redundead: (Default)
the og sword otherkin ([personal profile] redundead) wrote2015-07-06 06:33 pm

pines inbox.

retired.
sospita: ( entreri ) (ART // bleak.)

action.

[personal profile] sospita 2017-07-06 11:26 pm (UTC)(link)
[ so this is a thread for around that time where shirou is still in the hospital and is at least 30-40% swords but that's not going to stop juno from visiting him this time around. ]

I thought I told you not to do anything stupid.

[ pot. kettle.

juno managed to avoid the worst of the battle, by bullying a fellow capable of teleporting into his service. any scrapes and bruises are the result of his carelessness in acquiring a sniping position, grabbing the hands and arms and shoulders of those who were scared or in need. any of the wounds he's got are devoid of potatomonster infection - but shirou - shirou had gone headfirst into the midst of them. and now he was

swords.

there's really no other way to describe it.

he tugs one of the heavy, padded chairs over to the side of the hospital bed and settles in it, slouching down. and down further. ]


This is exactly what I meant by "stupid".
sospita: ( starboard ) (muse.)

[personal profile] sospita 2017-07-08 08:19 pm (UTC)(link)
[ his nephew-not-nephew is made of swords, and somehow, this comes as less a surprise to juno as the knowledge that this town is the last remaining bastion of humanity against a hoard of monstrosities in a dead or still-dying world. at least, when it came to mutated monstrosities, he'd had prior experience. a kid who bled swords was, uh. well, that was new and unexpected.

the nurses have shirou bound up and cared for as best that they can, he assumes; the way they've strung him up with wire and supported him on a metal tray makes juno a little queasy. there's no blood, but the injuries are still there, and the nature of them is still jarring enough that he can't quite focus on shirou's body. just his face. no, not even his face ( there's a scratch on his cheek, and the tips of tiny swords sticking out there ). just his eyes. ]


This is weird.

[ he agrees, without lying about it or mincing his words. it's weird. ]

You need anything?

[ he's careful, as he reaches out to press his fingers against the flat edge of one of the swords peeking out of shirou's body. the act is bold, inquisitive. it makes him sick to his stomach, and he jerks his hand back quicker than he can blink the wave of dizziness away. ] Extra dose of painkillers? Something to eat? They even fed you, yet?

[ this is ridiculous. he's goddamn hovering over this kid, and can't find the means to stop ]
sospita: ( starboard ) (tiring.)

[personal profile] sospita 2017-07-26 06:50 pm (UTC)(link)
[ the screeching nearly does him in - juno is a lady with a delicate constitution and this body horror is really, really making him uncomfortable. he feels his stomach flipflop, and nearly goes jibbery over it. ( praise him, he's holding it together for shirou. ) ]

So, you bleed. And also swords?

[ yes, that is the sentence structure he uses. so - explain this, because he's really trying to wrap his mind around it. the swords are real, he'd felt the flat of one under his fingertips, before he'd remembered how badly this entire situation was giving him the heebie-jeebies. this whole thing is - yeah, it's weird. ]

You know, I can get a nurse if you're in pain.
sospita: ( magpies ) (ART // II.)

[personal profile] sospita 2017-08-03 01:14 am (UTC)(link)
How many times has this happened to you?

[ can shirou even remember? their memories are faulty, in this place, prone to being twofold ( one lie, one truth: good luck figuring out which is which ) and he knows that if he can't trust certain recollections, shirou probably can't either. ]

You don't have to be.

[ "okay" ]

I wouldn't tell anybody, if you weren't.
sospita: ( starboard ) (considering.)

[personal profile] sospita 2017-11-15 11:51 pm (UTC)(link)
Ha. I've got you beat, there.

[ plenty of things have made attempts at eating him; a client or two, for the ratings. a beast made of rows and rows of grinding gears, like teeth that were ready to churn meat and bones into butter. a rabbit, once. that was before he'd learned how to deal with their ilk, through bribery. one of the monsters that had invaded the town, most recently, before he'd wedged his gun between his throat and its mouth, and blown enough holes in it to make it flinch back. that one, however, he wouldn't tell shirou. he wouldn't tell nureyev, either. nobody needed to know - he'd made it out fine, after all.

shirou reflects on something, and juno tries to reach for that wandering, still-flesh hand of his before it hits blade, before it is cut up as well. he's too little, too late, but he stuffs his fingers into the palm of shirou's hand all the same and tugs it away from the network of swords that poke through his injuries. the blood, in this volume, doesn't make him as woozy, but the feel of it pooling - warm and slick - forces him to lower his head for a moment, tucking his face between his knees.

he doesn't let go of shirou's hand. ]


Don't... make it twice, then. [ what the HELL is this kid ] I need you around.

[ juno tugs on shirou's hand, trying to draw his attention. trying to drag him out of his own head. ]

I've known a lot of people who've... died and gotten hurt, I don't want that happening to you. Not on my watch.

[ 'killed', though. now he looks painfully uncomfortable ]