10-08-2019, 10:39 PM
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: calibri; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.4;"]How fucking exhausting, this whole goddamn world. Redsteel wouldn't consider himself unprepared for it all — he'd been trained to the end of his rope, dangled like bait over the teeth of monsters. He was meant to succeed, and he fucking would, he had to, but the longer this chase drags on, the less faith he has in its kind conclusion. The asshole he's tracking down is, well, a fucking asshole and it feels like a game sometimes. It was funny at first, a little endearing. Still sort of was, but a little less so now that his throat feels dry and a hammer pounds at the back of his head. He wanted — he wishes he could say that he would like to go home, but he doesn't think of that place as his home and if he never went back until the day he died it'd still be too soon. Really, he just wants something to drink.
The stuff they gave him kept him steady and strong. It made his powers easier to use. It made him feel good. And if he finally caught up with Witch at some point before he keeled over, that would feel good too. Could probably drink him in just as willingly, fuck that's so sentimental; he's gone stupid for someone that laid him out just once. He'll blame withdrawals for that too, and the constant comfort of roses and old books hanging around his neck. The other canine isn't the only one Red's looking for, but he's the priority. Stronger than most of the others wandering about, too fucking smart. And kind of stupidly charming for someone who looked like a polished granite slab to anyone who didn't know him.
Fuck. He really needs a lobotomy.
The dog fluffs out his wings, the smattering of smooth stripes rustling and then falling back to their half-neat order. There's not even enough space here to stretch them out; makes him feel a little claustrophobic if he's being honest, and that feeling isn't helped by the way his paws squish into the ground. "If you don't make this worth my time, Witch —" the half-hearted threat is only muttered to the vial of liquid dangling from his throat, not even finished with all of the effort he ends up putting into rearing his weight up out of thick mud.
Frustrated and muddy, even his fluffy wings flecked with the gross stuff, Redsteel barks harshly. "I'm going to burn it all to the ground, I swear!"
The stuff they gave him kept him steady and strong. It made his powers easier to use. It made him feel good. And if he finally caught up with Witch at some point before he keeled over, that would feel good too. Could probably drink him in just as willingly, fuck that's so sentimental; he's gone stupid for someone that laid him out just once. He'll blame withdrawals for that too, and the constant comfort of roses and old books hanging around his neck. The other canine isn't the only one Red's looking for, but he's the priority. Stronger than most of the others wandering about, too fucking smart. And kind of stupidly charming for someone who looked like a polished granite slab to anyone who didn't know him.
Fuck. He really needs a lobotomy.
The dog fluffs out his wings, the smattering of smooth stripes rustling and then falling back to their half-neat order. There's not even enough space here to stretch them out; makes him feel a little claustrophobic if he's being honest, and that feeling isn't helped by the way his paws squish into the ground. "If you don't make this worth my time, Witch —" the half-hearted threat is only muttered to the vial of liquid dangling from his throat, not even finished with all of the effort he ends up putting into rearing his weight up out of thick mud.
Frustrated and muddy, even his fluffy wings flecked with the gross stuff, Redsteel barks harshly. "I'm going to burn it all to the ground, I swear!"