Quasar watched Hanzo as he let out a deep, frustrated sigh and gradually composed himself, finally leaning back against the wall to her left. His initial outburst simmered down to quiet mutters of disbelief as he settled into an uneasy silence. The room fell into an uncomfortable stillness, punctuated only by the rhythmic clicking sounds Gittarackur made as he shifted across the room. His movements, stiff and deliberate, carried an unsettling edge, each click echoing like a clock counting down time. He finally seated himself against the far wall, his expression as impassive as ever, and the clicking ceased as abruptly as it had started.
The tension was thick, yet Hisoka seemed completely unfazed, his attention already back on the playing cards in his hands as he carefully began reconstructing his tower. Quasar exhaled, realizing she'd been holding her breath without knowing why. She leaned forward, shifting her position on the floor, and her eyes caught on something that made her pause.
A jagged tear in Hisoka's clothing ran across his right shoulder, the deep crimson of dried blood stark against his clothing. The sight of the injury was jarring; she hadn't noticed it before. How could she have overlooked such an obvious wound? The cut was deep, the edges of the torn fabric dark and stiff where the blood had dried.
Her brow furrowed. The wound should have hindered his movement, yet Hisoka moved with the same unsettling grace as always, as if pain were a mere inconvenience that he chose to ignore.
"Your shoulder..." she said, her voice quieter than she intended. Hisoka didn't look up immediately, but she saw the faintest twitch of his lips.
"Oh?" He finally glanced her way, "Noticed that, did you?" His tone was teasing, almost as if he were daring her to ask more.
She swallowed, feeling her heartbeat quicken under his gaze. "Doesn't it hurt?" The question felt naïve the moment it left her lips, but she couldn't help it. It was baffling to her how someone could move with such ease with such a deep wound.
Hisoka chuckled, the sound rolling out soft and deep. He placed another card delicately on top of his precarious tower, his eyes not leaving hers. "Pain is only as powerful as you let it be," he said, a strange gleam in his eye. "It can be ignored, redirected, even... savored." His smile widened, his teeth catching the flicker of torchlight as his words hung in the air, both inviting and sinister.
Quasar's eyes narrowed slightly, more out of disbelief than anything else. He made it sound so simple, so trivial. The way he spoke of pain, like it was a tool or a toy to play with, sent a shiver down her spine. She tore her gaze from his wound and focused on his face, searching for any hint of discomfort or strain, but found none. She hadn't seen any the whole time they'd been in here, she found it strange.
Hisoka reached up with his uninjured arm and ran a finger along the edge of his torn sleeve, smearing the dried blood slightly. His eyes were locked onto hers, watching for a reaction, waiting for something—fear, curiosity, fascination.
Quasar met his gaze and found herself unable to look away. Hisoka's presence was magnetic in the worst way, drawing her in with every unspoken challenge.
"Does it really matter?" Hisoka's voice was a whisper now, and his smile softened, taking on a more inscrutable edge.
Quasar's frowned at his words, and Hisoka's gaze flickered with a glint of amusement as he leaned back, observing her reaction with that ever-present smirk. "I could ask the same about all of that blood on you," he added, his eyes narrowing with a mischievous light. "Particularly the way it's smeared around your mouth and neck." His tone was laced with mock curiosity, as if he were commenting on the weather rather than the unmistakable evidence of violence.
She stiffened as his words sank in, the chill of realization clashing with the heat of embarrassment that crept up her skin. The blood on her hands and clothing she could rationalize away—remnants of the brutal trials she'd endured in the tower. But the blood streaked across her neck, smeared around her face... there was no simple explanation for that. It was a testament to the frenzied moment when survival had stripped away all rational thought, leaving only raw instinct.
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ECHOES BEYOND THE DOOR || Hisoka X OC
Fanfic|| MATURE CONTENT || "Careful now...A game's only fun when the pieces survive long enough to bleed." Caught between life and death, she awakens in a realm of endless doors, each one a path into the unknown. Drawn to one, she steps through and finds...
