Truth be told, the frightened sword-wielder had a PUTRID sort of smell; it was made evident to the mask maker as his inked fingers held the other’s taut throat in a VICE-GRIP, slamming him against the wall with a strength normally weakened by LAZINESS. In general, the ghoul enjoyed toying with his victims; MANIPULATING them with the elegance of his words, only to eventually BREAK them down in the most entertaining of ways. A CIRCUS of sorts, created through flashy movements and flowery words that were meant to DESTROY from the inside out, as opposed to marring the skin through BORING flesh wounds.
Uta could feel the intruder’s blade PRESS against the fabric of his shirt, as if he intended to PIERCE through his skin and end his life on the spot. The mask maker found it CUTE, in a way––– naive, and perhaps a tad bit foolish. For someone so set on standing in between a ghoul and his meal, he CERTAINLY wasn’t very educated in terms of what he had gotten himself into, was he??
Scarlet irises drifted down to the ground for a moment, watching as the steel SHATTERED into tiny shards at his feet while he continued to hold the other in place. Despite Uta’s abilities and ghoulish exterior making it IMPOSSIBLE for an average weapon to break skin, the fabric of his shirt was still easy to slice…
…which proved to be quite DISAPPOINTING for the fashionable shop owner.
❝ …I ʟɪᴋᴇᴅ ᴛʜɪs sʜɪʀᴛ, ❞ Uta murmured as his gaze drifted back to the blue-eyed boy before him. He SQUEEZED the other’s neck a bit harder out of spite, and leaned FORWARD to get a better sense of what he was trying to say.
Uta slackened his fingers a bit; his hunger becoming clouded by a growing sense of CURIOSITY. ❝ Oʜ? Nᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇsᴛɪɴɢ, ❞ he mused as his breath ghosted across the flesh of his neck. Perhaps if he ENJOYED the other’s scent, he’d take a BITE out of him… but there’s something about Uta’s newly claimed VICTIM that has grown to be rather off-putting. ❝ Tᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ɪᴛ, ᴛʜᴇɴ. ❞ Uta’s pierced mouth traveled over to the boy’s ear, a grin spreading across his face as he proceeded to taunt him.
how convenient it would be if someone, anyone mortal across the world thought of his name. all it would take was a single thought, no matter how fleeting. he would answer; he could escape this impossible wrath. the coils of the cobra continued to tighten and he could feel the soreness developing along the nape of his neck. words suffocated behind a squeezed esophagus, lungs losing oxygen every passing second. he may not need to eat but breathing was another matter, furthermore, if his vital organs were crushed there was nothing that would bring him back. cerulean, ice blues glowered back at his opponent, the power of a past long forgotten—blood of thousands upon thousands that he had slaughtered spiraled in the irises of the other. where had all that power gone?
the closer death surged before him like a rising tidal wave, the more he found his forgotten confidence. scrounging up the deepest, darkest bits of his buried past. he barely heard the complaint as it passed over deaf ears, meaningless to the deity's escape. but then, pupils vibrated between contracting and dilating, hearing the aggressor's demand had given him an outlet. without enough air to speak, he loosened his grip around the wrists of the other. one eye squinted as agony started to burn in his throat and chest, as though someone was scraping out every last drop of air. at this rate, he would become a writhing mess but with a god's fury—it wouldn't be wise to underestimate.
nonetheless, shaken fingers tugged the fabric down around his neck over his shoulder. exposure to the blotches of sangria coated over his pale skin revealed. as though someone had lost their control in his presence, using him as a channel for their grief. upon closer observation, flakes of the bruising flitted off of his skin, disintegrating into thin air. a slit over a raised lump began to peel open, fluttering involuntarily before snapping open. an inflamed reddened eye ( with only a black pit for a pupil and iris ) rolled to life, snapping in various directions before locking onto the ghoul.
Yato's cerulean hues glided to his peripheral, widened with horror at the site. the shock of it was more startling than his current predicament, lips moved but with strangled air, he couldn't form words. the beginnings of panic quaked through his form, starting with his legs. he wasted no time to crunch up his limbs and with his back pressed to the wall, he slammed the soles of his boots into the others abdomen. had the other not released him to dodge or found other means to halt him, the bone shattering kick was enough to send a car spiraling.
