[ By now, Bariyan's pulled out about half of his stitches. He stops there. That's enough. He drops the thread, and rolls a shoulder. Right. The fun part.
He grabs his neck with one hand, and -- for lack of a better phrase -- pries it open, hinging on the side that's still stitched together. With his other hand, he reaches into the opening, into his neck, and -- also for lack of a better phrase -- roots around in the meat for a bit.
It doesn't take long to find what he's looking for. He grabs ahold of it, and pulls his hand back out. Without even looking at what he's found, he holds his bloody fist out to Koltira. ]
Here.
[ He opens his fingers. He's holding a bloody, black shard. Hard to tell if it's wood or stone -- even Bariyan can't say, after all this time. It's rock-solid, but the edges look splintered.
He makes a sound that's either another sigh, or a small chuckle. ]
cw gore
[ By now, Bariyan's pulled out about half of his stitches. He stops there. That's enough. He drops the thread, and rolls a shoulder. Right. The fun part.
He grabs his neck with one hand, and -- for lack of a better phrase -- pries it open, hinging on the side that's still stitched together. With his other hand, he reaches into the opening, into his neck, and -- also for lack of a better phrase -- roots around in the meat for a bit.
It doesn't take long to find what he's looking for. He grabs ahold of it, and pulls his hand back out. Without even looking at what he's found, he holds his bloody fist out to Koltira. ]
Here.
[ He opens his fingers. He's holding a bloody, black shard. Hard to tell if it's wood or stone -- even Bariyan can't say, after all this time. It's rock-solid, but the edges look splintered.
He makes a sound that's either another sigh, or a small chuckle. ]
Happy birthday.