[ he had woken up shortly after his opponent had left him in behind in the alleyway — possibly to decompose, possibly to reap what he'd sowed — clutching his abdomen tightly to ward off a severe ache. the moment his fist curls, he's able to see his tattoos on his hands move too, visible like veins on the palest skin.
but his head wasn't in it, he supposes. not from the start. he had brought the fight onto himself, and it was only practical he'd get hurt. at the very least, he now realizes that it's impossible for himself to harm humans — not that he'd ever want to, anyway. he wouldn't try again.
he forces his body to get up from his spot on the ground, and he stumbles out from the alleyway. he's not certain, but he's got the faintest hope that he'll be able to find heine again if he tried. don't start things you can't finish, he thinks to himself. don't break things you can't mend. ]
(shhh i barely do, either)
but his head wasn't in it, he supposes. not from the start. he had brought the fight onto himself, and it was only practical he'd get hurt. at the very least, he now realizes that it's impossible for himself to harm humans — not that he'd ever want to, anyway. he wouldn't try again.
he forces his body to get up from his spot on the ground, and he stumbles out from the alleyway. he's not certain, but he's got the faintest hope that he'll be able to find heine again if he tried. don't start things you can't finish, he thinks to himself. don't break things you can't mend. ]