🗡 from adam - instead of a blade - it's his staff. a subtle smirk from him
Send 🗡 to hold a blade to my muse's throat for their reaction! || @karmicgold
Region: Earth Orbit
Location: Asteroid M
The flickering monitor above the control panel signaled that the engine was ready to start for its impending departure. But then -- ... The icy, harsh edge of the staff pressed firmly into Pietro's windpipe, drawing a sharp, jagged hiss from his lungs that rang out against the metallic confines of asteroid base.
Immediate impulse was to sprint away -— in a very very blur-y streak of silver rebellion, but the sheer proximity of the weapon kept him rooted, pulse thundering a frantic cadence against the unknown material.
Ceruleans, usually bright with restless, mocking energy, narrowed into slits of icy fury, jaw clenched tighter to the point of ache. He didn't beg; instead, he tilted his chin upward, as if defiantly pushing deeper into the strike, his chest heaving as he stared down cosmic entity with a dangerous stillness.
Gold.
He sees so much gold, almost statuesque in its gilded authority.
" Well, well. Looks like we have visitors, " he muttered, his voice barely rising above the mechanical blinking of buttons, '' you don't seem like an Acolyte to me, such manner will not ensure a warm welcome, sure someone had to tell you that; and if not, then I'll be the first. ''
A constricted throat could easily stifle a mock chuckle, even with his life precariously balanced on the pressure of the staff; however, he didn't escalate the situation. Instead, the silver-haired merely tilted with a reckless, serpentine grace. Even in the shadow of death, the speedster knew that a single tremor of his muscles could turn the tables before unknown material even left his skin, but again, this was no Earth; he was in space, and he knew better than that to start drama with aliens anywhere else than on his homely territory unless it could be avoided.
" If you're searching for original inhabitant, he's not here. "
