John is slow, which is embarrassing; Vileblood has never liked listening to him. He turns in startled disbelief, and the first lance meets his shoulder with a shockingly mortal and meaty thump— then one punches out his side, spears throat, splinters collarbone, shears off most of an ear. The air is so thick with her blood the lances whistle like falling rain.
It stops like a caught breath.
The blood shudders, taut and vibrating in the air, stilled by some invisible hand. Through the forest of wet green lances held shivering between them, God draws himself clumsily upright. He sloughs off the ruin of his bad side with a wet shrug, cracks his broken jaw back into place, hisses through the sting of fresh poison. The burning rings of his eyes seem to glow through the wreckage of his face: he bleeds a slow dark glitter like distant stars. ]
cw: severe injury, gore
John is slow, which is embarrassing; Vileblood has never liked listening to him. He turns in startled disbelief, and the first lance meets his shoulder with a shockingly mortal and meaty thump— then one punches out his side, spears throat, splinters collarbone, shears off most of an ear. The air is so thick with her blood the lances whistle like falling rain.
It stops like a caught breath.
The blood shudders, taut and vibrating in the air, stilled by some invisible hand. Through the forest of wet green lances held shivering between them, God draws himself clumsily upright. He sloughs off the ruin of his bad side with a wet shrug, cracks his broken jaw back into place, hisses through the sting of fresh poison. The burning rings of his eyes seem to glow through the wreckage of his face: he bleeds a slow dark glitter like distant stars. ]
Can we talk about this?