Thin enough to be worrying, the chill air doesn't help Chrome stay warm as she exits the hospital. A shiver, wrapping arms around herself, and she quickly scurries from the entranceway to a less attention-grabbing corner. Her pulse beats like a rabbit, breath coming quick.
Pulse, and breath. She smooths her shirt over her stomach, the movement carefully casual even though she wants to grab and examine herself again. Two lungs, a uterus, a stomach and kidneys, even a liver that is so much larger than the scrap she had left. All without illusions from her or master Mukuro. It would be unbelievable if she was anyone but who she is.
Winding her courage around her, she pulls up what illusion she has left to her as a shield. Acting might be poor comparison to flame, but she is still Mist. Wavering, changing, deceptive, perfect and imperfect Mist.
Stumbling slightly, a shy clumsy nervous girl tries to gain information, fumbling with pamphlets and attempting grateful smiles.
Monster, Monster, Shade of Myself
Her body shifts and warps around her, becoming insubstantial. Fangs grow and vanish, a tail flicks around one leg for a moment before it too disappears into the ether of her substance.
She is not frightened. Fear seems distant and vaporous as her body is becoming, something almost laughable. And why should she be afraid of becoming what she always knew she was inside? Mist.
A low, ghostly sigh, and she fades into the fog, almost invisible. Perhaps someone out there will be able to explain what she has become. Gaining their attention might take some effort, though. A ghostly touch along a shoulder, fog curling against the wind. A pair of glowing eyes in the dark.
Chrome Dokuro | Katekyo Hitman Reborn! | OTA
Thin enough to be worrying, the chill air doesn't help Chrome stay warm as she exits the hospital. A shiver, wrapping arms around herself, and she quickly scurries from the entranceway to a less attention-grabbing corner. Her pulse beats like a rabbit, breath coming quick.
Pulse, and breath. She smooths her shirt over her stomach, the movement carefully casual even though she wants to grab and examine herself again. Two lungs, a uterus, a stomach and kidneys, even a liver that is so much larger than the scrap she had left. All without illusions from her or master Mukuro. It would be unbelievable if she was anyone but who she is.
Winding her courage around her, she pulls up what illusion she has left to her as a shield. Acting might be poor comparison to flame, but she is still Mist. Wavering, changing, deceptive, perfect and imperfect Mist.
Stumbling slightly, a shy clumsy nervous girl tries to gain information, fumbling with pamphlets and attempting grateful smiles.
Monster, Monster, Shade of Myself
Her body shifts and warps around her, becoming insubstantial. Fangs grow and vanish, a tail flicks around one leg for a moment before it too disappears into the ether of her substance.
She is not frightened. Fear seems distant and vaporous as her body is becoming, something almost laughable. And why should she be afraid of becoming what she always knew she was inside? Mist.
A low, ghostly sigh, and she fades into the fog, almost invisible. Perhaps someone out there will be able to explain what she has become. Gaining their attention might take some effort, though. A ghostly touch along a shoulder, fog curling against the wind. A pair of glowing eyes in the dark.