[align=center][div style="text-align:justify;width:55%;font-family:verdana;"]The smell of the Pitt, bitter and cruel even in its scent, reminds him of a Bad Place. That bad place, that hidden little memory that crawls out from the depths every once in a while - he won't let himself go there. It isn't worth thinking of, not right now. The demon's lip curls in anger and disgust. There was a struggle, minimal, but enough to leave blood spattered along the dirt. He thinks of possibilities he doesn't want to imagine.
"Motherfuckers. Fuck!" There's something in the air, and it's not the acrid hormones that stain the ground. It crackles, hot, flitting in the wind currents. It's hot like fire, like the desert sun. And for the briefest moment there is nothing behind Red's eyes, just blindness, a flash of something unholy as he drives the solid stone of his fist into the ground. The floor below him heaves a shudder; his ball-jointed wrist cracks. "You -" his growl cuts the silence as he turns to Wormwood, "Get the others. We're going. Now."
ooc. ok somebody needs to. stop him before he traipses over alone
"Motherfuckers. Fuck!" There's something in the air, and it's not the acrid hormones that stain the ground. It crackles, hot, flitting in the wind currents. It's hot like fire, like the desert sun. And for the briefest moment there is nothing behind Red's eyes, just blindness, a flash of something unholy as he drives the solid stone of his fist into the ground. The floor below him heaves a shudder; his ball-jointed wrist cracks. "You -" his growl cuts the silence as he turns to Wormwood, "Get the others. We're going. Now."
ooc. ok somebody needs to. stop him before he traipses over alone
[div style="text-align:center;font-size:10pt;line-height:9pt;color:black;font-weight:bold;font-family:verdana;"]IF YOUR FORTRESS IS UNDER SIEGE,
YOU CAN ALWAYS RUN TO ME
YOU CAN ALWAYS RUN TO ME