#falthearth

[latesco-archive-blog]

@falthearth | ☿

“It’s not useless.”

If looks could kill, even an immortal would suffer, pierced by Shinsha’s cruel glower, yet they concede because there is nothing else for them to do. They reach into their jacket, pulling out a fully functional revolver. They don’t hand it to him.

“You’re here by my kindness, you don’t get to be distrustful of me. And, you know, taking my guns isn’t really making me want to let you stay here, so I’m keeping this one. If nobody tries anything, then I won’t shoot it. Okay?”

[acrimonies-blog1]

@falthearth. cont.

    His movements are feline, spine delicately curved as he stands beneath the overhang. The other reminds him of himself, in a way- somewhat old, tired, not quite human. It’s familiar in a manner that makes him uneasy. After all, he knows nothing of intentions, and any creature that didn’t give off the faint, faint solar aura of the living and the good made him uneasy. With his appearance, he feels as iff he may be less intimidating than he hopes, but he sets the thought aside.

    “I don’t know. Do you?” Shoving one hand in his pocket and using the other to brush his hair out of his revealed eye, razor claws brushing against a pale cheek. “I’ve seen guys like you. They think they’re heroes by going out and fighting vampires, but you’re not. You just end up dead.” Dark, perhaps, but maybe such a passing comment could actually do something.

    “Where you headed?”