( With Hisoka's empathy, Henry does the best thing in not touching him; his own emotions are currently on overload, and any further stimuli would only add to the burden.
Slowly, the same green eyes that had lit up with thanks minutes before finally start to see the room again, but his chest still heaves with the exertion of remembering. The curse had blocked the memory of the silver doctor, the devil that hurt all those in his path without regards to their lives.
At fifteen, Hisoka is small, even for his age. Perhaps it's his small size that makes his eyes seem even larger, perhaps it's the genuine fear. He can't seem to get his breathing under control as he tries to force both the memories and the feelings from his mind, but he feels a sudden layer of film envelop his body, a disgust stronger than any he's known.
And he doesn't know how to deal with it. )
A man.
( Somehow, the man seems like his only outlet. As Hisoka's hand falls into the blanket covering the bed bought specifically for him, his fingers fist the material. He's some kind of angel, isn't he? Sent to take away the pain everyone else failed to remove? )
Two years ago. A man broke in. He killed a servant. He...
( No, he can't say that much, what happened when he walked in on the murder. It's too much of a sudden shame. )
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Slowly, the same green eyes that had lit up with thanks minutes before finally start to see the room again, but his chest still heaves with the exertion of remembering. The curse had blocked the memory of the silver doctor, the devil that hurt all those in his path without regards to their lives.
At fifteen, Hisoka is small, even for his age. Perhaps it's his small size that makes his eyes seem even larger, perhaps it's the genuine fear. He can't seem to get his breathing under control as he tries to force both the memories and the feelings from his mind, but he feels a sudden layer of film envelop his body, a disgust stronger than any he's known.
And he doesn't know how to deal with it. )
A man.
( Somehow, the man seems like his only outlet. As Hisoka's hand falls into the blanket covering the bed bought specifically for him, his fingers fist the material. He's some kind of angel, isn't he? Sent to take away the pain everyone else failed to remove? )
Two years ago. A man broke in. He killed a servant. He...
( No, he can't say that much, what happened when he walked in on the murder. It's too much of a sudden shame. )