[ It really is strange that Killua doesn't move. He's limp in Gon's arms, jaw slack, eyes shut-- but he's breathing, a strained, shallow and uneven sound with a distinctly rasping quality.
It's dark in the basement, in the cage. Gon won't see the full extent of the damage until they get upstairs, where the lighting in the hallway gives him a full view of the disturbing state Killua's in when he's leaned back against the wall.
His clothes -- just his undershirt and trousers now, no shoes or jacket -- are torn, blackened with a mix of filth, dried blood and infection. Angry red wounds from claws and teeth crisscross his arms, shoulders, legs and back, healed just enough to stop the bleeding but left mostly unbandaged. The holes in his clothes give a glimpse of the black patches underneath, but it's most obvious in his face and throat, where black veins crawl like spreading roots across his skin, around his eyes, blackening his lips.
The slap doesn't wake him. Not at first.
No, it's the Bond that gets through, eventually; Killua can feel Gon nearby, the warmth of him slowly piercing through the darkness. That, and the fading spells cast by captors who are now thoroughly distracted, fleeing or fighting somewhere in the other room, where the muffled sounds of the chaos still filter in through the walls. It smells like smoke and acrid meat.
Lashes fluttering and lids twitching, Killua slowly opens his eyes.
no subject
It's dark in the basement, in the cage. Gon won't see the full extent of the damage until they get upstairs, where the lighting in the hallway gives him a full view of the disturbing state Killua's in when he's leaned back against the wall.
His clothes -- just his undershirt and trousers now, no shoes or jacket -- are torn, blackened with a mix of filth, dried blood and infection. Angry red wounds from claws and teeth crisscross his arms, shoulders, legs and back, healed just enough to stop the bleeding but left mostly unbandaged. The holes in his clothes give a glimpse of the black patches underneath, but it's most obvious in his face and throat, where black veins crawl like spreading roots across his skin, around his eyes, blackening his lips.
The slap doesn't wake him. Not at first.
No, it's the Bond that gets through, eventually; Killua can feel Gon nearby, the warmth of him slowly piercing through the darkness. That, and the fading spells cast by captors who are now thoroughly distracted, fleeing or fighting somewhere in the other room, where the muffled sounds of the chaos still filter in through the walls. It smells like smoke and acrid meat.
Lashes fluttering and lids twitching, Killua slowly opens his eyes.
They're black too. ]