the antagonist took you hostage, and i'm a mess, i've been beaten, badly injured trying to get them to release you, i can barely stand and i'm bleeding, but it doesn't matter, you're safe, and you're back in my arms, and i don't care about anything but getting to feel your lips on mine once more / kuai to hanzo .
a shit ton of kisses + writing prompts || @frozenbreath || accepting
▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || Perhaps in the end, they were all just humans; drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal their respective brokenness. Grandmaster Hasashi may be the silence that is incomprehensible and the idea whose remembrance is frequent. How his heart remains broken, with seemingly no life in it, but it’s the suffocating pain and agony that carries and bolsters him into anger, which in turn, turning anger into strength, and in his strength, will he use it to move on even though he feels dead inside. Hanzo Hasashi’s skin may be a cemetery of scars and buried butterflies, he would break his spine and risk his irreversible perishment if it meant to retrieve Kuai Liang in his arms.
The sweet scents of the Shirai Ryu forest abruptly wakes him from his blinding pursuit, as one-track stallion psyche of the pyromancer’s manifest as the abyssal bird’s lament, as the arrival of boundless dawn etches the Outworld’s jagged, desolate terrain. Some things are not meant for such starless, sunless chasms of vacuity, and Hanzo Hasashi always abhorred the ceaseless gloom; where all is lost in annihilative destruction, should anything and everything fade in grind bonedust and cinder as his undying rage, everburning flames will choke and suffocate any lives who stands in his way from the settled darkness of the evil’s machinations.
Despite the accumulations of lacerations that continue to gape and ooze precious jeweled ruby, the struck match in his heart becomes a furious conflagration. No quenching rain is going to do its part and drown it out. But there is no weight to his feet, as the Shirai Ryu Grandmaster sinks into the mire of his depleted vigor, despite his drumming heart urging, fibrillating, desperately seeking verticality that doesn’t come as he reaches the undisclosed location of Black Dragon hideout. Sprawled members of the criminal clan litters beneath him, the culmination of his never-ending ire, an irritated fury towards the vermin of the clan who continually deceive the Earthrealm. Filled with mighty fury, would Scorpion’s berserk rage splatter macerated flesh and de-spined skulls, as painted revolution would clearly paint the picture that it was no one, but him, who had been here, and nothing could stand before the great beast with topaz amber eyes that retract back as the ghost white depth of his eyes give into render him into a fireball of rampage.
His insides are trembling and he is uncomfortably afraid for the exact second time in his life; when he lost Harumi and Satoshi, Hanzo was afraid of the inadequacy and incompetence of his being; for he was a human past his prime, long relinquished the title of the Grandmaster in order to live a halcyon, peaceful life with his family. Now, he was Scorpion, the damned wraith who wielded inextinguishable hellfire, and even when his memory waxes and wanes as if he was a mortal, Scorpion’s ever-dwelling existence will carry him beyond even his skyrocketed high pain tolerance.
A bit of wind on his skin with a poignant, melancholic smile etches his features; amidst the heatwave of his torment, Kuai Liang’s autumn winds encompass his sprawled form, drenched in magmatic blood. The only thing that he perceives is that there is line of blurred shadows in his wake and a vague sense of familiarity. Perhaps it was his own death, as Hanzo Hasashi would sink so deeply into himself, as his chiseled arms encompass the figure draping over him. It could very well be any of the Black Dragon assassins who wished to end his life for good, but as Sub-Zero pulls him out of nostalgic quicksand daydreams of meeting his own obsidian death, then would he gaze into the fathomless depth of Kuai Liang’s being with his stygian, resolute eyes.
“My body and soul may have been beaten, hammered, and torn apart - and everything in between. All I want is to trust you to keep my soul beautiful while the outside part of me is slowly fading away from flurries of slashed knives,” his mind still earns some colors of reality, as Hanzo Hasashi would live as if he was to die tomorrow. He would always learn as if he were to live forever alongside his A-Liang. “Kiss me, make the damned Gods jealous of our love. Even the stars will admire the things we do under the blanketed darkness of the sky, even in our war-torn strife and suffering.” As long as four letters, LOVE, courses and bubbles in his draining veins, the punch of euphoria would leave him gasping; not out of his throbbing excruciation of his pain, but in the reverence of their reunification.
Hanzo sucks up mouthfuls of heady air, before he ascends to lock his lips against Liang’s; draping himself in Sub-Zero’s arms, needing to feel the pulse under his skin as he would cling to his beloved with shaking hands, grounding himself to swim down from the clouds of sinking time to hear him reverently speak the same word. In that moment, mirthful joy would out weigh his fear, for only two of them will be more than enough to face the world. ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 ||