[Bodies are only meat, when you get right down to it. They all feel about the same from the skin in - squishy, yielding, wet. Open a live one anywhere, and blood wells up to meet you. In this case, not very much, because the spines are almost exactly as big as the holes. But it's no contest. Even the weakest thorns can tear the toughest flesh. As long as they don't break anything vital ... Nisei clenches his teeth slightly as he pulls a few strands out of your upper leg and threads them back in, keeping them well away from the major, bifucating artery. If he could, he'd run you right through. Feel your heart struggle to function for the few, agonizing seconds it would take to fail, with literal holes punched through its thin walls. He's certain that 'if' is really a 'when.' Someday. If he hasn't come up with a more sadistic end for you by then. And, of course, if Seimei doesn't decide to kill you himself. That would be beautiful.
Nisei looks down at you for a long moment and lets you laugh; lets you earn the full measure of what he might do with your arrogant scorn. You have a way of playing right into your tormenter's hands, don't you, Soubi? Of putting yourself in a position where you'll be hurt, and blamed for what you suffer. It's absurd, watching you pretend to be unafraid and in control. One little slip of anger in Nisei's spells right now, and you'd never see your precious, pathetic Ritsuka again. But Nisei isn't angry. He's enjoying this; having you at his mercy, under his hands. He touches his fingers to the edge of the scars on your neck and the intact flesh between them, lightly dragging skin against skin in a caress. It's gentle, deliberate, cruelly knowing - I can touch you, and there isn't anything you can do about it. Disgusting traitor that you are ... maybe I'm the only one who will. He forgoes the sing-song, and the illusion that he's playing. Soulless eyes regard you as he says,]
"You're more vulnerable than you know."
[You can feel the pressure build relentlessly for a milisecond before your skin breaks. Nisei turns his head to one side just as two strands rip themselves simultaneously out of your forehead, leaving long, mocking cuts like a second set of eyebrows. Blood hits his face and jacket and glistens there. Nisei leaves it exactly where it fell. As the cuts start oozing into your eyes, they're joined by others - a deep one in your left shoulder, many shallowly cris-crossing your ribs, a long one on your right inner thigh that leaves blood running down your leg and pooling at the knee, where it touches ground, where your pant leg is soaking through. The attack is faster than thought, almost, as if you split open at invisible seams. The sharp thorns Nisei tore free are not a fraction of what's still embedded in your body, but as the light gutters and goes out, your pain receptors start to really protest in unison. He can feel them sounding the alarm, even as soft, useless scabs develop around the first spines that went in.]
:)
Nisei looks down at you for a long moment and lets you laugh; lets you earn the full measure of what he might do with your arrogant scorn. You have a way of playing right into your tormenter's hands, don't you, Soubi? Of putting yourself in a position where you'll be hurt, and blamed for what you suffer. It's absurd, watching you pretend to be unafraid and in control. One little slip of anger in Nisei's spells right now, and you'd never see your precious, pathetic Ritsuka again. But Nisei isn't angry. He's enjoying this; having you at his mercy, under his hands. He touches his fingers to the edge of the scars on your neck and the intact flesh between them, lightly dragging skin against skin in a caress. It's gentle, deliberate, cruelly knowing - I can touch you, and there isn't anything you can do about it. Disgusting traitor that you are ... maybe I'm the only one who will. He forgoes the sing-song, and the illusion that he's playing. Soulless eyes regard you as he says,]
"You're more vulnerable than you know."
[You can feel the pressure build relentlessly for a milisecond before your skin breaks. Nisei turns his head to one side just as two strands rip themselves simultaneously out of your forehead, leaving long, mocking cuts like a second set of eyebrows. Blood hits his face and jacket and glistens there. Nisei leaves it exactly where it fell. As the cuts start oozing into your eyes, they're joined by others - a deep one in your left shoulder, many shallowly cris-crossing your ribs, a long one on your right inner thigh that leaves blood running down your leg and pooling at the knee, where it touches ground, where your pant leg is soaking through. The attack is faster than thought, almost, as if you split open at invisible seams. The sharp thorns Nisei tore free are not a fraction of what's still embedded in your body, but as the light gutters and goes out, your pain receptors start to really protest in unison. He can feel them sounding the alarm, even as soft, useless scabs develop around the first spines that went in.]