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INBOX (UN: MARCO.BOTT) text / audio / video / action / nsfw Uh - this is Marco - Marco Bott! I'll get back in touch as soon as I can! code credit

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cw: dental damage/teeth removal

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Marco doesn't wake up right away; given that he's spent a majority of his life sharing a room with some other person, whether his sisters or his fellow trainees, he can sleep through a lot of movement and noise.

That's not quite been his normal lately, however. Part of the reason he stays with Galliard some nights is the inability to fall asleep without noise; sometimes it's just because it's easier than going through the whole process of cleaning them off and then heading back to his. The point is, he's used to Galliard's heat beside him, and the lack of warmth has him finally drawing awake, sleepily patting the area where he should be.

He finds it damp and empty, and that gets him opening his eyes; the benefit of training and siblings means that he can wake up fast when concerned. He sits up, seeing the damp sweat spot, and no sign of Galliard in the room itself.

"Galliard?" he calls out, his voice feeling too loud in the emptiness of the room, and he lets his eyes adjust to the darkness before he pushes the blankets back and slips off the bed. He rubs at his eyes a little bit before he walks forward.

There aren't any lights on that he can see, but he thinks he hears what might be sobbing? It's a strange, pained rhythmic noise. When he steps out into the hallway, though, his foot lands on something, and Marco pulls it up with a hiss. What the hell is hanging out in the middle of the hallway?

His foot feels wet, and when he crouches down it takes a second for his eyes to focus on what he sees on the floor as he picks it up. He realizes, very quickly, it's a tooth, still wet with blood and a bit of flesh clinging to it.

Marco drops it immediately, alarm ringing through his body. It's just one tooth, and if it's Galliard's he'll be fine. But as he stands again, he realizes he can hear clattering coming from the bathroom, which is also the source of the strange noise.

Filled with dread but determined to help if he can, Marco walks up to the door. He almost knocks, then decides even if he finds Galliard in the midst of something embarrassing that's preferable to leaving him alone if something is going on. Marco's instincts are telling him something is very, very wrong.

He twists the knob and pushes the door open. "Galliard?"

[bigporkenergy]

Galliard is too caught up in what he's doing to hear Marco's approach, and even if he had, he doesn't know that he'd have responded to it. He's so close, so close to getting the last of the shards out of his mouth, and once they're gone, he'll feel like he can breathe again. When Marco opens the door, Galliard doesn't even turn from the sink, too intent on what he's doing to pay attention to anything else.

He's turned the bathroom into an abattoir. The walls are splashed with blood, with the worst and heaviest of it around the sink. The sink itself is half-full of blood, its drain clogged, jagged white chunks floating in the mess. The mirror has gotten so splashed it's barely visible, except for a small portion that Galliard has clearly had to wipe clean more than once, its reflection distorted by a pinkish glaze over the mirror's surface.

Galliard stands in front of the mirror, his mouth and front dark red, a bib of blood and flesh chunks running down his chest almost to his waist. His mouth is steaming, and he's waving the steam out of the way with one hand, leaning in close to that one spot on the mirror that's still reflecting. His jaw is open as wide as he can get it--much wider and it would break too--and he's reaching deep inside the cavern with something dark and metallic.

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Marco is frozen in the doorway, rendered speechless as his gaze travels over the bathroom. He's no stranger to the slaughterhouse, nor the sight of bodies by this point, but it's still horrifying to witness when the person is still moving.

His gaze is drawn to what he thinks is bloody water but rapidly realizes is just blood, jagged bits floating in it. It doesn't take long for him to realize that the chunks are teeth. His hand leaves the doorknob and comes up to his own mouth, covering it reflexively.

He's still staring at the sink when something snaps in Galliard's mouth, the sound of bone and flesh separating, and he winces hearing it, his body jumping a little. He tears his gaze away to look at Galliard, his eyes wide as saucers.

Galliard looks like some madman out of a horror story, a boogeyman they used to spook each other with over campfires during survival training. It's worse, when it's someone you care about with their own blood and gore running down their front.

[bigporkenergy]

The pliers catch on the last tooth, a molar that's always stubborn about coming out, a tooth that always seems to have the biggest, most jagged crystal shard jammed up underneath it. Galliard tightens his grip around the pliers and wrenches, his hand moving quick and sure, practiced. The molar cracks and separates from his gums; another tug, and it comes free with a wet, squelching sound.

Galliard removes the pliers from his mouth, loosening them to drop the broken tooth into the sink. It lands with a little splash, sinking momentarily into the pool of blood before bobbing back to the surface as Galliard carefully, reverently lays the pliers on the edge of the sink.

He turns to Marco then, and smiles at him. His mouth is steaming, but his teeth haven't grown back yet, leaving his mouth a ruin of blood and gaping holes.

"The shards are gone now." All the words slur together in a mush, and the effort of speaking through all the gore makes Galliard cough. He bends over the sink, hacking and spraying blood everywhere, spitting heavy clots out between gagging.

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Marco is nearly sick when he hears the squelch; the only reason he isn't is he's seen and heard much, much worse. That doesn't make it easier to see this, something that seems to get worse the longer he looks at Galliard. A horrid optical illusion revealing more and more horrific details to his gaze. How many times has Galliard done this? Cleaned it up afterward - those movements are too sure to be the first time. Does the blood go away, or has Galliard wiped it down by hand every time?

Marco lowers his hand from his mouth, swallowing reflexively.

"I'm glad you got them out," he says, but he can't manage an entirely even voice; it wavers a little. He reaches out, carefully, to rest a hand on Galliard's shoulder.