[when uriel's sword collides with chandra's scythe, his weapon shifts into a similar blade—better this way, now that they're at close range.
still, more and more begins to vanish from the void of his shadow, and colder still his gaze grows. uriel might feel some of it himself, the air emanating from his shadow—one of hollowness, empty of personal desires. all that's left to focus on the bigger picture. the smaller things don't matter. (humans, connections, these worthless conflicts—)
a mentality that, perhaps, uriel can't bring herself to agree with. a mentality that chandra has always tried to live by, but also not.
this time, a voice familiar to everyone rings out, because it's that of one akira fudo: there isn't anything wrong with feeling when other people are hurting.
and chandra mutters,]
... There is, if you're a god.
[being soft isn't permitted. not now, either, when he has a duty to carry out.
as he tries to defend against uriel's attacks, however, his weapon abruptly vanishes, leaving behind nothing but a swirl of useless darkness. he's given only a moment to react, jumping back in alarm. still, uriel's sword slashes across his chest, and dimly he thinks that ah, well. he had to redo those bandages anyway.]
Shit.
[more pressing is that he now lacks a weapon, as he considers the odds of him being able to rush at uriel and just break her neck. no, they're probably not good. a second later, though, he sees something out of the corner of his eye—forming amidst the storm of shadows—and darts away from uriel. goodbye!]
no subject
still, more and more begins to vanish from the void of his shadow, and colder still his gaze grows. uriel might feel some of it himself, the air emanating from his shadow—one of hollowness, empty of personal desires. all that's left to focus on the bigger picture. the smaller things don't matter. (humans, connections, these worthless conflicts—)
a mentality that, perhaps, uriel can't bring herself to agree with. a mentality that chandra has always tried to live by, but also not.
this time, a voice familiar to everyone rings out, because it's that of one akira fudo: there isn't anything wrong with feeling when other people are hurting.
and chandra mutters,]
... There is, if you're a god.
[being soft isn't permitted. not now, either, when he has a duty to carry out.
as he tries to defend against uriel's attacks, however, his weapon abruptly vanishes, leaving behind nothing but a swirl of useless darkness. he's given only a moment to react, jumping back in alarm. still, uriel's sword slashes across his chest, and dimly he thinks that ah, well. he had to redo those bandages anyway.]
Shit.
[more pressing is that he now lacks a weapon, as he considers the odds of him being able to rush at uriel and just break her neck. no, they're probably not good. a second later, though, he sees something out of the corner of his eye—forming amidst the storm of shadows—and darts away from uriel. goodbye!]