08-23-2018, 04:40 PM
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]//it's not bad at all!!
Sparrow tore himself free of the blood's influence, closing his eyes to attempt a visage of calm that he did not feel. Beneath his mask, the remnants of his mouth pulled down into a frown, catching the sound of an onlooker, and the squeak followed by the frantic paced sound of pawsteps informed him whoever had stumbled on the scene had quickly retreated. Good. He was in no mood to deal with the strangers of this land, although that implied there was a time when he wouldn't mind. Sparrow no longer cared for anything but the never-ending pain he could never escape, infecting every movement. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, blatantly ignoring the speaking child; he could focus on little beyond the burns, and struggled to redirect his attention, to escape the quicksand before it swallowed him completely and he killed anyone nearby. The prospect was more appealing than it should have been, though should haves mattered little.
His eyes drew open, trails of red left in the air by the crimson glow. The metallic canine did not look at the Bengal as he was addressed, gaze on the ocean, sharpened claws digging into the sand while the sword on his back quivered slightly. "Hm." Sparrow remained in place, the hum reverberating softly against his plates. It was fairly obvious who killed her, but if he had no eyes to see as much, then he would not allow the stranger an answer to his second question, either. Why was...inconsequential. She was dead, regardless of their moral input, and if she returned to life, Sparrow would kill her again. But people always wanted to understand, and another voice asked why.
His mouth curled into a snarl below his mask, bright shocks of pain searing through his face. "You do not want to know why. You want a reason to hate me or forgive me, and I care for neither."
[align=right]INFORMATION
Sparrow tore himself free of the blood's influence, closing his eyes to attempt a visage of calm that he did not feel. Beneath his mask, the remnants of his mouth pulled down into a frown, catching the sound of an onlooker, and the squeak followed by the frantic paced sound of pawsteps informed him whoever had stumbled on the scene had quickly retreated. Good. He was in no mood to deal with the strangers of this land, although that implied there was a time when he wouldn't mind. Sparrow no longer cared for anything but the never-ending pain he could never escape, infecting every movement. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, blatantly ignoring the speaking child; he could focus on little beyond the burns, and struggled to redirect his attention, to escape the quicksand before it swallowed him completely and he killed anyone nearby. The prospect was more appealing than it should have been, though should haves mattered little.
His eyes drew open, trails of red left in the air by the crimson glow. The metallic canine did not look at the Bengal as he was addressed, gaze on the ocean, sharpened claws digging into the sand while the sword on his back quivered slightly. "Hm." Sparrow remained in place, the hum reverberating softly against his plates. It was fairly obvious who killed her, but if he had no eyes to see as much, then he would not allow the stranger an answer to his second question, either. Why was...inconsequential. She was dead, regardless of their moral input, and if she returned to life, Sparrow would kill her again. But people always wanted to understand, and another voice asked why.
His mouth curled into a snarl below his mask, bright shocks of pain searing through his face. "You do not want to know why. You want a reason to hate me or forgive me, and I care for neither."
[align=right]INFORMATION
[align=center][div style="font-size:16pt; font-family:impact; color:black; padding:10px; letter-spacing:.5px; opacity:;"]I NEED THAT FIRE JUST TO KNOW THAT I'M [color=#b24455]AWAKE