the quiet and ever-present humming of electricity, buzzing through his skin && making white locks stand on edge. stranded here for several days now, a punishment that failed to yield any favourable results, much like every futile attempt that had preceded it. sat upon an iron throne before mako reactor zero, he remains a monument of stubborn endurance; a few hours in this position would kill a lesser being, certainly succumbing to the devastating effects prolonged exposure to concentrated mako can cause. instead, weiss remains still, chest moving in an unnaturally even rhythm, each breath measured and controlled with inhuman precision. he'd almost resemble a man simply resting, a figure carved from marble && abandoned beneath artificial stars.
she intrudes upon the room, metal boots striking the ground with a relentless rhythm, a sound that rattles in his skull more than it should ━━━━ a telltale sign that the exposure to this much mako is finally beginning to harm a being born from it's depths. a cruel irony, really . . . he wouldn't cave, though, they attacked & harmed him as though he were something possible to control, to own, to chain && parade as their greatest achievement. when the cleansing of this planet began, it was then that his revenge would be sought ━━━━ for now . . . nothing could happen to the immaculate that he didn't allow.
she's cold, he's far too warm for a place robbed of warmth and light. tangles within his white mane go untouched, his scalp scratched and prodded ━━━━ he still recalls her reaction when they were teens and his knee-length locks had been forcibly cut right above shoulder length. nero had certainly disliked the change too. for all his complaints, however, his brother had adjusted quickly enough.
her care isn't appreciated; it isn't born from anything beyond selfish desires and claims. companionship is an idea he proclaims to hold but one that's never understood ━━━━ he cares for the people of deepground the same way you'd hold fondness for a weapon, prepared to maintain its upkeep, able to admit its usefulness but ready to toss it away the moment a bullet jams. valuable possessions are still possessions all the same. his feelings towards her held no difference. she occupied a place within his life because she proved useful enough to remain there, nothing more && certainly nothing less.
his head lifts, chin left digging into the supple flesh of her chest as golden ringed blues look up at her ━━━━ watching, though he seems to possess little interest in this all. expression balanced somewhere between exhaustion & detached amusement. whether it's the results of being unable to fight while bound, mako poisoning or something else entirely remains kept within the emperor. he has never been one to surrender his thoughts so freely. ❛❛ so that's why you've come ❜❜ with a groan of metal chains, his arm moves, settling upon her waist with a grip most would find painful. even restrained, there is no mistaking the strength he possesses. ❛❛ it must get boring out there, i wonder if they let nero out while i'm locked away ❜❜
