[The panther that used to annoyingly dog Nero's steps in the Horizon now seems even more alert now, picking her head up with her ears back as the doors to the bloody palace open. It's enough of an unexpected distraction that Nero turns his head.]
Oh, Ger --
[A rake of claws throws him backwards, giving the Chaos just enough time to leap across the entire arena right on top of him, tearing through his coat, shirt, and skin.
There's a wet sound, the smell of blood splattering, and then a single bullet shot as a gun materializes in his hand. Good ole Blue Rose.
The Chaos explodes into demonc blood, splattering the ground with his own. With a groan, Nero sits up, an arm across his stomach to hold his guts inside, where they're supposed to be. This is entirely on Geralt. Dick.] Couldn't knock first, could ya?
[Ugh. He gets up, shaking blood off his free hand as his stomach knits itself back up, intestines remaining in their safe, squishy cavity. You know, this is like the third time in as many months. Hell of a record.
Unfortunately, while it might not have bothered him before, it sort of shakes him up now. Shadow growls at Geralt, setting her head back down with her tail slapping the outcropping of broken marble columns she lays on. Nero keeps an arm around his stomach. It's not instantaneous anymore, the healing. This is slow. He can watch it work. Skin knitting over skin, but still the pulsating, grey mess of bloodied organs underneath.] Shit. You never get used to that.
cw: gore :)
Oh, Ger --
[A rake of claws throws him backwards, giving the Chaos just enough time to leap across the entire arena right on top of him, tearing through his coat, shirt, and skin.
There's a wet sound, the smell of blood splattering, and then a single bullet shot as a gun materializes in his hand. Good ole Blue Rose.
The Chaos explodes into demonc blood, splattering the ground with his own. With a groan, Nero sits up, an arm across his stomach to hold his guts inside, where they're supposed to be. This is entirely on Geralt. Dick.] Couldn't knock first, could ya?
[Ugh. He gets up, shaking blood off his free hand as his stomach knits itself back up, intestines remaining in their safe, squishy cavity. You know, this is like the third time in as many months. Hell of a record.
Unfortunately, while it might not have bothered him before, it sort of shakes him up now. Shadow growls at Geralt, setting her head back down with her tail slapping the outcropping of broken marble columns she lays on. Nero keeps an arm around his stomach. It's not instantaneous anymore, the healing. This is slow. He can watch it work. Skin knitting over skin, but still the pulsating, grey mess of bloodied organs underneath.] Shit. You never get used to that.