There is a madness in his blood that only boils hotter when he sees how still she stands, how calmly she steps closer and holds his attention, and when he bares his teeth it is an absolute threat. There will be no de-escalation, no banking of the fire in his veins -- he longs for bloodshed, for the sharp, stinging pain of battle that will make him feel alive where he has only felt numb for so long. He can see the bridge before him, and he can smell the smoke in the air -- he barks out a sharp laugh at her question even as he pours the napalm and throws the match. His teke reaches out like a heavy-handed fist and grips the silver collar around her throat, yanking with all the force the feeble mental grip can handle even as he steps forward and shoves his shoulder into hers with the intention of exploiting the size difference between them. “I’m a god-killer,” He spits back at her, thinking of his mother’s divine reincarnation and how her throat had tasted on his tongue, and above him, the vulture cackles in glee. “Who are you, little girl?” |
@Teiran
