Ephamerel - Tumblr Posts
the empty husk of a room, shielding other hollowed vessels, dissected meat sacks void of life — gojō did not feel this way at heart, but it was the mindset he'd trained himself to have the moment shōko expressed an interest in medicine, and in this particular specialty. it unnerved more than it intrigued him, he'd seen enough monstrosities of the world that it always managed to deeply unsettle him how procedural death could be, how anti - climatic. the mundane of it all was arguably worse than the gore of it, in the nightmares it could cause. nose wrinkled at the overwhelmingly sterile scent, violating to the senses, jarring even as it'd hit the half - hour mark of his presence in the human - sized freezer. arms folded over his chest as he begrudgingly followed the line of sight as she spoke, detailing the gruesomeness of the corpse's demise, painting a picture not even the gift of his eyes could need. “ bleeding to death ? ” rhetorical, delivered with practiced impassivity. couldn't help the way memories forced themselves into the gaps of his mind, flickers — blood, pain, the darkness shrouding him, welcoming him, and then light. “ wouldn't recommend it, honestly. the gut is always killer, always intentional. whether it was done with the awareness that it's the most painful or takes the longest, the message was sent, alright. ”
through the thickness of the black cloth, he could still sense the presence left behind, the imprints of unwanted visitors. different techniques, different hands, and yet — same recipient. whatever the circumstance, it always landed at their front door, under shōko's trusty expertise. “ you're thinking the same thing, i assume. ” a string of murders, a breadcrumb trail of ... what, exactly ? there was something brewing, catastrophic in its wake, and it was deliberate in grabbing his attention. from the side, he could feel her presence, unwavering, unchanging, and yet so ... different from the girl he'd experienced youth with. there was a death in each of them that rotted from the inside out. and only they could really catch it, recognize that sign of decay. “ i can already tell it is the same person. or, not person. but someone in close relation with that ... patchface spirit, or whatever they call it. it's not a changed form, obviously. does this ring any particular bells ? ” / @ephamerel
@leventar: i'm not gonna like this, am i?
she's never been one for talking. more of an observer, really, but now the silence around her is deafening. thick and heavy like the spine of a knife. and she smiles even less. the crescents beneath her eyes are darker than ever, darker than she thought possible. a murky purple that she'd find familiar in any other context, but this is just revolting. her eyes are deep and dark, the same as ever, but now they’re glazed over with something most can’t quite put their fingers on. she knows what it is, of course. she always has. she'll agree on apathy for now. the scent of cigarette smoke that follows her is suffocating. indistinguishable from her natural scent. shoko hasn’t been herself for a while— and it’s so obvious. everything is so heavy, her sleep - deprivation so severe. one would have to be blind not to notice it. and satoru would have to be an idiot not to question it. it takes her a few seconds to realize he's speaking, but at his voice, she turns around, eyebrow raising calmly. `` no. ``
she wonders if her tone is as obvious as she thinks it is. but as she looks at him, she finally realizes. her emotions are a fickle thing. always with her, tucked away within those eyebags, in the pockets of her coat. in that smell of tobacco, never - fading, always lingering. it follows her like a ghost, like something she’ll never quite be rid of. shoko’s emotions are a fickle thing and it always has been, but recently, it’s been downright overwhelming. it used to be subtle, the kind of thing people notice if they look close enough. if they squint. if they even care enough to try. so when he looks at her, she understands. `` ah. `` she looks up at him and her lips curl in a way that is supposed to form a smile. it doesn’t. her eyes look into his but it’s like she’s not seeing him at all. she doesn’t look at him, professional in the way her eyes run across the files. cause of death: damage to central intestines, subsequent loss of blood. from a cut to the stomach, right below the liver and spleen. she hears him let out a sigh and finally speaks, but when she does, it just comes out flat, unlike the times when she used to crack a joke. `` what a way to die, don't you think? `` i wonder how people feel right before they die, she thinks.