10-26-2019, 02:47 AM
Natalie in a towel. Just a towel. Nothing else. Her hair tied up. Tendrils stuck to her damp shoulders. Her eyes struck icicles. Breathe, man. Her gaze trickled aside, and reluctantly, Jay’s followed. Then he saw it. A gun and alongside a terrifying sight.
Yep. Brandon’s pin. The one the Ascendancy only made himself before settling it on Jay’s chest with a promise of future heroics. He snatched it to his palm, laid its weight on the skin. The edges prickled daggers such that if he closed his palms dozens of bloody pin-pricks would remain. He didn’t. Instead, his wrist fell limp to his lap and the ornament slipped away.
But he didn’t discard it far.
He pushed to his feet, not even a little bit mindful of Natalie’s precarious situation. “If that’s the only towel, we’re in trouble,” half a grin lingered on the air as he took up residence in the bathroom.
The shower washed away grime, but it wasn’t the red and black swirls chasing down the drain that turned his stomach. It was the reflection in the mirror.
Streaks coursed black bolts across his chest. The densest focused epicenters where Placaso’s pincers bit deep. Fingers traced one jagged line, puckered and rubbery. Pits dug holes in his stomach. Dozens. What flesh might have remained before Jensen’s healing knitted him back together? His shirt covered most of the worst, but it was in the bottom of a trash can. He’d rather walk the streets naked than put on clothes streaked with his sister’s blood. Until the new order was delivered, towel was going to have to work.Which meant the scars were on display. He sighed, weight heavy on the sink, head pulled low.
His fists gripped the edge as his eyes squeezed shut. Concentrating. A barrier remained fenced around his mind, blocking the power away, thin and fragile. If that doctor wasn’t lying, maybe another day before its restoration. Meantime, regular old wallet tv was going to have to occupy their time.
Unless something else came up.
Yep. Brandon’s pin. The one the Ascendancy only made himself before settling it on Jay’s chest with a promise of future heroics. He snatched it to his palm, laid its weight on the skin. The edges prickled daggers such that if he closed his palms dozens of bloody pin-pricks would remain. He didn’t. Instead, his wrist fell limp to his lap and the ornament slipped away.
But he didn’t discard it far.
He pushed to his feet, not even a little bit mindful of Natalie’s precarious situation. “If that’s the only towel, we’re in trouble,” half a grin lingered on the air as he took up residence in the bathroom.
The shower washed away grime, but it wasn’t the red and black swirls chasing down the drain that turned his stomach. It was the reflection in the mirror.
Streaks coursed black bolts across his chest. The densest focused epicenters where Placaso’s pincers bit deep. Fingers traced one jagged line, puckered and rubbery. Pits dug holes in his stomach. Dozens. What flesh might have remained before Jensen’s healing knitted him back together? His shirt covered most of the worst, but it was in the bottom of a trash can. He’d rather walk the streets naked than put on clothes streaked with his sister’s blood. Until the new order was delivered, towel was going to have to work.Which meant the scars were on display. He sighed, weight heavy on the sink, head pulled low.
His fists gripped the edge as his eyes squeezed shut. Concentrating. A barrier remained fenced around his mind, blocking the power away, thin and fragile. If that doctor wasn’t lying, maybe another day before its restoration. Meantime, regular old wallet tv was going to have to occupy their time.
Unless something else came up.
Only darkness shows you the light.