[Oh, the look in his eyes is quite damning, isn't it? What a shame that his blade failed to strike his vitals, but no matter. This creature will die soon enough, and when he does, he'll serve as a warning to the others that their own deaths will soon follow.
Blood loss should do him in one way or the other, but... ah. Of course he's making an attempt to fight back, pointless as it is. Akira hadn't been expecting such a snappy reply, Shinjiro's fist colliding with his face and bloodying his nose. Ha. Ahaha. He's feeling pain again for the first time in ages. How grand.]
Filthy rat! You can do nothing but squirm and struggle. Lay down and accept your death—!
[Dragged to the floor, Akira tussles for control, straddling Shinjiro and socking him right in the jaw. Akira is quick, quicker than usual, and powerful. This is not a human's strength. This is something else entirely.]
[ It's a bit hard to move, he notes, when you've got a piece of metal jabbed in your gut. Unfortunately, regardless of the searing pain that settles deep under his skin with every movement, he doesn't have much the luxury to stay still.
If he could speak, an agonized grunt would slip the moment they hit the floor, but only his face twists in turn when his legs hit the tile. Especially when despite their difference, he finds himself back to the floor, Akira settled on his waist and a fist colliding right with his jaw. His head flies back, teeth sinking into his tongue from the impact, but the coppery taste of blood is enough of a wake up call to ramp up his struggling.
His bloody hands reach up, one to grip tight in Akira's shirt, the other to slam into the side of his face the same moment he tries to use his weight to throw him off. He's not as strong as he's usually be, every jostle of the blade a red-hot twinge of pain that rockets through him head to toe, but adrenaline is a hell of a drug. ]
[Shinjiro will be met with resistance every step of the way, Akira's lean frame surprisingly durable. It's the influence of whatever's taken him over, pushing this spindly body to its limits in order to beat this filthy wizard until he can no longer move, no longer struggle, so that he spends what remains of his miserable life bleeding out on the cold hard ground.
The hit connects, Shinjiro's fist colliding with the side of his face, and out shakes a noxious laugh.]
Pitiful. Is that the best you've got?
[Akira wrenches the knife from Shinjiro's gut and beats him over the head with the butt of the handle. These hands are strong, so much stronger than they should be, and if that isn't enough to addle Shinjiro, he'll throw in another whack as a bonus.]
Give it up. You weren't meant to be alive, little wizard. Death awaits you warmly.
[ For throwing all he has behind that punch, the fact it does nothing has his teeth grinding to the root. Akira feels more like a statue made of steel than a person, and that means something to a man used to throwing his weight around to win his fights. He can feel the impact, feel the blood from Akira's nose dripping and splattering on his cheeks and leaving warm trails in their wake, but his knuckles are the only ones splitting.
The wrench of the blade has his body seizing up despite his best efforts, a ragged cough drawing a coppery tang from the back of his throat to coat his teeth. He can feel the blood starting to pool beneath him from where it seeps from his stomach, nothing to hold it in anymore, but that's something that leaves his mind quick at the blow.
Shinjiro's vision swims from the slam of the handle into his head, grip slipping as his skull throbs painfully. And if that's not enough, then another comes, and that just about knocks him straight out. There's nothing but pain, now, and the adrenaline hardly matters when you can barely see straight.
Still, Shinjiro can hear him. The fact it hits uncomfortably close to home is what has him hesitating, fingers twitching, but in the end his hands still rise.
His arms, then fingers shake as they grip weakly in Akira's collar, but he hopes the fucker can see his lips move, understand his petty wordless response.
[The final words of this miserable thing mean little to him, but they irk him. They leave his jaw tense and his fists tight at his sides. Fighting desperately to live even when death is an inevitability is a flaw all men have, but it sickens him all the same.
When he died, did he fight just the same? Did he go down swinging, cursing, determined to leave his mark before his flame was abruptly snuffed out? If he hadn't pursued the path of magic, he might still be here now laughing and smiling and living a full life alongside the one he loves. If he had never abandoned him, maybe they both could have been happy.
Too bad life is seldom so generous.
Rising to his feet, Akira straightens out his shirt, flicking the blood from his knuckles. It splatters on Shinjiro's prone form like abstract art, an untitled masterpiece left abandoned on a filthy tile floor.]
Give my regards to Alec.
[Signed with a final kick to the ribs. Akira wanders off, leaving Shinjiro to die in a pool of his own blood. As he deserves.]
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no subject
Blood loss should do him in one way or the other, but... ah. Of course he's making an attempt to fight back, pointless as it is. Akira hadn't been expecting such a snappy reply, Shinjiro's fist colliding with his face and bloodying his nose. Ha. Ahaha. He's feeling pain again for the first time in ages. How grand.]
Filthy rat! You can do nothing but squirm and struggle. Lay down and accept your death—!
[Dragged to the floor, Akira tussles for control, straddling Shinjiro and socking him right in the jaw. Akira is quick, quicker than usual, and powerful. This is not a human's strength. This is something else entirely.]
no subject
If he could speak, an agonized grunt would slip the moment they hit the floor, but only his face twists in turn when his legs hit the tile. Especially when despite their difference, he finds himself back to the floor, Akira settled on his waist and a fist colliding right with his jaw. His head flies back, teeth sinking into his tongue from the impact, but the coppery taste of blood is enough of a wake up call to ramp up his struggling.
His bloody hands reach up, one to grip tight in Akira's shirt, the other to slam into the side of his face the same moment he tries to use his weight to throw him off. He's not as strong as he's usually be, every jostle of the blade a red-hot twinge of pain that rockets through him head to toe, but adrenaline is a hell of a drug. ]
no subject
The hit connects, Shinjiro's fist colliding with the side of his face, and out shakes a noxious laugh.]
Pitiful. Is that the best you've got?
[Akira wrenches the knife from Shinjiro's gut and beats him over the head with the butt of the handle. These hands are strong, so much stronger than they should be, and if that isn't enough to addle Shinjiro, he'll throw in another whack as a bonus.]
Give it up. You weren't meant to be alive, little wizard. Death awaits you warmly.
no subject
The wrench of the blade has his body seizing up despite his best efforts, a ragged cough drawing a coppery tang from the back of his throat to coat his teeth. He can feel the blood starting to pool beneath him from where it seeps from his stomach, nothing to hold it in anymore, but that's something that leaves his mind quick at the blow.
Shinjiro's vision swims from the slam of the handle into his head, grip slipping as his skull throbs painfully. And if that's not enough, then another comes, and that just about knocks him straight out. There's nothing but pain, now, and the adrenaline hardly matters when you can barely see straight.
Still, Shinjiro can hear him. The fact it hits uncomfortably close to home is what has him hesitating, fingers twitching, but in the end his hands still rise.
His arms, then fingers shake as they grip weakly in Akira's collar, but he hopes the fucker can see his lips move, understand his petty wordless response.
Fuck you. ]
no subject
When he died, did he fight just the same? Did he go down swinging, cursing, determined to leave his mark before his flame was abruptly snuffed out? If he hadn't pursued the path of magic, he might still be here now laughing and smiling and living a full life alongside the one he loves. If he had never abandoned him, maybe they both could have been happy.
Too bad life is seldom so generous.
Rising to his feet, Akira straightens out his shirt, flicking the blood from his knuckles. It splatters on Shinjiro's prone form like abstract art, an untitled masterpiece left abandoned on a filthy tile floor.]
Give my regards to Alec.
[Signed with a final kick to the ribs. Akira wanders off, leaving Shinjiro to die in a pool of his own blood. As he deserves.]