forehead. He's still trying to figure out why, this time, death was different.
After all, he had always been able to get away with not playing by the rules.]