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@flawedsyntax
“What the hell do you want?” she asked as she saw the fake frenchman. She hadn’t seen him in a while, and she still felt rather sore after the way things played out in X-Force. It was her team now, and she was finding that being leader wasn’t easy.
Not that she ever expected it to be easy.
“Miss the requirements at the front door? Must be this tall with a singular brain to enter.”
Happy day to profess love, belle. For you, I'd steal anything your otherworldly heart dears.
Happy mortal feelings day darling. For you'd I'd eviscerate anyone you wished.'
Avoidance
@flawedsyntax
He knew this floor.
The position of the rivets, the color of the chipping paint, the scratches high and to the right of his vision. Old scratches. Scratches he’d made decades ago, struggling with an operative, so determined to not be again forced to the cage, to that terrible dominion.
Awareness struck like a blow, lungs still, blood rapid, eyes wide and aggrieved behind the fall of his bangs.
Volke did not even attempt to move his lungs, to do a thing but hold himself tight and still, to deny the fright swelling in his chest. Forever difficult, but not impossible. A task made easier when no one moved forward to strike him, to force him again to an unconscious haze.
He managed a breath, tight and shallow, his burning lungs finding so bare a relief.
His neck ached from hanging forward, shoulders stiff and sore from being forced against the wall by a metal band. Didn’t even try to overpower it yet, not when he felt so oddly drained, exhausted and almost aching. Evidence of some poison forced within him, chemical dominion. Neither did he lift his head, the whole of him so immediately chilled when he noted feet on the floor a meagre distance from his own.
Strange, how realizing that he shared this space with another was almost more unnerving than being bolted to the wall of a unknown vessel.
flawedsyntax
“Been a while since I saw you. Was is up?”
Weird... //Closed
@flawedsyntax
Weird. That’s all he could say to describe how he felt right now. He rolled onto his side, giving a groan as he shook his head, hand rubbing at his eyes. He blinked, vision blurry as he tried to look around. He carefully sat up, continuously blinking his eyes as he tried to figure out where he was and what happened.
“Hello?” he whispered, coughing as the words vibrated through his dry throat. He swallowed thickly, grimacing. He felt his pockets, sighing in relief. He still had his gun, wallet, and angel blade, which was at least one thing thing going for him.
@flawedsyntax liked for a started
“That’s a lot of white. Are you trying to blend in with the snow.”
@flawedsyntax liked for some shit.
❛ here’s a thought -- how about we don’t do that, and we skip to the part where this conversation either a) gets helpful or b) ENDS. ❜
