Peter Pan. Story Eater had disguised itself as Peter Pan. [A reason he'd made a point in his own message speaking of Erasers and the like, at least to some, that it wasn't just story villains it would disguise as; bring Erasers right along with it-] I don't know, the battle was still going. Like a phantom pain, my brain remembers more than my body does.
[76 had already ditched his own space that Reaper had basically forced him to show, and didn't expect him to use this one again either. They'd keep this up until they ran out of places.
He sat back on his knees, letting Reaper do his own inspection since 76 had finished.]
Always will, unfortunately for him. [Man wasn't getting any younger, and he'd already had one devastation after another when it was out of Morrison's hands to stop the forced retirement. After Ana's "death" in the field.
There was some low growl under his breath, but more at himself when he realized finishing up meant- well. Keeping his side of their little agreement. At last he could get fingers under the hem of his shirt, pulling the compressive material upwards and over his head. Letting it fall where he'd dropped his own jacket and mask, hands rubbing along forearms idly.
Of course his own body was littered with scars, some far older than others. Burn scars covered his torso as well, large and gone mostly untreated; most were on his back, a few wrapped around one side near a hip. Pants hid the rest of them still.
There was, however, uneven stitches on one side holding together a wound that nearly looked fresh if it wasn't for the necrotic skin there. Branching lines, going from the small of his back and over the side to his stomach. Right where the asshole in front of him shot him.]
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Date: 2021-11-30 11:06 pm (UTC)From:[76 had already ditched his own space that Reaper had basically forced him to show, and didn't expect him to use this one again either. They'd keep this up until they ran out of places.
He sat back on his knees, letting Reaper do his own inspection since 76 had finished.]
Always will, unfortunately for him. [Man wasn't getting any younger, and he'd already had one devastation after another when it was out of Morrison's hands to stop the forced retirement. After Ana's "death" in the field.
There was some low growl under his breath, but more at himself when he realized finishing up meant- well. Keeping his side of their little agreement. At last he could get fingers under the hem of his shirt, pulling the compressive material upwards and over his head. Letting it fall where he'd dropped his own jacket and mask, hands rubbing along forearms idly.
Of course his own body was littered with scars, some far older than others. Burn scars covered his torso as well, large and gone mostly untreated; most were on his back, a few wrapped around one side near a hip. Pants hid the rest of them still.
There was, however, uneven stitches on one side holding together a wound that nearly looked fresh if it wasn't for the necrotic skin there. Branching lines, going from the small of his back and over the side to his stomach. Right where the asshole in front of him shot him.]