[Hakkai has his eyes closed again; Jeep's engine goes from a rumble to a hoarse purr as he feels the car jolt and begin to move forward. His hand is clenched on the edge of the seat, knuckles white.
It'll wear off soon enough. The reek of sulfur from the volcanic gases almost, but not quite, conceals the smell of Gojyo's blood.
How serious is the injury? What didn't he see, in favor of imagining a wound that was never real?]
no subject
It'll wear off soon enough. The reek of sulfur from the volcanic gases almost, but not quite, conceals the smell of Gojyo's blood.
How serious is the injury? What didn't he see, in favor of imagining a wound that was never real?]
What I do is my fault whether or not I meant it.
[He's hardly paying attention to what he says.]