26 and 40, for the violence meme
violent starters || graciously accepting!
She’d fucked up.
Woefully intoxicated – to the point that she could only stare as the swordswoman descended upon her, blade already drawn, reflecting in what little lamplight could reach them.
Oh, she’d waited to catch her alone. Alone and defenseless. “Fucking pansy – “ Was all she was able to get out before she had to scramble back, the air before her cut in half. That was quite a draft – oh, her shirt was torn, the edges wet. How did that happen?
She had to run. She knew that; even with her quirk, even with trigger, killing the bitch would be too much for her while drunk off her ass. So she turned, stumbling, hand frantically rummaging through her purse for her phone –
It was a clean slice, she had to give her that. One moment she was on her feet and launching into a sprint, the next her ankle was on fire, bringing her down hard on the concrete. Her cry was sharp, nearly drowned out by the thumping bass emanating from the open door to the nightclub she’d been in minutes earlier.
“Fuck you!” She barked, hugging her leg to her chest, nails tearing at the skin. “Fuck you and all your bullshit! No one fucking cares, dammit! You’ll die alone and pathetic!” Just like me.
The edge of the sword slammed into her uninjured leg, her shin nearly breaking with the force of the blow. Emi howled and reached out, wrapped white-knuckled hands around the blade. The bite was instantaneous, her grip slick.
The adrenaline was forcing a level of sobriety into her as she clung to her murder weapon. With a manic wheeze, she forced her aching throat to cooperate. “At least get creative, sweetheart, I’m lonely down here.” She growled, nearly purred, her eyes bright and amber.
Of course she had to be a stick in the mud, prying the sword out of Emi’s hands (her fingers were ready to come off at this point, she could definitely see the bone poking through) before slamming it between her knuckles. This time, Emi couldn’t manage more than a choked groan, body shuddering as she desperately tried to keep her hand still.
The handle of the blade pressed back and forth, digging the wound deeper, wider. Emi gave a weak buck in response, jaw hanging wide. “God, you play too rough. N-No wonder you’re single – “ A swift kick to the ribs cut off that train of thought.
Dizzy from shock and blood loss, she threw all restraint out the window. “C-C’mon, this ain’t fair. If you’re gonna do it, do it right!” Her tone was unnervingly high, lips curved in a grin as her mascara dragged down her cheeks. “It has to be pretty, like me.”
Through blurred vision she watched her killer remove her gloves.
