There's broken shards of glass, jagged metal and bits of rebar ...
Or, if you happen to look eastwards, there seem to be a few farming implements scattered amongst the rubble?
The escalator is a buckled, warped, and partially twisted wreck, with steps out of alignment and some outright missing. It sure doesn't look secure. It sure doesn't look safe. It definitely isn't moving anytime soon. But you might be able to climb up it if you're careful.
As you go, you start to find that not all this debris is from the mall. Oh, no. At least some of it came from the ruins of a destroyed castle. You start to find broken bits of farm tools, some varying degrees of buried, all bloody.
Nearby, in a pile of shattered glass, is a used syringe with blood gunking up the needle.
And further ahead ... some medical supplies that may look familiar.
Remember? Something that goes a whole lot like this. All the fear, the panic, the distress at hearing the girl she's started to see as a little sister suffering behind her.
All the faith in Donnie, the trust, the relief that he's here. (The guilt, the shame, the heartache.)
A coughing fit that doesn't stop.
That awful, familiar feeling of a shattered rib shifted in just the wrong way, stabbing deeper, and you're bleeding, bleeding, bleeding into yourself. A crawling-itching-burrowing under your skin. The taste of blood and honey on your tongue. Drowning. You know what dying feels like. How many times has it been? More than twenty, right? You try to stay strong for him, for Donnie, he's fighting so hard for you, his face is blank his hands are steady but you know, you know that he desperately does not want to lose you. But.
In the end.
You both lose anyway.
… You remember jerking awake at godawful o'clock in the morning, alone in your room, biting a pillow. You remember curling into the tightest, tiniest ball you can manage, nails biting deep into your arms, rocking yourself, with a silent scream choking in your throat. You can't breathe.
You don't know how much time passes before the panic attack loosens its grip. You don't remember when the tears started to fall. You don't know if its been hours or days or longer. You reach out one shaking, hesitant hand towards your phone -
... And you come back to yourself, Donnie, standing in the rubble.
Over on one of the bigger sections of collapsed wall that still looks vaguely wall-like, you can see some graffiti:
I'm no longer willing to throw my life away. If I can do something to avoid going through that again, to keep the people I care about from going through that again? Then -
It would be worth the cost.
And deeper in the rubble, you may spy ... Korone's? dead, broken body? But she doesn't have wings, and her clothes aren't Sparrow.
Her clothes are a mess, but beneath all that, they may be familiar. There's no sign of any kind of team colour, though. They're just ... clothes. Cute and casual; the kind of thing she might wear on an outing.
She's cold under his touch. Lifeless, with blank, dead eyes and blood on her lips and chin. From his vantage point, he can see the jagged bits of shrapnel and rebar impaling her. It wasn't a swift death. Slow enough that she'd have known what was happening …
Painful enough that she didn't have a hope of saving herself.
And while gathering you find a godawful shredded pile of bloody, gore-soaked rags. You can make out what used to be a green scarf somewhere in there ... or ... is it green? It might've been green. It's hard to tell and trying too hard gives you a weird glitchy headache.
But you can also find other, more useful junk with which to stabilise. GO DONNIE GO.
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Or, if you happen to look eastwards, there seem to be a few farming implements scattered amongst the rubble?
The escalator is a buckled, warped, and partially twisted wreck, with steps out of alignment and some outright missing. It sure doesn't look secure. It sure doesn't look safe. It definitely isn't moving anytime soon. But you might be able to climb up it if you're careful.
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[Okay, he's going to grab some rebar. Judge this escalator.]
[Grab extra rebar and set down some longer pieces here.]
[Have himself some pole vaults because this is a good cut off point.]
[Focus on tasks. Focus on what he can do and back up plans.]
[But farming implements are of interest, so he will move East to investigate that more.]
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As you go, you spot something strange amongst the rubble.
A blood-drenched tatami mat … with doodles visible in the few clean spots? Stick figures, doves, top hats, cat-like dragons with whiskers …
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[Going to take a closer look at this mat.]
[Poke it.]
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As a note: she and Kaito weren't dating at this point, so! This is just regular BFF behaviour.
Enjoy the feeling of slow, painful exsanguination ... and the knowledge of where some of Korone's scars come from.
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[Also it is nice to like have some good, supportive friend Kaito instead of sometimes nice while also being an asshole. Now he's getting the vibe.]
[But also that dying.]
[....more things to go into the REPRESS LIKE A BOSS PILE.]
[A shaky breath.]
[FURTHER EAST.]
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As you go, you start to find that not all this debris is from the mall. Oh, no. At least some of it came from the ruins of a destroyed castle. You start to find broken bits of farm tools, some varying degrees of buried, all bloody.
Nearby, in a pile of shattered glass, is a used syringe with blood gunking up the needle.
And further ahead ... some medical supplies that may look familiar.
Namely because they're yours.
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[Maybe see if any of these farm tools are salvageable. Never know when like a trowel head would be useful.]
[....oh. Huh.]
[Piiiick up medical supplies?]
CW: body horror?
Remember? Something that goes a whole lot like this. All the fear, the panic, the distress at hearing the girl she's started to see as a little sister suffering behind her.
All the faith in Donnie, the trust, the relief that he's here. (The guilt, the shame, the heartache.)
A coughing fit that doesn't stop.
That awful, familiar feeling of a shattered rib shifted in just the wrong way, stabbing deeper, and you're bleeding, bleeding, bleeding into yourself. A crawling-itching-burrowing under your skin. The taste of blood and honey on your tongue. Drowning. You know what dying feels like. How many times has it been? More than twenty, right? You try to stay strong for him, for Donnie, he's fighting so hard for you, his face is blank his hands are steady but you know, you know that he desperately does not want to lose you. But.
In the end.
… You remember jerking awake at godawful o'clock in the morning, alone in your room, biting a pillow. You remember curling into the tightest, tiniest ball you can manage, nails biting deep into your arms, rocking yourself, with a silent scream choking in your throat. You can't breathe.
You don't know how much time passes before the panic attack loosens its grip. You don't remember when the tears started to fall. You don't know if its been hours or days or longer. You reach out one shaking, hesitant hand towards your phone -
... And you come back to yourself, Donnie, standing in the rubble.
Re: CW: body horror?
[Fucking hate that.]
....we need more sleepovers.
[That]
[Is easier to think of then him potentially failing her.]
[Find a solution.]
[Feelings later.]
[Okay, anything else around here of interest other than the Most Sus Syringes.]
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It would be worth the cost.
And deeper in the rubble, you may spy ... Korone's? dead, broken body? But she doesn't have wings, and her clothes aren't Sparrow.
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....
[He approaches the rubble and the body.]
[Looks at the graffiti. Looks at the body.]
[He reaches in, tries to touch her. Maybe feel for a pulse if he can.]
[What do her clothes look like, compared to the clothes room.]
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She's cold under his touch. Lifeless, with blank, dead eyes and blood on her lips and chin. From his vantage point, he can see the jagged bits of shrapnel and rebar impaling her. It wasn't a swift death. Slow enough that she'd have known what was happening …
Painful enough that she didn't have a hope of saving herself.
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There's some jumbling and overlap, though.
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[Stands up. Pulls out phone. Calls Eve.]
[And he's gonna start gathering up SUPPLIES to stabilize the area AROUND Korone so he can keep it all from collapsing as he digs her out.]
[I got tools and junk, I HAVE WORKED WITH LESS.]
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And while gathering you find a godawful shredded pile of bloody, gore-soaked rags. You can make out what used to be a green scarf somewhere in there ... or ... is it green? It might've been green. It's hard to tell and trying too hard gives you a weird glitchy headache.
But you can also find other, more useful junk with which to stabilise. GO DONNIE GO.
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[Grabbing supplies. Time to build STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY and then BREAK THINGS to try and get this body out from under all the rubble.]
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On another:
1/
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Keeeeeeeep it together, Donatello. The emotional release is for later.
Or when you're crying and hugging your girlfriend slash girlfriends.
One of those.
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[Breathes.]
[He's got this. He's GOT THIS.]
Done
[He will be gather those steel beams and use them to help support the structure.]
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It's the sturdiest of sturdy steel beams, and on it, in purple, is written:
Between them and the rest of what you've gathered, you're able to BUILD and SUPPORT. It holds steady.
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