like a wild thing

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame Immensely satisfying to watch them pulse, shrivel, shake, and shudder beneath his ministrations; a lost art, finesse, in all the days he’d spent providing aid, protecting, guiding, sheltering. Just violence, just vehemence, just the simplicity in something he used to always grasp – an unwinding release. Pleasing, gratifying, as they twitched, as they lost contortions and control, as the silent, unseen rapacity tethered to their limbs, to their sanctity. He smirked once in Hotaru’s direction; she’d understand, as she often did, that sometimes the Reaper was buried underneath, but never too far gone. She was successful once more, electrified denizens, nostalgic regimes pressed and vibrant, snaps of sizzling chords, familiarity in the scalding approach. His eyes went to the spasming rodent, no sense of sorrow or loss for its death. There was a roll to his gaze at her hip-check and comment, shaking his head, but fondly, pooling his attentions back to the remainder of squirrels chattering away, clearly irritated at the losses and demise of their allies and compatriots. He siphoned the waves of life drain away, and instead turned, twisted his palm, so fire unfurled. A blistering, scathing reach, but perfectly controlled, the art honed along the vivid cries and turmoil of LongNight: an infernal gathering marked solely for a pair of the rodents chattering animatedly at him. “Perhaps you can have some already cooked.” A shrug, as the flames sought to consume, to devour, to entirely eclipse the forms. master of nothing place; of recoil and grace