semi-closed 🔪 sometimes it's better to lose than compromise

[pitfight]

Who ⬤ Nishitani and various
What ⬤ It's trauma time! (event nsfw)
When ⬤ THE BLOOD RAIN BABY
Where ⬤ various
Content Warnings ⬤ TRAUMA!! BLOOD!! GORE!! VIOLENCE!! PTSD!! SEX!! BODY HORROR? This is a nsfw post for event stuff, so be warned

if you would like to tag into this/want a starter, hmu at bussy!

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[narbrawl]

[Slowly, the world comes into focus. His sneakers are dark with blood, the frayed bottoms of his pants dyed red where it's soaked into the fabric. Opposite, Nishitani's loafers. He lifts his chin, letting his gaze wander up over the lines of his legs, past his belt and tie and finally to his face. There's still a slightly distant look to Childe's eyes but he's at least making an effort to stay conscious.

A moment of weakness is acceptable- but nothing more.

At once, any doors that might have been opened into his mind are slammed shut once more. It's a physical transformation as much as a mental one; he brute forces his body into its typical casual stance and his expression back into indiscernibility. The smile he gives him is strained but secure, like a tightly laced mask.]

Miles better than "kid", old man. [He turns away, heading over to the water cooler in the corner.] You look even worse than when I saw you at the clinic.

[Instead of drinking, he cups a hand beneath the spout, pours himself some cold water directly into it and splashes it over his face.]

[pitfight]

[ Nishitani notes each change, the way Childe's shoulders go back, the confidence that straightens his spine. There's no noise, Nishitani not mentioning Childe cleaning off but instead going over and offering him a napkin once he's finished. ] There's a shower, you know.

[narbrawl]

[As inviting as a hot shower sounds right about now, he's far more put off by the thought of making himself vulnerable long enough to even take one. Instead, he takes the napkin and scrubs at his face- a little harder than is really necessary, it has to be said.]

I'll pass, thanks.

[What he does do is peel off his jacket and toss it across the back of a chair. His shirt follows and, without explanation, he heads towards the tiny excuse for a kitchenette at the back and puts his entire head under the tap. It's ice cold but he doesn't stop until the water through his hair runs clear. A collection of fresh wounds -some have already been sewn up- are on full display, along with a few patches of peeling skin along his shoulders.]