| [Nov. 3rd, 2009|05:47 pm] |
Considered from a universal perspective, Tsume being flying-tackled by her--presumably--youngest cubling was a sight to touch the coldest of hearts. Considered from Asuma's perspective, which was much lower to the floor and crushed between a hundred pounds of falling women, fifty pounds of ballistic child, and an unyielding metal bedframe, it was mostly painful.
With something like resignation, he felt the now-familiar rip of scabs tearing open like unzipped purses. The crushed-meat slam of solidly muscled weight hitting bruised flesh. And the bright new sensation of painted steel digging sharply into his backbone.
He would have yelped, but the combined buck-fifty weight of two squirming Inuzuka planted neatly on his ribcage made breathing a fond and fading memory. He wrapped his arms around both bodies--one slim and sharp, the other small and solid--and heaved them off, shoving them towards Kuromaru, who was a weaving, dancing black blur of noise.
There were more people by the door--a pregnant woman, a smaller girl, a slender man--and a rising babble of voices. Coughing and wincing, Asuma grabbed the edge of the bed and hauled himself roughly vertical.
"This," he announced (croaked) to the world in general, "is not my favourite day."
Kuromaru showed two long rows of very white teeth in a wolfy grin. "Tsume has a date," he told the woman at the door. |
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