you killed me, understood?

affiliated with citta alveare rank: citizen housing: u-1 triggers include themes of graphic violence, gore & cannibalism.

[wallfighterarchive-blog]

bxthory.

                    TARANTINO FILM QUOTES MEME. 

         warning;; some of the content may be nsfw & politically incorrect.

“if you any of you sons of bitches have got anything else to say, now’s your fucking time.“ 

“you’re acting like a first year fucking thief. i’m acting like a professional.“ 

“listen kid, i’m not ‘gonna bullshit you, alright?“ 

“i may be a bastard. but i’m not a fucking bastard.”

“thought that was pretty fucking funny, didn’t you?“ 

“all you can do is pray for a quick death, which you ‘aint ‘gonna get.“ 

“you had my curiosity. but now you have my attention.“ 

"you silver tongue devil you.”

“i’m american, honey. our names don’t mean shit.”

“that woman deserves revenge. and we deserve to die.”

“wiggle your big toe.”

“do you find me sadistic?”

“i’m ‘gonna give you a little something you can’t take off.”

“say ‘what’ again. i dare ya. i double dare you, motherfucker.”

“leave the limbs you’ve lost. they belong to me now." 

"and what do i owe this dubious pleasure?" 

"you are all in my cool book." 

"is she dead? yes or no.”

“i’m the anti christ. you got me a vendetta kinda mood.”

“are you gonna bark all day, dog? or are you gonna bite." 

"i will never forgive your ass for this." 

"you have every right to ‘wanna get even." 

"it ‘aint suicide if you’re already dead." 

"have you ever given a foot massage?" 

"hate to shatter your ego, but this ‘aint the first time i’ve had a gun pointed at me." 

"word of advice, shit head. don’t you ever wake up.”

“you don’t owe her shit." 

"wakey, wakey… eggs and bakey." 

"i called him a miserable old fool." 

"was that a fucking set up or what?" 

"you serve the tea. i’m watching my soaps." 

"when are you ‘gonna learn that microwave food’ll kill you faster than a bullet?" 

"well, ‘aint you so sweet, you make sugar taste just like salt." 

"i’m gonna ask you questions. and every time you don’t give me answers, i’m going to cut something off." 

"under the circumstances, i think i ought to get a fucking academy award for how natural i’m acting." 

"a dogs got personality. personality goes a long way." 

"i haven’t killed anybody since 1984." 

"pride only hurts. it never helps." 

"now the first time you kill somebody, that’s the hardest." 

[venomclaw-blog]

matter over mind.

[venomclaw-blog]

dhrithri:

Ungrateful– It resounds in her head, she won’t deny how her abrupt change spoke such a thing.

Pain is a greater strain, not enough to quell anger and although her expression twists uncomfortably, avoids pulling back and instead, maintains a defiant look at the near point of tears. Always stronger, now so stupidly distant and proud she could admit hating such traits. ‘You’re impossible.’ An explanation, cheap excuses or whatever idiocy he could arrange may have brought a loose peace of mind. However, he shrugged off what she demanded. If he intended to end her tantrum, it merely nurtured a growing anger that eventually would worsen her current predicament.

Serph was gone before she did. Their leader, kind as ever let Heat pierce him without blinking and brought him along to an apparent demise if she recalled. We are comrades. Oh, what an idiotic way to live and she still stupidly lived for them. They had nobody else but their tribe, losing any of them would only break down Argilla further. Her own actions are equally selfish and it’s silly how often she dares to justify them, she needed a reason – anything that could reaffirm their bonds are not feeble. Anything. She’d buy anything at this point.

‘Are we not important to you?’

Awaiting more than just indifference merely lead to disappointment and she can only wonder to what extent he cared and when it began fading away, or if it ever existed at all. Once his grasp eases and lets her whip-arm go, she lets it hit the ground. Stare weakens until eyelids shut down and a soft whimper leaves lips. Will vanishes in its entirety and she drops on her knees, strength leaving her body. She’s hurt, far more than the wounds on her body. Uttering ‘Serph’ over and over – lamenting will do no good, survival takes priority in the battlefield and should not leave room for meager emotions but the weight of betrayal is heavier. 

He may as well be leaving her to die, which she is starting to care less and less – another defeat, a stupid sacrifice made in the name of her so-called beliefs. It’ll be fine, he will regret tonight’s decision and she’ll be sure of it.

Many problems surround him like an utter plague, defiling every corner of his mind until there’s no recognizable feature. He has more problems than this one, and even if he would like to avoid it — this one is entirely related to his other problems. He’s conflicted with himself, there’s no path he can take since he doesn’t like any. Could he go back to death, he’d gladly take the same journey again, but it is a mere dream in an unknown world that is more problematic than him. If it were for him, he would have crushed the heads of those idiots who brought him here against a wall until their faces weren’t recognizable anymore.

Alas, they’re mightier. Even managing to cap his powers. It’s irking, how dare they weaken him when everyone is getting stronger day by day. There’s no way he can enjoy his life here when everything in his life has been a huge disaster and nothing good comes out of this place. 

The only thing he can do right now is letting her continue living. She’s hurt, but he knows she will survive. He won’t admit she’s grown stronger—even stronger than him, perhaps—, but his acceptance is there, hidden but present. The blood coming out of his wounds leaving a messy trail when he walks. The massacre he’s left behind is a small portion of what he used to do, but it should be enough for her to see that there isn’t much hope for him to begin with. 

She still clings on her beliefs, and she still believes that Serph’s demise was his doing — when it was the other way around. Not that he cares, especially when he himself brought that upon himself. There’s no remorse nor regret, he did what he believed and ended up dying, that’s how it is. The weaklings die and the strong people continue. 

But, if that what makes her feel better, then so be it. 

He looks back before leaving, and after a deep afterthought, he raises his arm forward, aiming at the creatures that still move around like flies, he casts some magic on his hands and three fireballs start forming from it. He throws them at the remaining monsters, making them burn and scream.

“See ya.”

[venomclaw-blog]

@zaiteki 

Cape moves in the wind’s direction, the breeze brushing his face. Rooftops aren’t too far from Heat’s scene, and his own people know that. He had to find some peace of the constant blaze upon him which quivered with molten fury. He contemplates the scenery, not really a fan of mindlessly gazing, but in this place he can find some quietness.

    He doesn’t want to be bothered, and he wants to put his act together, alone. He doesn’t want people to help him through, or people trying to deceive him with false faith and lies. Consequences are recognized, he knows – but he already made a decision. Even though he’s prone to change it sooner or later. He doesn’t feel proud of it, pride plays an important role on his life, one of the few things that make him the way he is – and if it’s gone, there he’d just be someone with no purpose for living.

     He hears someone approaching,  and there’s intrigue in the gaze drawn, did someone really bother to come all the way up here? He can only wonder.

[erenyega]

      It was likely a habit from childhood, but even now, after being forcibly brought to this city and spending nearly half a year here, I still had the idea that monsters could exist. In fact, one might say that my stay here even reinforced that very thought–and the sight in front of me definitely fit that bill.

      I hadn’t intended to find something like this. My direction hadn’t been determined by anything, and I wondered for a moment if there was any particular reason I had been quiet all the way up until this point.

      It was probably because this thing wasn’t like anything I’d seen before. It had a rough, stone-like appendage where its arm should be, covered in a substance that made me want to hope it was just paint. Hope that this was just some sort of late Halloween prank.

      …I couldn’t be so stupid. I’d been on guard from the moment I walked into here randomly, so lying to myself at this point wouldn’t warrant a good conclusion. This was a monster, and though it didn’t share the form of those from back home, monsters have to be exterminated like the pests they are.

      But I couldn’t make a move. The nonchalance of this aggressor–isn’t that title in itself a contradiction?–made me feel sick. More sick than the sight of the corpse itself, or the defilement that had been put upon it.

      ”—-…Like hell I’m going to puke. I’m used to this. If you think this is something special, you might want to have a reality check.“ It sounded more like I was talking to myself, rather than the pest in front of me.

      "What the hell is making you go so far to ruin a corpse like that? It’s already dead. You really need to go even further and tear it up like that? That’s fucking wretched.”

[venomclaw-blog]

     A laugh, dry and sardonic. A pause cuts silence thick upon them, vacant gape settling upon strangely familiar brunet strands. Distorted lips forcing to glide northward bound into a smirk. The kid seems slightly naive, but he is not juding him so quickly, not this time. Carmine tresses spilling across his gaze, poignant gape scrolls to forewarn present raven of the danger in stagnant fashion. What kind of question was that? If anything, it made him sound like a savage beast ——– oh wait, he is.

     His gaze turns back to the corpse, seems that the corpse has nothing left to taste, it is a shame, the viscera were tender, but everything now is being digested in his stomach – there is nothing left to do with it, besides, the flies are starting to pest the body, disgusting, “ Are you used to this? Is that really natural for you to see a corpse like that? Well, you sure are a rare kid, most of them ran away as they smell the sweet aroma of the blood, ” Calmed words drift from voice’s tone, and thoughts are held within his mind. This little raven probably hasn’t desire such a scenery, nor had he a clue he would end seeing this. Opinions of his own mean nothing to Heat, sincerely, he wouldn’t understand, anyway , though questions do not cease their continuation. Which is kind of annoying, he would be safe is he stops pushing his buttons.

     Little is known about this man, but for his expression, he is startled. As every normal,  sane person would be. Inquiries have been necessary in the history, and Heat wouldn’t mind answering them, for the sake of a best understatement, and to avoid having him doing irrational actions, such as running away, screaming or, stupidly enough, fighting him. There’s a sarcastic chuckle which dissipates into the cool air quickly, hand raising with fashion, tainted with crimson.

       “ I need to eat, you know. Besides, it is not human. It’s uh, a monster? That’s how you guys call it? I try not to devour humans, you see – They lack of my needed nutrients. ”

[venomclaw-blog]

matter over mind.

[venomclaw-blog]

dhrithri:

It hurts.

More than the lacerations scattered on her body, than the torn garments that only serve as a remind of her recent failure. It’s painful to admit there may be some sense in his words, a great part she refuses to accept and so fervently dies, she can’t withstand any longer remaining quiet. His rejection is a deep wound she carries now, denying help is the lesser evil – he’s been denying her as a whole all along. 

‘He’ll never recognize me, why do I bother…’

Whenever she glances up, carnage awaits and relentless massacre paints the scenery. This is not the life she sought, merely endure for the sake of another and even then, it is wrong to do so. Tired eyes lock on his figure, pass from his features to wounds he disregards and eventually the fallen corpses on the ground.

“Why would I listen to you? You don’t care…“ Retorting despite her condition is foolish, but still dares mumbling weakly words of defiance. 

 “I died for them… for my comrades…” Debating his role is silly now, willing to give up her life for him had been out of question countless of times. Yet, did he ever meant something to her at all? Who he was in her life, all this time other than Serph’s right hands? Someone familiar due their position in the tribe, a man she never understood and still accepted. However, labeling it as friendship is a selfish claim.She can only assume the worst, how easily expendable can she be to him and not a thought will be spared once she’s gone… ‘Is it okay giving my life for someone who won’t remember me?’ Fists scrapped pavement and she stood afterwards, her leg limped but she refused stopping.

“I’m not weak!” Rather than aiming to another creature, Phrithivi’s whip was directed against him. She could barely hold her own weight, the supporting strength of it lied on her emotions rather than her physique. Anger impulsed her actions alone, despite tired– recklessness has always been a latent trait, she’d only expressed it differently than him.  “You killed Serph because of your own selfishness! How dare you call me weak when your feelings destroyed you?! YOU WANTED MORE THAN THIS! MORE THAN OUR LOYALTY! THAN SERA’S KINDNESS!” Isn’t she like that too? How stupid. “You never cared…!” Her head keeps shaking, tears gathering on the corner of her eyes. “Why..?! Why can’t you care for them at least…?! I can be nothing..! But they… they love you…! So why?!”

At this point of his strange existence, everything here is senseless, lacks of the same trepidation back in the Junkyard or back in their real world, if that could be called world. Everything here is not-so exciting, or probably he’s gone less impassive. Or maybe he has just passed through a veil he never should’ve passed. 

At this point of this unknown path, he feels like he doesn’t care for anyone’s existence. Barely recognizes himself, how would he recognize his former comrades? After all, they all hold grudges against him - and he can’t quite blame them, even if he still does, they don’t know what he went through. However, he opted to leave them alone so they could mind their own business.   

He doesn’t answer, there’s no need to. Maybe she has some degree of  reason, and he’s got used to spiteful behaviors, including his, so this is nothing he’d find menacing.  Tiles filled with twisted limbs and blood, the wound behind him is bothersome, but they are weak enough to be dealt without transforming. 

He raises an eyebrow... At his encounter with Serph, he could pinpoint Argilla’s presence - but afterwards... he didn’t notice she was around. Never thought she had died before him, but it certainly brings some disconcert.

While he wasn’t paying attention to her, after her scream he sensed the proximity of something towards him, and with agility does he turn around to grab her whip with his hand, initially he never thought she’d attack him - but seems he was wrong, and it boils his already hot blood. He presses hard, as if strangling it with the power of his arm. 

He released the whip after some seconds, looking at her with disappointment, “I was helping ya’, and this is what I get?” Never settled a finger on her upon his arrival here, but it was normal, considering how she feels. He doesn’t care, but at the mention of Serph dying he could feel a sigh escape his stained lips, she doesn’t know anything. It was his demise, not Serph. Everyone should know, even him, that he’s hard to bring down. A shame she wasn’t alive to realize that, but he will accept all the blame, if that makes her feel better with herself, “Think whatever you want, it’s up to your ugly ass what to believe,” 

“Alright, settle yourself, I’m leaving. You can deal with these annoyances with that strength of yours,” With that, he slashes another ghoul next to him, putrid liquid dropping on the defiled ground. There are two other monsters left, but nothing she couldn’t deal with. His long scarf is tainted with blood, too - but he doesn’t care and tightens it around his neck. Without looking back, he starts walking towards the nearest exit of this hellhole.

[venomclaw-blog]

 coquetting:

【 ♀ 】Of course she’s not her, the succubus can’t even tell what this face looks like – whatever twisted vision he had and the thoughts afterwards are his fault alone. The turmoil of emotions the object of desire produces is never her responsibility, everyone sees what they want, what they sought in a person and their reactions are often to laugh for. Violence included, growing hostility that could be palpable at this point if it were not for the claws ready to crush her skull. Fear is a reaction she causes and not otherwise, this is a fair ground where she can battle through her own means and if strength is his only quality then so be it.

“Yeah, I am not,” she remarks amusedly and her smile does not falter. “But I can be and give you whatever you couldn’t have.” No reason on denying the obvious, it’s a selfish gain and one he denied for some reason she is not going to delve onto. Implicating she cared an ounce for anyone isn’t a pleasure she can grant– even less to a demon! “Her body at least, I am not a miracle maker.”

“Maul, break, kill… is that what you wish?” Regardless of his choice, who would he be attacking at the end?

First off, he chuckles - or rather laughs. It’s twisted, vile - the way his throat rasp against the air released. He lets her trap him in her sick embrace, almost not caring about his own body’s demands. Desire, an alien feeling — used to, at least. Upon arrival, sensations have increased. Feeling things he never felt, done things he never did. Yet, he has only focused on surviving - leaving aside anything else. 

“Get rid of that disguise, it’s an order,” It’s almost a divine insult to him, could say he’s tried to get over past feelings — but it seems nothing will ever be able to eliminate what was implanted. And even if he doesn’t want to admit it, his unwillingness is great, often finding himself in a great predicament over it. But ... that’s not important right now. 

Then, with a soft, cynical voice, he speaks again, “You asked for it.”

[criminalnesst-deactivated201703]

“Yanno, I can be pissed; in fact, I am pissed off,” he declares, generally free of entangling and meddlesome emotions; nearly, he’s humoring himself, “so, to let off some steam, let me tell you a short story.” Rather soured, he waves a hand around his surroundings, encompassing everything yet nothing at all. Cyril banishes what he must, pompous and pretentious technological devices imperiling his viewpoint of his Melbourne, Victoria, Australia.

He, a man composed of the oddest complexities, is no longer graced by her features.

“Hypothetically, let’s say I know someone who is a greedy eater; absolutely piggish. He’s unrelenting, and as you watch him eat, he becomes a sideshow—once you’ve reached an instance of regret, you’re chiming in with the need to barf. Nasty shit; I wouldn’t recommend it.

Anyway, he wants me as a dinner guest—cannot blame him—and I say, ‘if expensive wine is involved, I’m in’; he claims there is no such thing as a bottle of cheap vino, so I put on my snazziest clothes, a tailored charcoal-gray suit, and head on over. Lo and behold, by the time I arrive the fucker has been stabbed right in the gullet! Multiple times! And the murder weapon is the very knife he was using to eat a few minutes prior to my arrival!”

He doesn’t hesitate diffidently, and goes off into a guffaw. “Obstruction of the throat, am I right? Totally fictional.”

[venomclaw-blog]

He has been recurrently, awfully vicious. Always been, but nowadays is something that’s always found on every action he does. 

Once upon a time there was a thought that pictured otherwise; one that he found some tranquility for his wrath. Tried taking this new world slowly, and it’s a slow, slow burn.

Not the kind of burn in an inferno, which might have been kinder. No, this one’s worse. Steeped neck-deep in this crapsack world. Mostly stemming from the fact that there’s no such thing as “peace” here, and the one that exists is but an artificial creation of some brainiac jerks. Having undergone many things throughout his stay, he can almost say that nothing will amuse him anymore. 

A perturbed brow acknowledges this man’s presence within ten steps of his persona, dropping a questioning hum afterwards, “Ain’t in the mood for fairy ta—” 

Too late. 

Whatever, he almost musters from his thoughts. 

His arms fold across his chest, it’s an odd situation. Because his uneasy exterior doesn’t seem to affect this one, almost making him chuckle internally. He listens to the story the man has to give to someone like him. He wonders softly, whilst giving certain attention to his words. 

The story goes on and on, and he’s growing impatient. Apparent in the way the grips his other arm tighter, the way he puckers his nose, so on. And he’s about to demand a stop - but it does start to get interesting, for him at least - points for him, getting some interest of an otherwise hard man, in the most sick way. 

When he finishes, he almost can say he’s amused. It should be usual for normal people to frighten, to think this guys is sick, and he doesn’t think otherwise, but he doesn’t have the moral to point it out ——or he could, “'Was getting bored until you got to the good part,” 

“Yeah, totally fictional. Ain’t a reviewer but you managed to get a reaction outta me.

Congratulations: you’re fucking twisted.

—Most of the fuckers here can’t even do anything good, you at least could make people run in fear, or somethin’”

[coquetting]

【 ♀ 】 Trapping him in her arms should be simple as of now, something worst might come later but it’s a fun gamble – she’s taunting another demon after all, establishing superiority didn’t implicate brute strength alone.

“You’d really believe that’s a good idea?”

[venomclaw-blog]

Something terribly and horribly benign is present in the curve of his lip as they rise; ah he does know he’s about to snap, about to crumble. For once, he has been merciful enough — be it for the new settlement or anything. But after this point, it won’t be a game anymore.

She crossed a line that had been so obviously marked as restricted, probably not for her but he gave her enough warnings, when he has never done it. His right arm, the one who holds his mark — wraps itself around her head, the head of someone she isn’t. Disgustingly it starts to morph into something more abnormal, bestial claws barely brushing “her” hair and ear. 

“You’re not her,”  By now his tone is less hesitant, lips twitch to allow a bitter laugh to escape, “And I ain’t in the mood to deal with ya’ illusions and bitches, this is your last warning.”

[coquetting]

【 ♀ 】“It’s your problem, not mine– you think I’ll let a beast like you roam around in my territory? Bad boys aren’t really my type but I actually like it rough…”

[venomclaw-blog]

“You’re really askin’ for it,”

“I dunno even what you’re talking about. But just shut your mouth and leave, last warning.”

[venomclaw-blog]

coquetting:

【 ♀ 】“Nothing too terrible, I’m afraid. For someone so harsh, you do have desires like anyone else… you can’t hide your true nature from me. ♥”

“Go to hell already,”

“I won’t deal with a problem like you, and if you keep it up I’m really gonna do something bad.”

[coquetting]

【 ♀ 】Even if her transformations were not lasting, a second could suffice to bring up confusion– ”Why can’t you be more gentle, hmm?”

[venomclaw-blog]

“What the—?!”

Enough to settle confusion upon a harsh countenance, indeed, “What tricks are you playing now?”

[venomclaw-blog]

coquetting:

【 ♀ 】“I don’t think you’re understanding where I’m going with this, honey…” Goodbye, personal space.

“Get away unless you wanna get your face uglier,” Being “gentle”, he swats her away from him.

[venomclaw-blog]

coquetting:

【 ♀ 】“And let this go to waste? I doubt it, besides… do you think I can’t notice what in the world are you?”

“Good for you. Want a treat or somethin’? I don’t care what do you think of me.”

[coquetting]

【 ♀ 】 “Giving a closer look, you’re not thaaaat scary.”

[venomclaw-blog]

“—Giving ya’ a closer look, you’re ugly. Get the hell out.”

[venomclaw-blog]

matter over mind.

[venomclaw-blog]

dhrithri:

May she play pretend to her heart’s content, repeat over and over that unlike him, she is not a monster. Fortunately, she couldn’t offer input on his actions, hearing aids for an image of what occurred and it seemed more of a separate fight than anything, even now neither did attempt getting involved. Not until she can realize an alteration in the pattern he followed – he’s been hurt and serves as a distraction of her own target, she can’t stand a chance and does attempt retreating from danger’s harm but not without awarding new scars.

His words resound deep within herself, disagreeing is purely out of pride.

She has to eat, even if it were mere remnants from the floor. Putrid odor hits directly on facial features, numbs senses almost immediately. Not like she can waste many seconds, she accepted this necessary evil and dubiety has been interfering for far too long. Relishes on ‘leftovers’, teeth carve and rip small chunks – forceful swallows, gasps for air soon as it has been gulped. The way remaining fluids drip from the corner of lips to her chin, trails to neck and subsequently stains collarbone – if she were to comment upon the taste, maybe vomit would be perceived sooner than later. Relief, nonetheless, is what has been opted for these instances. She stands on her feet, superficial injuries a nuisance in the process and body tumbles to the sides until a proper position is regained. Languid, but it shall do in the meantime. Lacerations visible and so are the passage of claws on her midsection, clothes quite turned into a rag and perpetual damage is visible.

“Don’t bother, I won’t dirt your hands with my blood.” Guilt’s absence weighed on shoulders, threatens to become fear. Gaze shifts toward him, hostile – does not last, nor grants furthermore than a speck of anger. She couldn’t be disappointed because he did not care, be it for her or anyone. It’s to be expected, she had assumed such long time ago. Why is the truth so troubling anyhow?

’ He killed Serph, why would he not do the same to me? In his eyes… I am no one…’

In comparison to their leader’s death, her own demotes significance– which she prefers to avoid defending, he might not have an ounce of remorse in himself and it’s for the best straying from testing its veracity. Clinging on what can she consider hopeful, he had saved her despite all. 

“You helped me, I’d rather not owe you anything later.” Gratitude is a peculiar term for these cases, yet denying his help is nothing more than hypocrite. She would have perished if it were not for him. “I want to fight again at the side of my old comrade.”

He’s merciless, everyone within the Embryon— no, the Junkyard altogether, knew that very well. His thoughts are filled with an endless repertoire of ambiguous hysteria. Has got many names, many definitions. They matter not, at least for him. His focus is the obvious quest for carnage, when has he not? It’s extreme and recurrently vicious - nothing he can’t avoid, however. And even if he could, why would he? It’s an arsenal of comebacks he has to his disposition, yet he rarely uses them — everyone that knows him are aware of his ideals and convictions, they speak for themselves. 

Argilla has been a constant source for anger and disappointment. She is to him, as a plague; deadly, unwanted, hollow, full of inconvenience. But despite everything, he can find her, at times, acceptable. They’ve fought several times, nothing physical, however. Merely taunting. The reminiscence invades a insane mind, and it shouldn’t — since he needs to focus on what’s most important in the present moment. Right now, he wants them to burn at his wake. Want the beasts to crawl on the ground due the lack of vital limbs until he finishes them off. 

“At this point you’ll only choke on the leftovers, stop being so weak and get a hold of yerself,” Despite him being hurt, he’s quickly to act  — massacres the entity next to him with the claws of his devil arm, slashes two times, three, four... until the beast falls on the floor and isn’t recognizable anymore. Intestines, blood and some putrid fluids is the everyday scenery when he’s in the battleground, nothing less to be expected. Has walked around skulls on his feet, and many worse things, so this is merely a demonstration of what he’s capable of. 

Rarely does he pause in this slaughter, though the small tad of sorriness makes him turn around to check how his former comrade was doing. Drips of blood leaving his lips as his judging, visceral look falls upon her. There are a few left, nothing to worry about at all, a child’s play (despite how they dared to hurt him). It’s really vexing, how she has succumbed over something unimportant, and couldn’t help but feel sorry for her, yet it’s still amusing, “Told you so, anyway. You never listen to me, so if you die it’s gonna be your own fault,” Just like his own death. Something she may be unaware of, but that... doesn’t really matter right now.  

“Whatever, you’re weak so go and hide or somethin’,” However, he won’t insist if she’s so attached to the idea of fighting alongside him.

[serphs-deactivated20200812]

Varna was quick to take as much of an advantage as he could when knocking the other over happened to work. He planted his feet on either side of Agni’s waist and crossed his blades like a pair of scissors, the points at both of Agni’s shoulders. Should they close, they doubtfully would cause enough damage to decapitate, but he believed the threat of serious harm would be enough. 

"Are you tired of fighting yet?" he asked, refraining from trying to cut into that hardened skin for now. Pinpricks of his own blood still fell. "If you run now I won’t have to kill you. Isn’t your time running out anyway?" He was assuming based on his own experiences; his transformation operated on a time limit that hadn’t been very long until recently. The same applied to O’Brien, who carried the same Atma form as this opponent.

"If you’re in human form, you won’t stand a chance." Of course, the Asura still held as much capability to fight him as ever. If forced to continue, Varna wouldn’t show a moment of mercy after this.

[venomclaw-blog]

       He finds himself in a complicated situation, he is aware. The pressure of the Yaksa's body on him works as a preamble for his inevitable anger. There is a bestial groan coming out desperate lungs, his position is not favorable in the least, and he ought to think his next action, as weird as it may sound.         “Heh. You would like that,” A smirk envelops visage; a dry chuckle resounds through dense surroundings.  Has never been scared of his own demise. Being that way and he wouldn't have been a soldier at all. It's not like he needs to be dead or alive, he simply plays and abides by the rules of sicken system. He has emerged from the lowest point to the highest, and he wouldn't mind coming back to the despair. It's not like anyone would miss him, and it's not like he would miss anyone.

        He never paid attention to his that timer those scientist have mentioned. However, he may not be sure of many things; but running away is out of his principles, he hasn't never put something like that upon his base of morals, “Why, little Sheffield showing mercy? Save it for someone else, I don't need your pity, or your mercy!” Taking advantage of the little chit-chat they were having, he charges his feet against the other's chest, it should be enough to keep him away and probably make him trip. 

[kessi-san]

So Kirst sent me this going ”Heat” and i couldnt help myself