I'm more of the "watch them slowly suffer" variety of avenGER, but I'll see what I can do with your sole requireMENT.
( Let's see... He glances past her - stairwell, oh. )
...But you should turn around so you don't fall down the stairs and give yourself a concusSION. How are you going to listen to my words of wisdom like THAT?
[ She hums in her throat, wanting to say that she's super awesome and would never do something silly like fall down the stairs, but unfortunately with how knees work, walking backwards downstairs is sort of really awkward so she has no choice but to turn forward-facing again, trotting down the stairs with her pinky trailing the handrail. ]
Slow suffering stabbing's kinda hard, huh...? 'cause they gotta bleed out, but if you wait too long, the blood's gonna clot or they can crawl for help— or they'll just fall unconscious and that's no good! They won't know they're dying, and what's the point if they don't know!
Rather than stabBING, you could always lacerate THEM. Tie them up and carve them like a turKEY.
( it's a little sickening to talk about his own imagined faux murder like this, but he keeps his tone as airy as if he were talking about the weather. he isn't in dramatica or the entertainment business for nothing.
he steps down after her, letting his left trail on the railing too as he slips the gun out with his right. )
I think you could do IT, but it's a shame that you won't be able TO. ( he grips the gun, heart pounding - he's upset, but it has to be done. oh, rika is going to hate him; she will never forgive him. ) An idol's body is their most precious assest after ALL.
( -- he brings the gun against the back of her head without much other warning, as hard as he can muster. )
[ She was about to turn around and laugh, to say that she can do it if she—- but she won't be able to, not when something slams into the back of her head hard enough to make her vision go dim for a moment, murky black and swimming and taken so much by surprise that the smile hasn't even fully faded off her face. She feels sick, the ground unsteady but it can't be the stairs crumbling beneath her feet, it's her knees, it's her hand that grips the handrail tight and small mercies that her pinky never left the bannister because it serves to ground her somewhere when the rest of the world is falling apart.
Her other hand finds her pocket— warm metal, rough grip, an exacto knife that she pulls out and swings blindly behind her because it doesn't matter where she cuts, the blade is sharp and it will cut deep. ]
It's stupid that the first thing he thinks is "Of course she wants one that involves stabbing, she has a knife on her," but there it is; the second thought is that he needs to get it out of her hands before she reorients herself and actually, genuinely acts on her stabbing fantasies. Not that she's not trying that now, and it's not like he can dodge another good swing, so he figures out which part of him's the easiest to hide if injured — his arm — and bodies her against the wall, arm raised to catch the knife in his poor (living) hope meat when it swings his way.
[ The blade sinks into his arm, but only the inch or so that exists by design, and the knife is jarred somewhat from Chiaki's grip when it fails to cut any deeper and her back instead hits the railing running along the wall.
She lets out a little cry of pain then, willing her fingers to curl back around the handle of the knife while her other hand—- she reaches forward to where Natsume must be to have rammed her into the wall, to grab onto his sleeve or his collar or his ear or anything to hold him there so he can't escape.
How dare he. HOW DARE HE?? The knife pulls out, to plunge back in. ]
( She can have his collar, that's fine. Natsume grits his teeth, barely stalling his own noise when she jerks it out again — he doesn't want it back in him though, so his free hand goes around her forearm and tries to hold it up and away from him.
Meanwhile — he goes for a Maya and steps on her foot as hard as he can, grinding his foot into the ground. )
[ There's a yelp as she tries to wrench her foot out from under his, so in the process of jerking back, and gripping his shirt, and being thrown off balance when he wrenches her forearm up,
that is her entire weight toppling backwards down the stairs, with her hand firmly anchored to the front of his shirt. ]
( Like the plot of a bad harem manga, but involving the protagonist trying to kill one of his love interests.
Natsume goes down with her; instinct bids him to try and soften her fall, because the "she's going to kill me thing" aside, he does like her and she is a girl, but he fights against it so that he'll go down on her instead, specifically holding her in place to have her cushion him.. Something twists in his ankle as he looses his footing, but he'll just have to deal with that later — any scrapes, too. )
[ She hits the stairs at a bad angle, banging elbows and the back of her head in a different spot, maybe she takes a knee to the gut or elbow to the rib but either way it's just pain pain pain, dull and sharp and deep and raw and her vision is dark and bright at the same time, flashes of light from behind closed eyes and they spin with tears and she can't blink them away. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind she hears her knife clattering down the stairs away from her grasp and it feels like a lifeline pulling taut and threatening to snap.
Desperate, she holds on. She can't die- she can't. She still has to... ]
( It's not as kind to him as he'd like it to be, either. One leg makes it into Chiaki's gut, but the other hits stone hard and he can't help crying out either — his grip on her arm loosens, knuckles scraped and they'd bleed on the school if not for how he jerks his hand up and away.
It takes him a moment to stop his head from spinning, both from the dizzying fall and his own sudden movements, and he can't catch his breath; his chest hurts, heart pounding the way it does when you tip your chair back a little too far and almost fall backwards but catch yourself in the nick of time. Chiaki's grip is still so tight, but that couldn't have been good for her — the fall — he carefully pries her fingers off of his collar, pulling them off one by one until he can move back up a stair or two.
Breathe. Breathe. Natsume rubs his face, stares at Chiaki, and moves closer to her again. )
For what it's WORTH, ( he mumbles softly, scooping her up gently, ) I am sorRY.
( Not sorry enough, since he still - with difficulty, aching and stinging and one of his arms a bit weak given the whole stab thing — moves closer to the stairwell's railing opposite the wall and rests her against it, briefly.
[ If she could hear him, if the blood weren't rushing in her ears, if she could answer, she might say,
"your apology is worth shit."
The lifeline severs, her head hitting the ground first and bending the wrong way, the crack of her neck as it snaps resounding in the otherwise empty stairwell.
—is what he wishes he could think, but it feels like he'd be a little less human if he did. He already feels like he almost isn't, and he only gives a cursory look for anything of hers and ends up just getting his gun and heading back up to the third floor instead, heading off to the bathrooms to clean his wounds and fix what he can before he inevitably has to face anyone he knows. )
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no subject
( Let's see... He glances past her - stairwell, oh. )
...But you should turn around so you don't fall down the stairs and give yourself a concusSION. How are you going to listen to my words of wisdom like THAT?
no subject
Slow suffering stabbing's kinda hard, huh...? 'cause they gotta bleed out, but if you wait too long, the blood's gonna clot or they can crawl for help— or they'll just fall unconscious and that's no good! They won't know they're dying, and what's the point if they don't know!
no subject
( it's a little sickening to talk about his own imagined faux murder like this, but he keeps his tone as airy as if he were talking about the weather. he isn't in dramatica or the entertainment business for nothing.
he steps down after her, letting his left trail on the railing too as he slips the gun out with his right. )
I think you could do IT, but it's a shame that you won't be able TO. ( he grips the gun, heart pounding - he's upset, but it has to be done. oh, rika is going to hate him; she will never forgive him. ) An idol's body is their most precious assest after ALL.
( -- he brings the gun against the back of her head without much other warning, as hard as he can muster. )
no subject
Her other hand finds her pocket— warm metal, rough grip, an exacto knife that she pulls out and swings blindly behind her because it doesn't matter where she cuts, the blade is sharp and it will cut deep. ]
no subject
It's stupid that the first thing he thinks is "Of course she wants one that involves stabbing, she has a knife on her," but there it is; the second thought is that he needs to get it out of her hands before she reorients herself and actually, genuinely acts on her stabbing fantasies. Not that she's not trying that now, and it's not like he can dodge another good swing, so he figures out which part of him's the easiest to hide if injured — his arm — and bodies her against the wall, arm raised to catch the knife in his poor (living) hope meat when it swings his way.
Ow, but, you know, anything to live. )
no subject
She lets out a little cry of pain then, willing her fingers to curl back around the handle of the knife while her other hand—- she reaches forward to where Natsume must be to have rammed her into the wall, to grab onto his sleeve or his collar or his ear or anything to hold him there so he can't escape.
How dare he. HOW DARE HE?? The knife pulls out, to plunge back in. ]
no subject
Meanwhile — he goes for a Maya and steps on her foot as hard as he can, grinding his foot into the ground. )
no subject
that is her entire weight toppling backwards down the stairs, with her hand firmly anchored to the front of his shirt. ]
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Natsume goes down with her; instinct bids him to try and soften her fall, because the "she's going to kill me thing" aside, he does like her and she is a girl, but he fights against it so that he'll go down on her instead, specifically holding her in place to have her cushion him.. Something twists in his ankle as he looses his footing, but he'll just have to deal with that later — any scrapes, too. )
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Desperate, she holds on. She can't die- she can't. She still has to... ]
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It takes him a moment to stop his head from spinning, both from the dizzying fall and his own sudden movements, and he can't catch his breath; his chest hurts, heart pounding the way it does when you tip your chair back a little too far and almost fall backwards but catch yourself in the nick of time. Chiaki's grip is still so tight, but that couldn't have been good for her — the fall — he carefully pries her fingers off of his collar, pulling them off one by one until he can move back up a stair or two.
Breathe. Breathe. Natsume rubs his face, stares at Chiaki, and moves closer to her again. )
For what it's WORTH, ( he mumbles softly, scooping her up gently, ) I am sorRY.
( Not sorry enough, since he still - with difficulty, aching and stinging and one of his arms a bit weak given the whole stab thing — moves closer to the stairwell's railing opposite the wall and rests her against it, briefly.
Then he pushes her up and over the railing. )
no subject
"your apology is worth shit."
The lifeline severs, her head hitting the ground first and bending the wrong way, the crack of her neck as it snaps resounding in the otherwise empty stairwell.
Chiaki Kudo is dead. ]
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—is what he wishes he could think, but it feels like he'd be a little less human if he did. He already feels like he almost isn't, and he only gives a cursory look for anything of hers and ends up just getting his gun and heading back up to the third floor instead, heading off to the bathrooms to clean his wounds and fix what he can before he inevitably has to face anyone he knows. )