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girlybruiser) wrote2025-03-06 01:50 am
girlybruiser) wrote2025-03-06 01:50 am
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no subject
My, what a noble force indeed. The Phantom Thieves truly are just and without flaw. A paragon of group dynamics and morality.
[ There's a sharp, mocking edge to an almost bored tone. He ignores her second statement. The phone barely registers as an item in his hand, his fingers are typing aimlessly as ever.
But he isn't moving that much.
Doesn't say one way or the other. She can investigate or keep herself up thinking about it.
...
He stretches his legs out and does nothing to muffle the rustle of blankets. ]
no subject
Her lips press into a thin line, biting her inner lip to refrain from an emotional retort.
In the dark corner, a forgotten plant sits in its pot, having not seen sunlight or been watered in god knows how long. She had made a note to take a look at it in the morning, but for now, she's forgotten about it, unaware of the roots trying to crawl its way out of the soil, inching toward Akechi from behind.
Then it stops, slinking back into the pot. ]
We never hurt anyone the way Kamoshida or the others did.
[ She shouldn't have brought up her father, but how dare he even speak of him again afterโ
A leaf rustles in the dark, but it's muffled by the creaking of the bed as Haru sits up proper, the covers released from her grip for a moment. ]
What has Father everโ [ A shuddering breath and she slips back under the covers, turning over. ] Goodnight, Akechi-kun.
no subject
A glance around the room reveals nothing more than a residual line of dirt on the ground, its origin from a dead plant in the corner.
This place is a rural shithole. He must have missed how dirty the floor was after the shock of seeing Noir in the space with him.
She's quiet. So is he. The world settles around them - he can hear others moving about their rooms, sleeping and snoring, the sound of nature through a cracked window. ]
Manipulating in reality or manipulating a heart in secret - I wonder which one causes more pain.
[ Quiet, and not - he isn't trying to wake her. Doubts she's asleep already and-
The next passes quick as ever. Breakfast. A trial. The waters get muddier with every accusation and victim impact statement. The jury remains deadlocked. The night goes by calm enough. Rising tension, few words shared - he's interested in thinking about the case and she isn't someone he wants to bounce his thoughts off of.
The third day -
The third night -
He lays on a dirty floor, in a shitty inn, with the same stifling air as ever. ]
I didn't think this affair would be so extensive. What an indecisive group.
no subject
It's a punishment. It has to be. The sins of her father, likely. Maybe what's why his imposter appeared in April, ready to strike her down when she chose to abandon him yet again.
Haru hasn't fallen asleep or made an attempt yet, uncomfortably accustom to Akechi's night owl ritual, but also uncomfortably guilty he's been made to sleep on the floor this whole time.
Even with a pillow and a spare sheet, it feels unkind. Maybe she should offer the bed this one night andโ
Her hand traces underneath her pillow, feeling the handle of the kitchen knife she stashed from breakfast earlier. It's not like her to traipse into paranoia, though the lack of sleep is finally starting to get to her, and the constant mockery coming from the other side of the room when she attempts niceties, and the very obvious fact Akechi has his weapon somewhere on him.
She looks over at the window, Dolph's reminder coming to mind. ]
Hm? [ Oh, he's talking again. In the dead of night. Again. She's been scribbling away in a journal, working on her cafe, but needs a moment to take a deep breath in. ] Ah, yes... but if we do not come to a verdict, the victim will be forced to testify again if there's a retrial, correct?
[ And her heart goes out to the victim, almost instinctively. Who should have to go through such an ordeal again and again?
A little too close to home. ]
no subject
Victim. I find that more difficult to believe day by day. Don't tell me you're falling for such a pathetic story?
no subject
The victim's story has never faltered. It's been consistent this whole time, even though they hid information to begin with.
[ She puts aside her notebook. ]
It's understandable, really. They've been through so much.
no subject
[ The victim's story hasn't changed once. Akechi watches them paint themself as a long suffering bystander. Haru's correct they've been consistent. Almost too much. A person's story naturally falters, changes, and twists with nerves, constant recitation and cross examination.
If they're telling the truth, it's harmless little differences that fall from their mouth. Someone holding their bag instead of placing it on the table. Using a right hand versus left one. Ordering a different meal, leaving at a slightly different hour.
Where she finds comfort, he finds fault. They've been through so much- as if he cares.
Akechi pushes himself up to sit, one arm loose around a bent knee and looks up at her. ]
Their sob story doesn't matter. If they're only following orders from a boss or organization, they are not a victim. The arsonist may have been set up by them all and a victory here may embolden the victim to do this scheme again.
no subject
She knows that look in the victim's eyes too well. She once carried that pain, the heavy burden of defeat, accepting she was powerless to defy her own fate and those who would lord their power and privilege over her. ]
An imperfect victim is still such: a victim. Even if they were following orders, coercion may have taken place.
[ Her head cants to the side, avoiding his gaze as she adds: ]
Aside from that, even those who may not feel they have been coerced may not have made those decisions had they not been manipulated in the first place.
[ Doesn't he understand?, she asks herself.
There's a mirror in front of him, but he's refusing to look at its reflection.
It makes her sad for him, but also... strangely vexed, enough for her fingers to start digging into the bed as she shifts her weight. ]
no subject
It wouldn't bother him if he was alone. He could bear it. Deal with it. Sitting in a room isn't even a punishment.
But he isn't alone - he's with her. It's not Akira. No one from Machiya. Not even someone he's accustomed to from this world.
She's new. Unwelcome. The opposite of her father in every way. Someone that pushes back and tries.
He can't stand it and -
It's in a sweltering, cramped room that he hears the implication in her words. He's not ignorant. The sympathy the thieves have for any perceived victim is their biggest Achilles heel. Akechi is an aggressor, not a victim. An argument can be made otherwise for the permanently scarred person on the stand day after day.
She looks away. He doesn't falter. ]
Is that a tenant of the Phantom Thieves? Assume coercion - that everyone is pushed into a corner and reacts because of it? [ He scoffs. Throws a hand up in a dramatic gesture. ] It's easier to delude yourself into thinking ill intent comes second to manipulation, I suppose. Which makes me wonder -
[ It's the heat. It's a small room. His voice becomes light and airy. Sounds almost thoughtful, despite the vicious words that follow. ]
Did you blame Shido for your father's own cruelties too? Or is there someone else I'm unaware of?
no subject
Her legs slide off the side of the bed, closer to the window. She gets up, moving toward it to try and open as far as it'll pry, but stops short when he brings up her father again.
Haru swallows, turning to look at Akechi. A bead of sweat trickles down her neck. ]
This is not about Father.
[ Her voice is level still. ]
Father made his choices... cruel, selfish choices. My choice was to no longer look away from the pain he caused.
[ How can someone so intelligent lack self-awareness? She doesn't believe it for a second. Akechi Goro is no fool. ]
The choices you made, Akechi-kun, did not simply happen. While I do not forgive you for what you did to my father, to Futaba-chan's mother, or to any of us, you were Shido's victim as well.
no subject
Choices were made.
As always.
Okumura.Akechi Goro.
The Phantom Thieves.The Detective Prince.
No hands are clean.
It's hot. Suffocating. Sweat pools at the collar of his shirt.
She opened her eyes.Everything's okay in the eyes of a princess who wants for nothing and-
The choices he made were his own. The life he cultivated is his own.It's funny.
Too funny. So funny he can't - doesn't - barely covers up bubbling laughter in the back of his throat with his own stunned voice.
How kind of thieves, of this girl, of this nobody-
How open-minded. How noble. How sweet a gesture to wipe away every single moment he's ripped free with his own two hands, his own work, his own goals and desires. It's him.
It's him. He is not a victim.
They really will do anything to ignore the muck and rot in front of their eyes.How shocking for her in particular - someone almost pulled down into its depths. He wonders if her fiance sees her as a victim.
He's by her side before he can think. The broken latch on a half open window is where his hand splays, but he doesn't try to open it.
No, let her be trapped with a victim. There's no mercy in her tone. No forgiveness. He never wanted it to begin with. It may be the only time he's agreed with her.
He doesn't make a move to attack - only traps her in that small space between window and bed. Stares her down and waits. ] It's how you all operate - I shouldn't be surprised.
[ Voice light. So light. Pitch higher than normal as he speaks and- ]
Everyone's a victim of a distorted heart. Everyone's a victim of their circumstance. So called aggressors are put on a website and you take action as the heroes of the hour. Only one side of the story matters and it's what make you all seem like a paragon of justice.
[ It's so goddamn funny. ]
I wonder how many people utilized your delusion against you or how many lives were destroyed for the sake of your own half-hearted justice? In the end, you're no better than anyone else who wants to feed their own ego. Perhaps you should be a politician, Okumura-san.
cw: violence & death
They trawled through an entire Palace, Mementos and other cognitive spaces together, with a shared goal. Even if they didn't see eye-to-eye, Akechi and the Phantom Thieves could put aside their differences to do something that was right, even if Akechi may have had his own agenda.
"Let's make a deal, okay? You won't say no, will you?"
"Change Shido's heart... In my stead... End his crimes."
A fleeting moment, even if one of weakness, but a shared moment that she thought they all connected and understood each other, finally. ]
We would never do such a thing! We always decided as a group. We alwaysโ
[ She blinks, Akechi is suddenly standing in front of her, mere inches away.
Haru startles quietly, nowhere to back into but the small windowsill. A hand reaches up to grasp the neckline of her dress, trying not to allow it to shake before Akechi, but her eyes betray her all too easily.
She's forgotten how tall he is compared to her friends. Yusuke might be the tallest in their group, but his figure never cut an imposing sight, and certainly not in the manner she knew the true Akechi Goro is capable of.
Her heart is pounding in her chest, stomach stirring with nausea as she realizes in this small room, she's alone with him. None of her friends have a solid idea of where she is in Stellari. She's alone, with the boy who readily pulled a gun on the fake Okumura, as if second nature, firing without so much as batting an eyelash in front of her, then left her there stained with her father's blood.
She thinks of Akira and Maruki, her device left on the bed, tries not to allow fear to drive her to desperation yet. ]
Please stay away from me.
no subject
[ But he knew that. Told Shido as much. The Phantoms Thieves are nothing without their illustrious leader. Will do nothing without his commands. Talk and talk and talk until they realize they can't stand on his back and add that weight to his world. Talk and talk and talk until they have to hold their own ground.
He stays fixed to his spot and continues to speak. It would be all too easy to make the first move. Far more satisfying to wait, provoke and watch people fall to depths they never intended to do be in.]
To think someone like you awoke in that world - what a waste you are. Keep cowering in that corner until someone saves you, I suppose. It's all you're good for.
no subject
It's an immediate reaction; alone in the room, no Akira or any of the other Thieves to rescue her like they had done before. No Maruki to reach when her device is strewn across the bed, further from her reach.
Her mind darts to the knife stashed underneath the pillowโ
And she realizes, he knows.
He knows it's there.
It's the closest to their side. She only needs maybe a second and she can grab itโ
The sinking feeling in her stomach worsens. Insides churning, making her want to double over, but she keeps her gaze trained on him, trying not to allow tears to well up in her eyes as he degrades her verbally.
"This is the only value you had from the beginning."
Back then, she faltered when her father's true feelings were revealed. A commodity she was, only to be used and tossed aside when done.
A waste.
No.
She takes a shuddering breath, shifting her stance and squaring shoulders with him.
"I can finally display my true strength."
Milady's words reverberating in her mind, a promise of real power, awakened to by her and her alone.
Not Akira. Not the Thieves. Haru reached her potential on her own.
Her Persona was a reflection of her true self, the daughter of Okumura who saved herself from the birdcage she had been placed in. She tore through those bars through her own will of rebellion.
... she had never been so powerless.
He wants her to react. He wants to see her break down into something weaker than what she truly is.
But Okumura Haru has faced far worse then Akechi Goro.
The nausea fades then, a white hot anger that quickly rises, coursing up through her chest, into her neck and she stops inching for the pillow, her hand suddenly swerving up at Akechi, palm flat as she slaps him as hard as she can across his face. ]
Stop it!
cw: VIOLENCE, FIGHT
It's why he looks into the eyes of Masayoshi Shido and sees a corpse on his last legs. Killing is simple. Quick. Mindless. It's freedom in an unknown world and the shadows that curl up his legs in their last throes of life bring him endless pleasure. The assassinations are satisfying, but less unenjoyable than ripping a life apart with his own hands.
Haru's tension, her budding anger, the way she gives into the rot -
It's why he lies in wait to end the life of the man who gave it to him. Taking someone down with him - for a second, he feels joy from the sting of her palm. Fleeting. Brief. He doesn't bother to grasp what he knows he can't keep. The sensation lingers with the ache against his cheek. Dies when it starts to numb. Akechi can't stand it.
Can't stand her, the thieves, the people here -
Everyone in this shit world is nothing more than an irritating pest.
There's a gun. There's a knife. There are two knives if he counts her hidden one.
But nothing is unleashed on her - what sort of victim would use a weapon, after all. It's self-defense. It's to protect himself. He couldn't do anything but force her back with his own two hands.
So he laughs.
Twisted, cruel and wild - leaking with a malice an entire world couldn't hold. ]You piece of shit.
[ Exhaled out, raspy - it's almost impossible to keep his voice down, but he tempers it anyway.
Reaches for the collar of her shirt, a clump of hair and moves to shove her against the window as hard as he can. He hopes it cracks. He hopes her skull shatters in the process.
It's not like he can kill her in a hotel room. Wouldn't anyway. He only wants to make a point. ]
If it's a fight you want, I suggest you think carefully about the outcome first. It would be a shame if Akira stumbled on the corpse of a friend, after all.
CW: VIOLENCE/VIOLENCE AGAINST WOMEN, BLOOD, ETC.
And maybe she does, but she is not as nimble as he is and there's barely space for her to break past before she feels his fingers entangle in her curls, loose and frizzy due to humidity, their perfect styling barely managed in this heat.
It hurts. Her hands shoot up to grab at his wrist, a pained whining in her throat, but before she can attempt to pull his hand away from her hair, he's got her shirt as well and she feels her head smash hard into the window.
There's a light crack of the glass, the sound louder in her ear as she's pushed against it. The ajar window budges slightly, the collision knocking some dust from the ledge onto them both from above.
She screams.
It's loud and shrill enough that someone may hear it in the room over, that is, if someone is occupying the room.
Panic floods every nerve in her body as she struggles against Akechi, as he too easily overpowers her in that moment she allowed herself to let her guard down, forgetting as the Thieves had learned almost the hard way with Akechi Goro:
We can't trust him.
Do not let your guard down around Akechi.
The fake smiles, media faรงade, the soft-spoken words of a liar, a traitor, a murderer. Shido Masayoshi's attack dog.
The fear that rushes her seizes her thoughts, mind in disarray while she attempts to figure out a way to get him to release her.
It slips out instinctively, loudly, angrily: ]
Let go of me!
[ Nails scratch and dig as hard as they can into Akechi's hand atop her head, the other releasing his hand on her shirt and pushing against his chest. She screams again, but doesn't call for help.
He's enjoying this all to much. He wants her to prove she's powerless.
Haru keeps her eyes shut, trying to quiet her mind, quiet the terror that something terrible might happen to her in this room tonight.
She could beckon Milady and end it all with one shot, but she knows it's a risky endeavour when there are others from jury duty in this hotel. She hears people walking down the hallway through the door, oblivious to any commotion in the room, as they laugh loudly and drunkenly, and then their footsteps disappear.
It hits her then, sobering her up: she can only face this alone. There will be no one to come for her. No white knight in shining armour on a horse, or a heroine of justice, like in her fantasies or shows.
It's just her.
And the knife she stashed when she began to realize Akechi would attempt something against her.
She manages to push back, exercising force from her shoulders as she's always had to do when moving bags of fertilizer around the school on her own. Just enough to get close enough to the pillow and feel for the handle of the knife.
She pulls it out.
No time to think. No time to hesitate.
Now or never.
Haru's slams the knife into his right shoulder. ]
CW CONT ALL FROM ABOVE JUST STOP LOOKING!!!!!!!!
He didn't scream.
She does.
And the sound is melodious in its agony - mixes with his own delighted laughter in that second. For only a second. A twisted vile glee fills him for a second. He feels full for a second.It vanishes in two.
It always does.He can't feel it. Can.
It never does.
Marks burn. Pulse wild and erratic in his own ears, against his ribs. It's only a second. Feels like longer.This family looks their best when they're completely and utterly miserable. She's lucky Shido sees no value in her life. Who cares what a little puppet does - it dances no matter who's holding the strings.
And Akechi's holding them. And Akechi feels them. And Akechi has thick strands clumped together in his palm that he tugs upwards. To make her move. To force her cheek along the cracked web.
He hopes it hurts. Feels it hurt. He feels something hurt and -
The handle sticks out - appears with a burning, sudden jolt in the corner of his eye and it doesn't look any different than a marionette's limb.
And a puppet that chooses its life, its fate, is no pawn at all. He chooses it. He's no pawn. No he's no victim. It doesn't matter if his body is covered in strings that he allows others to pull.
His fingers rip free from her hair and wrap around the wrist holding the handle of a blade embedded him. She's rotten. He wants to see - more than ever. Wants to hold it there, more than ever. ] You should have gone through the throat. Don't you know it's a poor choice to give your enemy the chance to strike back?
no subject
She stifles another painful objection in her throat, wincing as she feels his fingers tighten around the skin, around delicate bone that she knows he could snap if he really wanted.
She stops flailing against him, chest rising up and down with each and every hard, laboured breath. Face red and heated, and sweat glistening across her face and neck, while she's forced to meet Akechi's gaze.
Full of frenzy, mania and glee.
Like a predator that's locked onto its prey, playing with its meal before delivering a final strike.
She knows this look.
Contemptuous and ugly, longing for only one thing that fills the apparent void in his heart: violence that settle matters.
She saw it when he revealed himself as the true culprit, the true Black Mask. Saw it again when he fought alongside them in Maruki's fake reality, ripping Shadows to shred just as effortlessly as she liked to do with her axe.
Right.
Her grip does not release from the knife's handle, locked as tightly as it can be. With all her gardening experience, ripping up roots with her bare hands comes rather easily for her, as it does holding onto the blade in place despite the pain signalling up her wrist as Akechi's hand continues to restrain hers.
Her other hand still presses to his chest, his heartbeat like a war drum, hers matching his pace now.
Haru's breath hitches as she shuts her eyes, her exhale jagged and slow, voice husky when she speaks. ]
How disgraceful.
[ Her voice is steady, laced with fervour that threatens to unravel as her fingers being to curl around the fabric of his neckline, nails scratching at his skin.
In a vanishing instant, her eyes flicker yellow.
You should know... that if you wish to strike, then you better strike first.
[ The adrenaline courses through her, enough to give her the steely courage to barrel into his body as hard as she can with the small distance between them. There's a window to keep her balanced, but opposite Akechi, he has nothing to support his taller frame as she uses her smaller one against him, shoulder turned to slam him into the bed behind. ]
no subject
The rest register as nothing more than ants. Haru is no exception. Her grazing fingers bite at his skin. She's a pest unworthy of being swat at. Her words -
Those words -
That look -
A flicker of rebellion in the heart of someone held down by a mask for too long. He sees it in Joker, at times. Nothing matches his feral, wild gaze in the midst of a bloodstained field, knife meeting sword, gun meeting blade. Nothing will ever make Akechi's heart race with a frenzied glee from a single look-
But this comes close.
Those words hit and sink deep into the pit of his stomach. The slam comes soon after. She's strong when she needs to be and his knees buckle from the force of her body, the sting of a blade digging deeper into his shoulder.
He doesn't let go - keeps her wrist in a vice during the tumble. He hopes it breaks. She'll have to slice his arm off to get him off. He'll never stop. ]
You worthless goddamn-!
[ It's too awkward to rip out the knife when they're tangled, him winded from the sudden blunt hit to his chest. But he has a blade hidden along his side and he gropes for it now. Tries to disguise the blatant attempt at a weapon by forcing his body upwards to roll them over, force her on her back against a far too uncomfortable bed. ]
The winner is the one who ends it in this particular game and you're woefully out of your league. I will always be one step ahead of you idiots!
no subject
Maybe there's a part of her that needs this.
It's not as elegant a battle as Noir would perform, but she doesn't have her axe on hand, nor is afforded any distance when their bodies are tangled against one another, hands grappling each other and nails scratching at any given opportunity.
It's vicious, but the thrum of her heart is oh so difficult to ignore.
He's needled at her for months now, from the very second they locked eyes in this world.
Every prick and
every cutโ
Cutting into her delicate skin, cutting over exposed wounds he refuses to give a chance to heal.
Words could never break her, but Haru has grown tired of his lazy, but sharp and poison-tipped words. Now was the time for action. Defiance.
Maybe Akechi needed to be taught a lesson in grace. ]
Ah!
[ She can't maintain her grip on the handle anymore, not as long as he practically crushes the circulation out of her wrist. She can feel it numbing quickly now, but before she can attempt to pry it away from him, she finds herself thrown against the bed.
The ceiling behind Akechi's frenzied face spins, she's delirious, panicked when he has the vantage point. Her curls fall against her face, blurring her vision for a moment.
Her head tilts to see where her communicator is, but as she reaches for it, her hand snaps too quickly in its direction and knocks it clear off the bed. It clatters somewhere to the floor.
She doesn't catch his hand searching for his own weapon, too busy trying to fend him off one-handed.
And he certainly likes to hear himself talk, but he's a lot stronger than she anticipated, so his words are taken with precaution.
... maybe his discussion about bouldering was not a form of peacocking after all.
When she realizes he has much more shoulder strength than she's imagined, Haru hits him across the face again, hoping that will startle him enough to give her a chance to escape. ]
Get off! Get off me you... creep!
cw: i forgo they're fighting still
Whether the miss was intentional or due to the distraction slamming across his face - who can say. His teeth hurt. The inside of his cheek worn raw and bleeding from every agonizing movement with a blade embedded deep, the bruising pulsating wound spreading across cheek and jaw. They aren't in the Metaverse. The pain isn't buffered by otherworldly powers.
It's a boy, a girl and the two knives between them.
The bed isn't made for their erratic movements - it's difficult to keep his position. The cheap peasant mattress is sliding off and his ankle hooks on a flimsy bedframe to keep them there. ]
Make me, idiot!
[ Knife round two - she may not rip it out of his body, but he has no problem tearing it free from the mattress and aiming for her shoulder in time.
Blood for blood, after all. ]
cw: blood + literally anything else we warned for WE WARNED Y'ALL FREAKS READING THIS
Her face still burns from where he had shoved her into the window, and there's a throbbing, sharp pain in her neck whenever she tries to turn her face away, her eyes scouring for anything she can grab or use to defend herself from his much more violent movements. ]
Let go of me!
[ She thinks her heart might implode from inside her chest with the way it beats hard and fast, the noise almost deafening in her ears now.
Then there's a searing, white, hot pain in her shoulder and there's a shrill scream from her, her body doubling and hand instinctively reaching for where a knife is lodged into her own flesh, blood seeping heavily through the fabric and onto the mattress.
... it's not enough to yell and scream and flail at him to stop.
He's never going to, until she makes him. ]
Get...
[ Haru's shoulder agonizes with every sharp breath she takes. She's never seen herself bleed this much blood in her life; it almost rattles her, paralyzes herโ
But she fights every instinct to shrink back. To hide.
The anger simmering inside her is no longer just leaking out, it's flooding every one of her senses, driving her to fight back with everything she's got.
Haru's leg curls up, pressing a knee into Akechi's stomach to push him as far off her as possible, trying to gain some momentum and get them off this damn unstable bed, the mattress sliding around and the cheap wooden frame banging against the wall. ]
... off!
[ Her other leg slides under next, this time, she kicks hard in the middle of his chest with her heel, just like Makoto had shown her for their Showtime she's gone many times over. She manages to leverage her frame with her one good arm and shoulder against the mattress to knock Akechi to the dirty floor and away from her. ]
NO ONE SAW THAT
And because Noir is here, Crow exists too and in one deft motion, he rips the knife free from his own body. He doesn't care. He needs a weapon - this is one. Maruki once told him 'you're not a field surgeon' and Akechi isn't sure why his voice rings through the high pitched static.
Everything hurts and he feels alive.
Noir is hurt and he feels content.
And it's the thrill of battle that pushes him upwards - wild adrenaline pulsing through his body, ears, mind. It's as close to Call of Chaos as he can get on his own. For a moment, he thinks about using it on both of them in the middle of this shithole. Opts against it when he thinks about the hard to explain collateral and woman who may be less willing to play along.
Every limb hits something on his way up, but he gets up - forces himself upward with a drawer's handle, though he's hardly standing proper. ]
That's more like it!
[ It's vicious, cruel, and violent. He wants more. Wants to rip that already open wound until it slices her in half. Wonders how much of him would be torn free before he managed to end it.
She can't win. She won't win. She isn't Akira or Maruki. He hopes for the challenge to continue all the same. ]
But there's nowhere to hide - I'll give you one final opportunity to surrender.
cw: blood, gore-ish description, what the fuck is happening in here STOP READING
The blood staining her dress, on the mattress, the small droplets on the floor.
Haru looks at Akechi, acknowledges the malice and violence wrapped around his heart.
He will never leave her alone. This will never end.
As long as they coexist in this world, she realizes there is no escape from the boy who her painted her world bloody and red before. Shido may have been the main perpetrator, and Akechi a victim in his own right, but a victim can easily turn victimizer.
It's all too clear now, he thrives off her reactions. A toy he will break when he is bored.
She can feel the heat brimming in her chest once more, distracting her torn skin and flesh that stings when her fingers slowly clasp around the hilt.
Her face grimaces; she grits her teeth, a strangled whine as she begins to pull metal from her shoulder. It hurts, it hurts, it hurtsโ
And it'll always hurt unless she faces him. No Joker to take the brunt of the damage and go toe-to-toe with him, no Mona to heal her, no Makoto to have Johanna brandish her with support skills.
They defeated him together before, but now she stands alone. All she has is the bonds within her and the fury to envelop and protect her, reminding her she chose her freedom and life over all.
She couldn't possibly defeat him, but she would try, and make him understand she was never to be trifled with again so easily.
Perhaps she's a little bit more like her father than she realizes. ]
We've fought side by side before, Akechi-kun. Don't forget that.
[ She cries out as she manages to pull the knife out, splattering more of her blood on the floor. The air feels worse against torn skin, but she's not losing more blood than expected. She feels somewhat dizzy, but that might be the violent delirium.
The bloodied knife stays in her hand.
No Milady, no guns, no axe. ]
If I turn away, I'll never forgive myself.
[ She takes a deep breath, taking a step toward him. ]
Besides... I think you would be sorely disappointed.
[ She doesn't need nor want his respect, but perhaps, deep down, an acknowledgement of who she really is. ]
cw: CONT
But even he can give credit where it's due. Without a healing spell to buffer, he didn't think she could stomach ripping that out. Half expected her to tumble out of the room seeking any kind of assistance.
That's what this trash is best at. Licking their wounds in the company of others.
She stands firm. So does he. Haru moves forward. Akechi stands his ground. Noir says I think you would be sorely disappointed and Crow finds a thrill in a challenge met. ]
Then shut up and finish this!
[ He pushes himself forward using the table meant to steady him and swings his knife in a downward arc towards her body, aiming for the same bleeding target as before. ]
cw: blood and violence cont
cw: all cont INSANE TAG IM FERAL
cw: death mention
(no subject)
wrapped ๐