[He commands. And she has no choice to obey, does she?
Toko stills but her panic never subsides. The hand snaring her thigh seems like a hot iron, branding new scars to mar the flesh. She's acutely aware of the tapered black nails. Like talons, like a bird of prey, pinching the glowing number into a small pucker. Primed to rip, pierce, shred. And all the while he leans over her, a monster of muscle and menace. He wouldn't need magic powers to destroy her. She's practically nothing. Swallowed by his shadow in the dim pub light.]
I'm n-not lying... [The same protest, and the same truth. No one died in that game by her hand.
All the same, the theory makes her eyes widen. A count for people they've hurt. Could that really be what the marking is for?
The change is subtle, just one breed of fear for another. Her life is still on the line, but now she wonders if it's not on display in more grotesque capacities than she imagined. Her gaze flicks down to his knuckles, where his own digits burn bright in jaw-dropping figures. Toko's always been the highest number no matter who she met, but she's leagues behind someone encroaching on seventy thousand. He's only a few hundred off.
When Sukuna brushes higher her whole leg flinches. Toko's eyes weld shut. It's all mockery. His laughter about the tallies. The intimacy of touch, treading further beneath her skirt than anyone's dared and just to make a fool of her. Her bottom lip's been wedged between her teeth and close to splitting in two, but even that doesn't keep her grounded. When she dares to open her eyes again one tear runs loose, then another.
But she won't avert her eyes. It's with pure bile and gritted teeth that she answers him.]
no subject
Toko stills but her panic never subsides. The hand snaring her thigh seems like a hot iron, branding new scars to mar the flesh. She's acutely aware of the tapered black nails. Like talons, like a bird of prey, pinching the glowing number into a small pucker. Primed to rip, pierce, shred. And all the while he leans over her, a monster of muscle and menace. He wouldn't need magic powers to destroy her. She's practically nothing. Swallowed by his shadow in the dim pub light.]
I'm n-not lying... [The same protest, and the same truth. No one died in that game by her hand.
All the same, the theory makes her eyes widen. A count for people they've hurt. Could that really be what the marking is for?
The change is subtle, just one breed of fear for another. Her life is still on the line, but now she wonders if it's not on display in more grotesque capacities than she imagined. Her gaze flicks down to his knuckles, where his own digits burn bright in jaw-dropping figures. Toko's always been the highest number no matter who she met, but she's leagues behind someone encroaching on seventy thousand. He's only a few hundred off.
When Sukuna brushes higher her whole leg flinches. Toko's eyes weld shut. It's all mockery. His laughter about the tallies. The intimacy of touch, treading further beneath her skirt than anyone's dared and just to make a fool of her. Her bottom lip's been wedged between her teeth and close to splitting in two, but even that doesn't keep her grounded. When she dares to open her eyes again one tear runs loose, then another.
But she won't avert her eyes. It's with pure bile and gritted teeth that she answers him.]
It's not me c-counting. Those are hers.