[ falco had continued to hope it was oil and iron, but the more they went up the flight of spindly stairs to the second floor of the sleeper farm, the more he couldn’t ignore his nose and memory— this was blood. the fact is made more than apparent when the cross-like figure hanging by chain, wire and wounds was pale and dead rather than the desired metallic decoration. falco gasps as well, his heart pounding loudly in his ears as he bounds up to the corpse with luca in tow. they’re this close to a corpse that suffered, and for an inkling of a moment does falco rush to help, to look at the chains and put his fingertips to the hanging legs he could reach.
it’s stone cold. there’s nothing he could do. the boy’s eyes begin to shine with an empathetic glaze, blinking the tears away and gripping his panic with the constrains that trained him to stay calm. he’s as calm as he can be, but he’s not okay. ]
M— [ his breathing shivers, escalates, ] maybe someone’s alive, maybe they need help, like us— worse than us . . .
[ and who did this? there were plenty of twisted minds across the universe that could; falco was once on the receiving end of a mutilation, but he came out alive, baring no physical scar of the happening. ]
Let’s— stay sharp. And close, Luca.
[ he pulls the boy closer. they weren’t alone, and the corpse wasn’t the only thing waiting for them. the smell of blood only piled into something vile, of buckets and mounds of waste, of guts, of organs scattered in pulsing places or suspicious, sacrificial squares. ]
no subject
it’s stone cold. there’s nothing he could do. the boy’s eyes begin to shine with an empathetic glaze, blinking the tears away and gripping his panic with the constrains that trained him to stay calm. he’s as calm as he can be, but he’s not okay. ]
M— [ his breathing shivers, escalates, ] maybe someone’s alive, maybe they need help, like us— worse than us . . .
[ and who did this? there were plenty of twisted minds across the universe that could; falco was once on the receiving end of a mutilation, but he came out alive, baring no physical scar of the happening. ]
Let’s— stay sharp. And close, Luca.
[ he pulls the boy closer. they weren’t alone, and the corpse wasn’t the only thing waiting for them. the smell of blood only piled into something vile, of buckets and mounds of waste, of guts, of organs scattered in pulsing places or suspicious, sacrificial squares. ]