[ Revelation 010 looks like an amateur filmmaker's first shot at a slasher scene on first sight; blood paints the walls in uneven stripes, spatters, and splatters, each splash as eclectic as the last. As Bakugo steps in, a ribbon of blood shivers past overhead. And another. The air is thick with them, globs and ribbons, blobs and sheets of deoxygenated blood swirling in a loose, clock-wise circle around the man sat in the middle of the room, fish around a reef.
Choso, perched all criss-cross applesauce on the room's provided pillow like a cushion, sits slumped over his lap like an eerie ritual idol, his hands pushing and running through his hair such that whatever semblance of order there had been to his weird little odangos is gone, one come mostly undone and the other making its way down his head with each restless run of red fingers over his scalp. He is stained, Choso is, he is red from the cheeks down, like the teeming mark bisecting his face has been bleeding this entire time without end, and what doesn't separate from the flow to join the circling school drips down to vanish into his soaked shirt or onto the floor. (mostly unmarked, save for a half-circle of red smears in front.)
He doesn't seem to have noticed the visitor yet. All the blood in the room shudders when Choso rocks forward, hands clamped to his head like he was weathering only the worst migraine of his life. ]
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Choso, perched all criss-cross applesauce on the room's provided pillow like a cushion, sits slumped over his lap like an eerie ritual idol, his hands pushing and running through his hair such that whatever semblance of order there had been to his weird little odangos is gone, one come mostly undone and the other making its way down his head with each restless run of red fingers over his scalp. He is stained, Choso is, he is red from the cheeks down, like the teeming mark bisecting his face has been bleeding this entire time without end, and what doesn't separate from the flow to join the circling school drips down to vanish into his soaked shirt or onto the floor. (mostly unmarked, save for a half-circle of red smears in front.)
He doesn't seem to have noticed the visitor yet. All the blood in the room shudders when Choso rocks forward, hands clamped to his head like he was weathering only the worst migraine of his life. ]