Then Again I Have Written This Scene Before But It Was Years And Years Ago - Tumblr Posts
Moth and Taxidermist
Augusnippets day 4: amputation | degloving | vivisection
Word count: 497
Trigger warnings: violence, injury (exposed bone, collapsed lung), blood, implied/referenced vivisection
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Karmic fights, he swears. The moment he’s certain that the hostages have been freed, those viscera-stinking shadows slinking back to—to his father, he attacks. This man hasn’t seen him since he was small; he has no idea how quick Karmic is, how sharp his claws are. If he can strike first, fast, then—
At the same time his hand swipes a chunk out of the side of his father’s face and neck, there’s a familiar pain piercing his chest.
His father had demonstrated what his bloodmist could do to someone if they breathed it in, during the ‘negotiations’ that led to Karmic going with him. It felt like Brier had punched him in the solar plexus, any breath-based magic immediately beyond him as he wheezed for breath, except it went on and on until a negligent wave of his father’s hand let him breathe fully again. It had not been a fucking pleasure, to say the least.
It is still not a fucking pleasure.
He stumbles, and that’s his undoing. One moment, he’s looking at the pale mandible his claws exposed; the next, pure black floods his vision as shadows knock him flat on his back, punching whatever air he has left out of him. He tries jackknifing back up, but can’t—the shadows have stayed, keeping him pinned down.
The swears that pour out of his mouth come loud and vehement, courtesy of his father as he heals Karmic’s lungs.
There’s a sigh as his father walks into view. Shadows are vanishing from his cheek, leaving him unblemished. “It’s the brain you have to worry about, little one,” he says.
“Fuck the shit off,” Karmic spits.
“Our brains are our only fatal weakness,” his father continues, ignoring him. “Everything else is restorable, but if we lose the organ that knows how to restore things, that means our death. Make sure to adjust your defensive combat to account for this, yes?”
“Oh, so that means your ears are full of shit, too! Makes sense, since you’re not fucking listening!”
“We’re not worrying about brains today, though,” his father says, still going on. His hand goes up, pointer finger aimed at Karmic, eyes narrowing. “We’re worrying about that crutch in your chest.”
Karmic has enough time to register his father’s finger turning black before it blurs, and there’s a ripping sound. Too late he realizes that his clothes have been sliced open larynx to navel; too late the words ‘crutch in his chest’ click together with why his torso is free of shadows;
too late he knows what his father is about to do to him.
"No," he says.
“Yes,” his father counters, kneeling gracefully. “Your heart is what killed you last time. I was happy to supply my own, but you should’ve learned how to replace it ages ago. We’re fixing that now.”
He smiles. It’s a lovely, loving, terrifying smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll be with you the whole time.”
The first guiding cut slides over Karmic’s sternum.