Mikado stepped out into gore. And panic rose before anything else. Call him a desensitized youth, but it wasn't that it made him sick to see and smell all this. It more gave him a quiet panic--the kind that would make him want to slowly and quietly move somewhere unseen so the whatever that did this did not notice him. He swallowed thickly, wondering if he made a mistake. His sneaker scuffed against tile and blood and caught on something that gave beneath him. Bile rose in his throat, and he supposed he wasn't as desensitized as he thought.
His hand closed over his mouth as much to staunch the smell that was now making him sick as to muffle the quiet whimper that fled from his chest. All right. He had left his room, was going to find out answers, and likely die before anything really happened that mattered, wasn't he? Were these parts human, or something else? He hadn't even really accomplished anything in life. He was still just a nobody, just a player in the game and no one that even mattered.
It was choking, more than the texture beneath his shoes and the smell in the air. Because he was not going to die with only an ordinary life behind him. No, he would find out something, and get somewhere, and--
He rubbed his face, as if the movement prompted determination, and strode forward quickly before he could think to hesitate.
Of course... Doing so brought him into the path of a very large, very adamant man.
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Mikado stepped out into gore. And panic rose before anything else. Call him a desensitized youth, but it wasn't that it made him sick to see and smell all this. It more gave him a quiet panic--the kind that would make him want to slowly and quietly move somewhere unseen so the whatever that did this did not notice him. He swallowed thickly, wondering if he made a mistake. His sneaker scuffed against tile and blood and caught on something that gave beneath him. Bile rose in his throat, and he supposed he wasn't as desensitized as he thought.
His hand closed over his mouth as much to staunch the smell that was now making him sick as to muffle the quiet whimper that fled from his chest. All right. He had left his room, was going to find out answers, and likely die before anything really happened that mattered, wasn't he? Were these parts human, or something else? He hadn't even really accomplished anything in life. He was still just a nobody, just a player in the game and no one that even mattered.
It was choking, more than the texture beneath his shoes and the smell in the air. Because he was not going to die with only an ordinary life behind him. No, he would find out something, and get somewhere, and--
He rubbed his face, as if the movement prompted determination, and strode forward quickly before he could think to hesitate.
Of course... Doing so brought him into the path of a very large, very adamant man.