[ Noelle nods once as she sets Krouse down, and then she turns around. It doesn't really matter which way she faces - there are eyes throughout her lower half, so she can see Krouse at any angle. But she doesn't want to look at him with the eyes in her human face, not when she's about to do something so totally inhuman. Maybe there was still a little shame she wasn't able to shake, after all. ]
It's going to look like you. I'm going to kill it.
[ Krouse has seen the worst of what her body can do, Noelle knows. But it's different, now that they're not in a fight. Harder to look away. At the very least, Krouse deserves a warning.
A wet, lurching sound gurgles from somewhere deep inside Noelle's lower half. Several mouths open, one roars, and a stream of black-green bile pours forth, thick and putrid. Noelle aims for the corner of the room, but it still splashes against the walls, pooling around the base of the hospital beds.
True to Noelle's word, a figure hauls itself up out of the pool of vomit, shivering and covered in sick like a newborn. The clone stands hunched over, his spine arcing too high out of his back, his arms too thin and too long, his hands larger than his face. His eyes are overdeveloped, bursting through the skin cauled over his remaining facial features. The texture of his skin is identical to Noelle's: wavy, pockmarked, and blistered with scar tissue. His hair is long, thin, and stringy.
He takes a step towards Noelle, one hand dragging on the ground, the other reaching for her, just as the other Krouse reached for her face moments ago. Vocalizations that are unable to become words escape his throat. Noelle whispers something just for him, and reaches out a limb.
The sound of snapping bone echoes in the hospital room. The clone does not move again. Noelle covers her face in her hands and allows herself one last, strangled sob for the road. ]
Let's go. [ Noelle murmurs from behind her hands. ] Let's just go.
cw: body horror, ableism, emeto, minor character death
It's going to look like you. I'm going to kill it.
[ Krouse has seen the worst of what her body can do, Noelle knows. But it's different, now that they're not in a fight. Harder to look away. At the very least, Krouse deserves a warning.
A wet, lurching sound gurgles from somewhere deep inside Noelle's lower half. Several mouths open, one roars, and a stream of black-green bile pours forth, thick and putrid. Noelle aims for the corner of the room, but it still splashes against the walls, pooling around the base of the hospital beds.
True to Noelle's word, a figure hauls itself up out of the pool of vomit, shivering and covered in sick like a newborn. The clone stands hunched over, his spine arcing too high out of his back, his arms too thin and too long, his hands larger than his face. His eyes are overdeveloped, bursting through the skin cauled over his remaining facial features. The texture of his skin is identical to Noelle's: wavy, pockmarked, and blistered with scar tissue. His hair is long, thin, and stringy.
He takes a step towards Noelle, one hand dragging on the ground, the other reaching for her, just as the other Krouse reached for her face moments ago. Vocalizations that are unable to become words escape his throat. Noelle whispers something just for him, and reaches out a limb.
The sound of snapping bone echoes in the hospital room. The clone does not move again. Noelle covers her face in her hands and allows herself one last, strangled sob for the road. ]
Let's go. [ Noelle murmurs from behind her hands. ] Let's just go.