[What a privilege to finally live through such winsome fantasies! What an honor, what a joy! Let's hope she is clever, but moreover, let's hope that she's quick.
There's a burbling laugh. Bubbles rise and pop at the sound. It's the screeching voice of her phantom mother, but there's a second voice along with it. Childish and giddy, a hyena in human sound.]
NOT REEEEAL?! NOT REEEEAL!! WHAT A BAD DAUGHTER! WRETCHED BRAT!
[The liquid gives an unsavory slurp and the middle dips down, like a sinkhole has opened under the remains of her phone. Then it bulges up in two. Out come a pair of elegant hands with fingers delicate and twitching like spider legs, gloved in white and staining pink with the goop. They take purchase on the cold floor as they heave up a head and shoulders. Though bowed and sticky with the pus, the slick dark hair lopped in a bob spoils the surprise. When Wakaba Isshiki lifts her face, her skin is a deadman's lilac and her jaw lays broken and sagging, a broken-boned weight cradled in the bruised flesh of her face. Her mouth gapes open, the teeth knocked half out of their gums, old blood pooled as a gelatin bath for her swollen tongue. Her spectacles are shattered and the side where the car had struck her is missing an arm. The eye on the same side is squeezing out of its socket, ripe red and drifting.
The useless mouth curls, loose teeth clacking as the mish mash makes to speak.]
COME HERE, YOU UNGRATEFUL GIRL! COME SEE THE MESS YOU MADE OF YOUR MOTHER!
to make you face your transgressions in the light of day (ALSO TW: GORE sorry)
There's a burbling laugh. Bubbles rise and pop at the sound. It's the screeching voice of her phantom mother, but there's a second voice along with it. Childish and giddy, a hyena in human sound.]
NOT REEEEAL?! NOT REEEEAL!! WHAT A BAD DAUGHTER! WRETCHED BRAT!
[The liquid gives an unsavory slurp and the middle dips down, like a sinkhole has opened under the remains of her phone. Then it bulges up in two. Out come a pair of elegant hands with fingers delicate and twitching like spider legs, gloved in white and staining pink with the goop. They take purchase on the cold floor as they heave up a head and shoulders. Though bowed and sticky with the pus, the slick dark hair lopped in a bob spoils the surprise. When Wakaba Isshiki lifts her face, her skin is a deadman's lilac and her jaw lays broken and sagging, a broken-boned weight cradled in the bruised flesh of her face. Her mouth gapes open, the teeth knocked half out of their gums, old blood pooled as a gelatin bath for her swollen tongue. Her spectacles are shattered and the side where the car had struck her is missing an arm. The eye on the same side is squeezing out of its socket, ripe red and drifting.
The useless mouth curls, loose teeth clacking as the mish mash makes to speak.]
COME HERE, YOU UNGRATEFUL GIRL! COME SEE THE MESS YOU MADE OF YOUR MOTHER!