[ it's like the aftermath of a warzone, really. not that oda has ever been in the kind of war that you'd read about in newspapers, the kind that made history and people wrote flattering songs about, he's seen what conflict between major criminal bodies leaves behind on the streets. this is just on a grander scale than that. it's by rote that he ventures back out after the flames have mostly died down to scavenge what's left.
the question itself is a good one, he supposes. oda's kind of up to his elbows in blood, stained with soot and is now pawing through what looks to be junk. he probably has a vibe that screams 'crazed serial killer between kills'. either that, or 'vagrant hobo looting bodies'. both sort of fit, he figures, but he probably shouldn't say that. ]
Supplies left behind, mostly. Salvageable. Bodies. [ most likely body parts, since some of this pods are hacked apart pretty violent, in a way that oda can't tell whether it's from the fall or from someone from the earlier waves ripping the door open. he pauses when he turns to the person who address him. it's...
a boy, with a blindfold on. that's new. can he see? he must be able to, oda supposes, and decides that that's good enough-- it really isn't his place to pry. however, the look on his face morphs into that of a slight frown when he takes in the multitude of injuries. they don't seem like flesh wounds, but... ] Does it hurt?
b.
the question itself is a good one, he supposes. oda's kind of up to his elbows in blood,
stained with soot and is now pawing through what looks to be junk. he probably has a vibe that screams 'crazed serial killer between kills'. either that, or 'vagrant hobo looting bodies'. both sort of fit, he figures, but he probably shouldn't say that. ]
Supplies left behind, mostly. Salvageable. Bodies. [ most likely body parts, since some of this pods are hacked apart pretty violent, in a way that oda can't tell whether it's from the fall or from someone from the earlier waves ripping the door open. he pauses when he turns to the person who address him. it's...
a boy, with a blindfold on. that's new. can he see? he must be able to, oda supposes, and decides that that's good enough-- it really isn't his place to pry. however, the look on his face morphs into that of a slight frown when he takes in the multitude of injuries. they don't seem like flesh wounds, but... ] Does it hurt?