where the sins are hidden [abnb, day 3]

Okay, so he did that. The sound of porcelain shattering with his claws. Ripping dolls to shreds with the anger of a past flowing through him. Serum leading with the smell of blood through his senses. The needs to shred and hunt creatures flowing through him. Ichor in his veins dripping from his neck. Bleeding the anger of the fight before. Exhaustion present, but always there underneath the surface of everything left. A memory of the betrayals he knew the world was. Roses vs Rebels. Blood vs Sweat vs Tears. A game of staying above the rest. Finnagan Davies would always be the victor. Crushing a doll's head, he lets the adrenaline falter. Ichor dripping from his neck as he touches the deep red blood, letting it coat his fingers as he runs it down his torn shirt to the hair on his chest. Pulling at the tangled mess of blood and hair. A howl echoes from his throat towards the moon.

Victory is his.

Anika's voice comes nearby as he catches her wrapping the wounds she's received. "Those things were fucking vicious," Vicious enough to go for his throat. Vicious enough to dare prove a point. A laugh wants to come from his throat, but he's not in the mood for laughs. Right now, he wants to rip more people apart. Tear their throats apart with his bare hands. Ripred, he can taste the serum upon his tongue already. The desire burning through him. A heavy breath as his eyes flicker from the darkened anger back to a normal vision. Body curling inwards as he wraps an arm around himself. Anika could act tough. He didn't give a shit. Right now, he was angry. Angry at the dolls, the gamemakers, and himself. He wasn't going to let anyone else get the fucking jump on him again.

Cleaning wounds with the supplies he has left, he starts to patch himself up. Eyes focused on the needle and thread, sewing his neck back together. As if he's never sewn his own skin back together, he can feel every puncture of the needle. The thread going through flesh as he works. Bandages for the smaller wounds. A paste of sorts made from the medicinal plants he's got left. There's a calmness to patching wounds once more. A memory of having sat in front of a mirror to put his body back together after a bad gig. Biting his tongue, he ignores the sting of the needle. There'd be time to fully heal, but right now, he needed to focus on the now.

"You know how I mentioned finding out what might be down there earlier?" The shovel she has is enough to signify what she's planning. A laugh does bubble up now. Hands grabbing another one nearby. Eyes focused on the task at hand. Anika's already digging as he approaches carefully. Her voice continues as does the sound of moving earth. "Feel free to dig with me." A snort falls from his form as he moves over to the other side. His shovel finding a perch as he starts to talk.

"Don't mind if I do. Wonder what's buried at these graves."

Moving earth is a good outlet for all the frustrating he'd felt from the fight.

"Have you even dug up a body before?"

Finn had.

Gangs liked to used graves as drop offs.

"Hell, have you seen a dead body before now?"

-



lyrics: "Nightmares Never End" by JT Machinima
table by kaplan