[ But he trails off, tone turning horrified as suddenly there's a wet splash instead of the rough sound of cobblestone underfoot. It's dark, even with the full moon overhead, so it's hard to entirely tell -- but even Allen comes to a full stop as soon as he realizes that. Like there's water in the street yes, but before someone might even realize the liquid puddled around one's boots... it's the smell.
Thick to the point of not even really being coppery, but viscous. Stomach-turning. Not just blood but bile and viscera. The insides of a body not meant to be outside and smelled. The stench of blood pollution itself when it's this thick. Dozens and -- ]
...! [ It's a small and strangled sort of sound from Allen, caught in the back of his throat, even from someone raised amidst massacres. Who's seen the results of entire towns and even countries massacres for the sake of creating more monsters, more legions of killing machines powered by human suffering.
But no one ever gets used to seeing an entire street dead, and certainly not so brutally. Bodies in pieces; some still flesh and torn, others seemingly turned to ashen stone like the children in the alley, their skin covered in more of the measles-like black stars. Carts overturned and broken, the walls of houses rubbled in parts by what looks like massive artillery fire.
Some of them people he recognizes, from the torn clothing or part of a face. Someone he would stop and chat pleasantly with on his day to day activities, plying his way for a day old piece of bread or running some errands for them.
And throughout all of it, this pervasive, loud commingled sobbing and soft cries from a street awash in forbiddenly spilled blood. The only sound in an otherwise silent nightmare... aside from the faint hissing sound of what sounds like gas escaping.
Gas, rising like a poisonous cloud from the remains of a giant monstrous corpse in the middle of it all. Fallen to its side and looking broken, with what look like three giant clownish heads that were once attached to a gangly, spiderous figure.
And one giant eyeball, as big as the two of them combined, is staring directly at them. Wide, and seemingly dead. ]
2/2
[ But he trails off, tone turning horrified as suddenly there's a wet splash instead of the rough sound of cobblestone underfoot. It's dark, even with the full moon overhead, so it's hard to entirely tell -- but even Allen comes to a full stop as soon as he realizes that. Like there's water in the street yes, but before someone might even realize the liquid puddled around one's boots... it's the smell.
Thick to the point of not even really being coppery, but viscous. Stomach-turning. Not just blood but bile and viscera. The insides of a body not meant to be outside and smelled. The stench of blood pollution itself when it's this thick. Dozens and -- ]
...! [ It's a small and strangled sort of sound from Allen, caught in the back of his throat, even from someone raised amidst massacres. Who's seen the results of entire towns and even countries massacres for the sake of creating more monsters, more legions of killing machines powered by human suffering.
But no one ever gets used to seeing an entire street dead, and certainly not so brutally. Bodies in pieces; some still flesh and torn, others seemingly turned to ashen stone like the children in the alley, their skin covered in more of the measles-like black stars. Carts overturned and broken, the walls of houses rubbled in parts by what looks like massive artillery fire.
Some of them people he recognizes, from the torn clothing or part of a face. Someone he would stop and chat pleasantly with on his day to day activities, plying his way for a day old piece of bread or running some errands for them.
And throughout all of it, this pervasive, loud commingled sobbing and soft cries from a street awash in forbiddenly spilled blood. The only sound in an otherwise silent nightmare... aside from the faint hissing sound of what sounds like gas escaping.
Gas, rising like a poisonous cloud from the remains of a giant monstrous corpse in the middle of it all. Fallen to its side and looking broken, with what look like three giant clownish heads that were once attached to a gangly, spiderous figure.
And one giant eyeball, as big as the two of them combined, is staring directly at them. Wide, and seemingly dead. ]