SHOW:
|
|
- or go back to the newest paste.
| 1 | - | >Aoyagi has his hair brushed out of his eyes, though they stare ahead unblinking. |
| 1 | + | >Among the soft shades of the morning sun, something hangs over the stairs. Something that will no longer howl to the moon. |
| 2 | - | >There's a gag in his mouth, and he's slumped over the same table Kinjou was, pen in hand. In his handwriting. "A sprinter and an ace. Who could be next? Sorry, Junta. <3" |
| 2 | + | >His neck his snapped and drool leaks from his mouth, mixed with blood where he bit his tongue, the death was instantaneous. |
| 3 | - | >A shard of vase sticks out of his throat. He suffocated on his own blood. |
| 3 | + | >There are no signs of a struggle, though his pockets have been emptied of everything. |
