[ the question rankles. everything about being with zoro rankles, but this, more than usual, sends needles digging beneath his skin, and he’s distantly aware that everything feels more tenuous now that he’s a changeling bereft of a witch’s connection. he’s unmoored and it’s a dangerous thing; he’s already lived through the damage of these circumstances once.
he wishes zoro would just shut up and drain the blood sitting still on the table so sanji wouldn’t have to look at it or smell it or crave it. fleetingly, he’s back on that rock, his skin stretched over brittle bone, starvation working into him ceaselessly, like a dull blade carving him up in the slowest way possible. ]
Because — [ his words come out clipped and angry. ] When we catch a deer, how do you think it ends up on your plate? You think the hide just comes off on its own? Someone has to peel it off. You think the bones dissolve like magic? No. Someone has to break them. Someone has to saw off the legs. Someone’s gotta cut off its head. They’re not healing because I’m not gonna sit around and not use my hands. I’m not gonna let you starve.
[ he’s not going to let zoro suffer in any way if he can help it, at least not from these injuries from the shitty necromancers. the rest — well. he turns away again, hoping the drag of his cigarette will ease the edge of his wanting. he exhales a cloud, then sucks desperately again, closing his eyes as he holds the smoke in his throat. it’s not just the deer’s blood that he can smell, but zoro’s thrumming through his veins, and he doesn’t know if he wants to open his throat or kiss it.
he can’t. zoro’s hurt. nami is — he can’t even think of her without his eye stinging. his hand trembles as he lowers his cigarette, resting it at his knee, his gaze pointed downwards. ]
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Date: 2024-01-21 03:00 pm (UTC)he wishes zoro would just shut up and drain the blood sitting still on the table so sanji wouldn’t have to look at it or smell it or crave it. fleetingly, he’s back on that rock, his skin stretched over brittle bone, starvation working into him ceaselessly, like a dull blade carving him up in the slowest way possible. ]
Because — [ his words come out clipped and angry. ] When we catch a deer, how do you think it ends up on your plate? You think the hide just comes off on its own? Someone has to peel it off. You think the bones dissolve like magic? No. Someone has to break them. Someone has to saw off the legs. Someone’s gotta cut off its head. They’re not healing because I’m not gonna sit around and not use my hands. I’m not gonna let you starve.
[ he’s not going to let zoro suffer in any way if he can help it, at least not from these injuries from the shitty necromancers. the rest — well. he turns away again, hoping the drag of his cigarette will ease the edge of his wanting. he exhales a cloud, then sucks desperately again, closing his eyes as he holds the smoke in his throat. it’s not just the deer’s blood that he can smell, but zoro’s thrumming through his veins, and he doesn’t know if he wants to open his throat or kiss it.
he can’t. zoro’s hurt. nami is — he can’t even think of her without his eye stinging. his hand trembles as he lowers his cigarette, resting it at his knee, his gaze pointed downwards. ]