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[[ i am incapable of doing things on time but anyways]] "Who did this to you?"
Place One in My Inbox - Questions Edition.
✪ ; ❝ It doesn’t matter.❞Wiping the blood off of his mouthwith the back of his hand, Michael turned so that his face was out ofRyan’s view. ❝ I’m fine. ❞
"Can't or won't?"
Send me one of the following.
Michael clenched his jaw, and his gaze darted over to the side for a secondas he tensed, before relaxing. " Both. “ He replied and looked over, back atTony with lips tightly pressed together. “ I mean, sort of. I probably could but——- I’m not entirely sure I want to. “ It looked cool and all on TV, but truth ofthe matter was, Michael was no superhero. A giant drop like that? He’d end up splattered across the streets of New York without a question.
"You’ve been pretending all this time?"
Place One in My Inbox - Questions Edition
It was quiet for a moment, where everything was still and silent and it was just Michael and Ryan, staring each other down in the quiet of the throne room. There was blood, a lot of it, and the fur of Michael’s bear skin was marred and clumped with sticky red.
But finally, Michael cracked a grin, and cocked his head. ❝Come on, Ryan.❞ He said, saccharine sweet, and pointed his diamond sword to the other King. ❝Did you really think I meant any of it?❞ He raised his eyebrows, lowering his head a little but never breaking eye contact. ❝Did you really think I’d fucking want anything other than your throne? I mean…I’ll admit, the fucking was pretty good but that was about it.❞Giving a shrug, Michael wiped at his dirtied cheek, circlet a little lopsided on his head and armor slightly dented from the blows he’d received. ❝I’m just giving the people what they want. An end to the Mad King’s reign. That’s all you are, isn’t it? A mad King.❞ He shifted into a defensive position, sword poised and ready to attack.
❝As far as I know, all you are to me is another dead corpse to push out of the way and off of the Throne.❞
"Can I trust you?" ((King Preferable 'u'))
Place One in My Inbox - Questions Edition
It was a heavy question. Michael eyed Ryan, silent, before he spoke up.
❝Can you trust anyone, really?❞ He asked in reply, eyebrows jumping up. But Michael pressed his lips together afterwards and sheathed his diamond sword. ❝I meant what I said, and I don’t go back on my word, Ryan. As long as you don’t stab me in the back, I won’t stab you in the throat.❞ Michael paused, and grinned. ❝We have a similar goal in mind, after all.❞
"Are you sure there were no survivors?"
Place One in My Inbox - Questions Edition
Michael held back a grin, and tried to discreetly rub the the faint streak of blood off of his cheek with the back of his hand. "Uh, yeah." He said, clearing his throat, and sounding a little too solemn. A little too pleased. "There was no one left. Everyone of them? Dead." Michael gave a nonchalant shrug and put away his sword. "It’s too bad."
