[OPEN] only god can see what i've become.

[killtime]

⬤ Andy @ the CR Meme ⬤
⬤ Permissions Post ⬤

Who ⬤ Andromache of Scythia (now of Enma) & YOU!
What ⬤ The bastard woman drinks and brawls her way through May substories
When ⬤ Throughout the month of May
Where ⬤ A bar, a backlot, and a bloody arena
Content Warnings ⬤ Profanity, violence, substance use, sex, etc. To be updated as needed!



A | MOON MEDICINE / SUBSTORY #1

[ This might be the most alive she's felt since arriving in hell. Whatever the fuck was in that medicinal mochi — it's like being high on cocaine and bloodlust at the same time. It feeds into that part of her that has always loved a fight. That up-close and personal shit where you can practically smell your opponent's breath. That's what she was raised on, seven thousand years ago on the Eurasian steppe — heir of the warrior-queen, bare and bloody on the battlefield, her mother's axe in her right hand.

No axe now. No battlefield either. Just the dirty alley out behind some dive bar. But that look in her eye is the same now as it was back then, wild and bright as she slams her fist into the unrecognizable pulp that was formerly the face of the yokai who had gotten fresh with her inside. Her knuckles are split open, but she doesn't seem to notice. Tunnel vision, everything else utterly irrelevant while her opponent is still standing — and he is, just barely. Just enough to take another clumsy swing at her, a move so obvious and slow that, in her violent fervor, she barks out a mean laugh, teeth bared. Bracing herself, she lets gravity do most of the work as she catches her victim by the clothes and flings him out of the alley towards street —

Right into anyone unfortunate enough to be passing by. ]

B | VEND ME A DREAM / SUBSTORY #2

[ Normally, on a day like this, Andy would have found some way to drink herself into oblivion by now. But she's spent most of her time in hell hungover, and somewhere between the constant headaches and violent nausea, she figured her newly mortal body was probably begging her for a break from the bottle. But being both idle and sober lends itself too readily towards her tendency to wallow uselessly in her own misery, so when the shirime approaches her with its winking butthole and a request for item A5, well...

Fuck it. It's not as if she has anything better to do.

That's how she winds up in that backlot, leaning up against a porno vending machine with a dwindling cigarette hanging from the corner of her mouth as she flips through Juicy Peaches. The look on her face is one of stoic apathy, but either she's bored or the asses within are just that compelling, because she's still turning pages. This page in particular has her head turning slightly one way, then the other as she considers it. Out loud, to nobody in particular: ]

...That's a fucking fish.

[ Given the context, she might mean that literally. Only one way to find out. ]

C | BRUISED & BLOODY / SHUTEN TERRITORY ARENA

[ She'd been beating up people for free in bars this whole time, so it seemed only practical to at least get paid for that shit. The booze and cigarettes don't pay for themselves — and gods forbid that Andy hold a regular nine-to-five. She'd rather have her bones broken. Besides, she makes for a good underdog bet. Compared to some of the monstrous yokai that have stood opposite her in the ring, Andy looks decidedly ordinary. A woman who is neither particularly tall or strong. Nothing to betray the centuries she's spent mastering different ways of using her body to cause others pain. Except maybe that certain look in her eye. Something sharp. Something a little mean.

On one of the nights that she fights, she might find herself facing off against another Lost Soul in her next match. Or maybe afterward, with her left arm hanging loosely from its socket, she might be looking for someone to lend her hand — hopefully someone who isn't too squeamish to shove a shoulder back in. Otherwise, after the fighting is done, she makes a habit of smoking a cigarette right outside the arena, usually more interested in indulging that bad habit than patching herself up. ]

Comments

[killtime]

[ She just has to keep this - and him - together until help gets here. That’s all she has to do. If she tells herself it’s as simple as that, then she can stay focused. Her hands, already sticky with his blood, close over his so they can both press down over the wound.

Funny, but there’s something grounding about the familiar filth that comes out of his mouth. It’s almost a little comforting. ]

This is a little fucking much for foreplay. [ She mutters, wishing she had a free hand to light herself a cigarette. ] I’d kick your ass if I didn’t think it might actually kill you.

[pitfight]

Come on, baby, aren't you wet? What a fucking disappointment! [ Nishitani thinks help is on the way. With Andy putting down her phone, it better be. Nishitani has actually been enjoying his time in Hell, he doesn't exactly want it to stop. There's no way he'll regret doing what he did, stepping in to take a hit that easily would've punctured one of her lungs-- but he does hope that it won't be the last time he gets to see-- ]

[ Everyone. In the 3 weeks here, he's surrounded himself with people he likes already. Damn, damn he's gotten domestic without even realizing it. ]

[killtime]

[ The worst part of this might be that she knows this could have just as easily been her bleeding out on the street. She was sloppy. Reckless. Fighting like she was still immortal. Like she didn’t need to be protected. People don’t do that for her - she’s had her boys take kill shots through her fucking body, for fuck’s sake.

So there’s guilt. But there’s always guilt. It’s the other feelings, the sentimental shit. She’d almost rather take a knife between the ribs than feel that emotional tightness in her chest.

It’s quieter, worried underneath her habitual wryness, and maybe a twinge of unbidden fondness too: ]

You’re stupid. [ Gods, her jacket is more blood than fabric now. She swears to any higher power that she’ll do anything for Emily, if the good doctor can salvage this. ] If you don’t fucking die, maybe I’ll stick a couple fingers in there. Just try to bleed less, would you?

[pitfight]

I'll try, I'll try. Fuck, I love your fingers. [ Nishitani closes his eyes, humming as he recalls all the different ways Andy has used those fingers on him-- choking him, in his throat to force him to vomit, against his cock, up inside him-- There's lots of places he wants her fingers in the future, too. ]

[ For her, he'll try to stop bleeding as much. Hell if it actually works, but he thinks about it really hard. ] That a promise? I'll take even one.

[medicative]

[she had started running at Andy's text message, then flying. it's easier than navigating foot traffic to their location if she manages correctly, and dropping down to the pavement when she's near. her satchel's slung over her arm, but she sees the blood, sees Andy, and makes one of several judgement calls.]

Let me see him.

[it's calm, but it's not a request, as she puts her hands over to keep the pressure on the wound in Andy's place.]

I'll take over for now.

[killtime]

Thank the fucking gods, Em.

[ She can’t even hide the flood of relief that rushes over her when Emily drops down from the sky like a literal angel - a cliche comparison she’s sure someone’s made before, but never more appropriate in her eyes than right then, with her in need of a fucking miracle. She obeys Emily without question, withdrawing her own bloody hands to let the doctor do her work. ]

Tell me how to help you.

[ If nothing else, she can be an extra set of hands. Nishitani’s filthy sweet nothings will have to wait until Emily finishes saving his damn life. ]

[medicative]

There's a section for stitches in my bag, a small case. Also, antiseptic, gauze pads, adhesive tape. And...don't panic.

[that's said for good measure, because she's pulling the cloth off of him, and the blood threatens to flow again -

her hands are alight with a soft glow, and Nishitani will once again feel the same warmth that moves through him. a breeze rises, stirs around the three of them - fresh air that braces. what Andy will see is that glow moving into Nishitani, the wound recovering, realigning, closing as if it was regenerating and healing right before her eyes. blood vessels stitched back together, tissue reconnected, breathing eased.

and yet, before it can be finished, before Nishitani's flesh truly is fixed, she raises her hands and draws back, extending her hands for her supplies.]

...I'm not going to finish mending him. Not that way.

[the way she says it, she absolutely could. but she's not going to do it.]