a modern concussion
Kefka
05-03-2021, 04:38 PM
thinking "speech" "others" Just like that, the rush seemed to fade. The overwhelming roar of blood in his ears and fire in his veins petered to a steady simmer, and he found himself clutching his estranged sibling by the scruff. There were teeth still embedded in the meat just below his right elbow, holding steady but not shredding flesh. There was the rhythmic shudder of his own lungs in tandem with Kefka's, and while his grip loosened it did not release. All at once the tightness in his throat made itself known, and he noticed the burning of his eyes. The distinct patterns of his brother's coat blurred through the hot tears flooding his vision. He'd won this fight, but was it really worth it? What had been the point? What had driven him to attack like that? The phoenix found himself startled from his stupor by the sharp, piercing cry of a child. He was certain they'd been alone. Tiny fangs scraped and tore at the skin of his haunches, right over his hip. A soft grunt of confusion escaped him, and he finally dropped his brother's scruff. Craning his neck, he locked eyes on the source of his newest assault. A rather small child, brilliant magenta all over with very familiar markings. He finally processed what she'd cried out before digging her little fangs into his thigh. "You've been busy this whole time, I see." he grunted, glancing back to his brother. "Who's this little spitfire?" his vocals were low, lacking their usual purr of self-assurance. |
| Art by Monster |
Current time: 11-21-2024, 05:36 PM
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