[ it gets too hot. her spherical pocket of unreality opens like a bloom, and for moments on end (one. two.) the world feels the way it should be. natural (three. four.).
makima could control her reactions to pain, seemingly dulled and unbothered most of the time, but she can't stop herself from feeling. she can't stop her body from crumbling after too many hits, and she no longer has the japanese government to transfer her wounds, or her deaths. she keeps them in trench. the barbed wires come for her, one snaking for her torso and piercing her rib.
(five. six.)
she flicks her wrist and finger, diverting the second wire's momentum and barely winding another whip from snagging her neck. instead, it rips a cut through her cheek all the way to the base of her ear. her darkblood scatters like a burst of thrown glitter and hangs with a strip of her flesh that was once still sticking to her face.
no subject
makima could control her reactions to pain, seemingly dulled and unbothered most of the time, but she can't stop herself from feeling. she can't stop her body from crumbling after too many hits, and she no longer has the japanese government to transfer her wounds, or her deaths. she keeps them in trench. the barbed wires come for her, one snaking for her torso and piercing her rib.
(five. six.)
she flicks her wrist and finger, diverting the second wire's momentum and barely winding another whip from snagging her neck. instead, it rips a cut through her cheek all the way to the base of her ear. her darkblood scatters like a burst of thrown glitter and hangs with a strip of her flesh that was once still sticking to her face.
(seven.)
she aims a fingerbang at sharon— and fires. ]