[it won't, he decides, as he watches blood and plasma fling across the white sheets in gorey chunks, the writhe and shudder of a thinner but toned body arcing in pain, the hostile environment of this room more satisfying than anything he's experienced in this sleepy, docile town]
[it won't get old.]
...You barely screamed for the worst of it. I'm almost impressed. [almost but hardly, that tone implies, the rag perhaps pleasantly warmer than the carnage littering the other man's spine as it slops up dark crimson]
[a small bag of ice lands on the back his neck without warning, just an assist for the fever that still plagues him but will drop soon, and the older haibane finally leans over to undo those ropes once his breathing has evened out]
Get some sleep. This'll take me a while. [so he says as he pulls up a chair and takes a hinge of the wing closest to him in one hand, a fine-bristled brush in the other]
no subject
[it won't get old.]
...You barely screamed for the worst of it. I'm almost impressed. [almost but hardly, that tone implies, the rag perhaps pleasantly warmer than the carnage littering the other man's spine as it slops up dark crimson]
[a small bag of ice lands on the back his neck without warning, just an assist for the fever that still plagues him but will drop soon, and the older haibane finally leans over to undo those ropes once his breathing has evened out]
Get some sleep. This'll take me a while. [so he says as he pulls up a chair and takes a hinge of the wing closest to him in one hand, a fine-bristled brush in the other]