afierosii

[afierosii]

          tevis feels himself hit the ground only distantly as his body repeats the sensation of yor’s fist connecting with his face - like an echo. his eyes roll back and expression shifts, though he doesn’t notice the way he rolls onto his back as the blood starts to pool in his throat. he doesn’t fight it. no more than his body does instinctively. ever human, he supposes. no amount of void running through his veins will change that. no amount of desperation for something outside of his self imposed blanket of static will change the way his body twitches and spasms in desperation. 

         maybe he prefers it that way? there’s nothing more real than dying. nothing more grounding than feeling that last breath eek out from tattered lungs behind broken ribs. a fist clenches in his own cloak, hard and unforgiving even as breath slows to a gurgling wheeze and the last strings of his energy are lost to a bloodied cough. the life leaves him in a slow, drawn out breath and tevis goes still there on the ground.

          it isn’t long before his ghost, shaded deep purple and as twitchy as the hunter himself, materialises above the prone figure. it watches yor for a long moment, suspicious and eye narrowed before buzz pulls the lingering light from around them and works it through his guardian’s frame. it always takes longer with tevis, the two of them pinned it on the void interference. tevis never minded, though. always felt more alive the longer he spends this close to death. only a few moments pass before the hunter’s frame is lurching upright with an agonising gasp, eyes wide and chest heaving as the light surges through him. the coughing and the spluttering doesn’t stop even as tevis drinks down air and finds himself hunched over on hands and knees staring hard at the ground. 

          “reckon--y’ live up--- t’ that reputation---y’know?” his voice is distant, the echo is back in his mind and there’s a curse under his breath. not enough. slowly, head turns to rake his gaze over the larger man. “got--got anymore ideas? whatever y’ want--go t’ town--”

@afierosii​ said:

he’s already bloodied and bruised when yor takes the front of his cloak in a fist, eyes half lidded and glazed over despite the bloody, toothy grin he sends up toward the larger man. hands hang loose by his sides as tevis watches yor the best he can. “y’ done–yet? i ain’t–even–feelin’ it–yet–” a splutter of blood and spittle paints the hunter’s lips as he quirks a brow at the monster above him. the static of the void is distant now, though incessant as ever. he needs more.

   Yor’s never found himself quite so pleased to have met someone with a Ghost, that little gnat of Light that’d bring someone back from just about anything. There is an aspect of desire here that sits low in his gut and an itch waiting to be scratched, though not one he is willing to sate with Tevis. The whispers want that final death and he isn’t going to let them have it, not yet, perhaps not ever if Tevis wanted to keep playing this game. 

   “Just have to kill you then,” he answers back. The Human body can only take so much before it breaks, even when it came to Guardians, more so without a Ghost healing those wounds. He wonders just briefly what they think about the whole situation, before reeling his fist back and letting it connect with the bridge of Tevis’ nose. That follow through forces broken bone deep into the wound and he knows well enough that the damage will lead to death, soon enough. 

   The grasp on Tevis goes slack and he lets the Hunter crumple down to the floor, reaching back to take his own cloak and wipe red into its fabric off plated knuckles. Without much care for the violence he has dealt out Yor goes to sit down nearby, patient as ever for everything that comes after. 

   Maybe the man will take that other approach to the problem, if he isn’t satisfied with this one, again. 

#notpetals #tevis larsen / ic. #ask to tag // #hehehehhehe

[afierosii]

finally drew my take on tevis larsen the other night hehehe

#OOC. #tevis larsen / revelant. #tevis larsen / visage. #mine. #i slap this bad boy down on the table #perceive him

[afierosii]

Diego Luna as Captain Cassian Jeron Andor ROGUE ONE: A STAR WARS STORY (2016)

#gif // #andal brask / visage. #thinkin about andal on this fine day

[afierosii]

          andal brask doesn’t consider himself a betting man. not where his life is concerned, anyway. someone who spends months at a time drowning over and over again in an endless ocean doesn’t get that choice, he thinks. but this is different. this is dredgen yor. he’s heard the stories, been told of the intel and the danger. maybe it’s his status as a hunter that made him search the man out. that wanted to come face to face with the monster like he was some kell who wandered too far or a hive who took a wrong turn. now, though, andal thinks that he should have kept watch from his usual distance. 

          sniper rifle’s no good at this range. not against someone like this. even if andal got to move fast and far enough to line up a decent shot, he’ll get blasted in the process. or maybe he’ll just get to watch the larger man dip his shoulder and flatten him. either way, not gonna work. and he’s not been concentrating long enough to coalesce his light and use it here. gotta go the old fashioned way, he supposes. 

          “only almost? gotta say, that stings--” andal doesn’t move. keeps his rifle raised and pointed but makes a point to relax his grip on the trigger. a gesture of peace, maybe.”’sides--hope ain’t got nothin’ ta do w’ it. takin’ you down ain’t my goal - ‘less y’ decide that for me, hm?”

@afierosii​ said: [ point + gun ]  ok but consider. andal with his sniper rifle

[ point + gun ]   your muse holding mine at gun point.

   Eyes trace along the barrel of a weapon as long as the man is tall, grin twitching at the corner of his concealed maw Yor holds no worry for himself. In mock surrender his hands raise and palms face outwards towards the other. He knows well enough who this man is. 

   “Almost honored to see that the Vanguard themselves think I am enough of a threat to come out here, personally,” he speaks on casual tone. “Fortune doesn’t favor you Hunters, though, now does it?” 

   How many had taken the call, and died? Far more than the Titans or Warlocks, this breed of Risen was only ever made to perish, it seemed.

   “Do you hope that gun is going to keep you safe? You won’t like where this goes, if it can’t bring me down.” 

#notpetals #andal brask / ic. #owo??

[afierosii]

cybled

shiro watches through hooded optics as andal rolls over, the light from them bathing the other hunter’s face in soft cyan. he doesn’t pull away andal takes his hand and presses it to that same spot again ; doesn’t even flinch. it feels good, tonight, like it has so many other nights, in a way he has no words for. doesn’t bother searching for them. andal understands. always has, he thinks.

“ i think they’d just fire you, ”   he answers, voice warm with amusement, facial plates shifting in the exo approximation of a grin. his optics flick from his hand at andal’s chest to his eyes.   “ on second thought, maybe you should bring a gun. think it’d go over nice n’ smooth. ”

he laughs, so that andal knows he doesn’t mean it in the slightest, that any bitterness he might have felt had been stifled a long time ago. you still holdin’ that grudge? cayde had asked him some months back. when shiro had answered no, cayde only laughed and winked. and that was okay. he only needed andal to believe him, really. 

on instinct he shuts his eyes, shifts closer so that he can rest his forehead against andal’s. in that darkness he focuses on the hunter vanguard’s breathing, the steady soothing beat of his head beneath his hand, the way his light reaches out like a balm against his static energy. his whispers then, his voice slightly hazy, his face still creased in a smile:   “ i could bring a gun, though. just say th’ word, boss. ”

          it feels like the only thing they’re missing now is the heat of a campfire and the sounds of the wilds around them. it’s quiet in the last city at night. compared to the constant buzz of the edz and the creatures that inhabit it. andal misses it. he’s not ashamed to admit that. but he’s a man of his word and so here he will stay. he will let it consume him and suffocate him and rise up, up until he can no longer see the surface. if that’s what he has to do. he misses shiro, too. misses how easy it used to be. the vanguard isn’t self absorbed enough to miss the obvious distaste in places to his new appointment. thinks he shares the feeling, really. 

          shiro leans closer still and andal lets him. lets him come closer until they’re touching and he can’t help the sigh as he feels warm metal press against his skin. this is shiro, comfortable and close and andal doesn’t want him any other way. doesn’t want the distant hunter that he knew before. wants him open and trusting and close just like they are now. he knows it now in his chest like he knows he needs to breathe to stay afloat here. “ah... that’d be a fair bit’ve paperwork to fill out though, four. i’d be stuck here even longer after dark--” a gamble, then, as hand lifts to rest feather light atop exo’s ribcage. touch is gentle and poised, like he’s waiting on his trigger. shiro moves and andal will too. “--can’t be sneakin’ me out when they got me tellin’ ‘em why my best scout went an’ brought a gun in now, can i?” 

          his voice is barely above a whisper despite the lighthearted tones as the hunter allows himself to close his eyes and lets his lips curl upward to a soft smile. he can pretend, when they’re like this, that nothing ever changed. that they’re still on their draw together and that shiro doesn’t hold anything against him bar maybe one or two stolen kills out on their patrols. andal doesn’t move when he speaks next, doesn’t really think about it, either. “yer one’ve th’ good ones, y’ know that four?”

#cybled's shiro-4. #andal brask / ic. #i drop this on top of u and then run away

[afierosii]

notpetals

   A laugh rolls through Yor’s throat, genuine amusement playing into it, smile of teeth for Tevis to see in full. Not only had the words kept it there and menacing but that reaction, sweetly tantalizing, body under his touch and free to use. 

   “Not fun? Mm, if that were true you would not keep coming back.” 

   The dull throb in his throat matches how it feels for the other to move atop him, only on thighs, rest of his lap covered in metal for protection. He can remove it later if they get that far. With Tevis, there really is no telling how the moment was going to go because it often swung in either direction.

   “Don’t think how I feel matters, does it?” Always about the man in his lap, he came here for something and if he wanted it, he would have to ask lest Yor picks wrong. Bound to happen. Did he care? Not at all. This game was fun and so long as it remained such Yor will continue to indulge. 

   Fingers tighten and present that ever lasting threat to Tevis. He better pick something or death will come and claim him in just a few short moments. Tight, tighter, squeezing so no air can pass and it won’t take much more to crush his windpipe now. 

   “Nothing to say?” A grand display of malice ignites within the Dredgen’s gaze, thrill of the kill, though not one that is going to be by any means permanent. 

          ah. there it is. the rush down his spine. the one that feels like blood and adrenaline and life all at once. tevis’ breath catches at yor’s hand and everything else fades away to nothing as the hunter’s hips twitch and purple tinted hues threaten to roll back into his head. he doesn’t fight it. doesn’t resist as the burn settles in his chest and tightens ‘round his ribcage the longer and harder yor’s hand stays there. the static is gone. he can’t hear the whispers of the void inching closer and closer to his mind and his light. can’t feel the cold as it leeches into his skin and leaves the nightstalker numb to the world. no. everything is alight with a fire only yor can bring. only yor can start. only the fear and excitement and dread all rolled into one. 

          but, alas, tevis doesn’t plan on dying just yet. they’ll get to that point. probably. more than likely. no. tevis wants him to drag it out. make him feel every inch that the dredgen takes. so, lips part in a breathless gasp as his chest heaves instinctively. as the grip at his throat remains and tevis’ expression twists from bliss to fear. as his eyebrows furrow and mouth opens in a choked noise deep in his throat. hands shift, now. one at the dredgen’s chest pushing back halfheartedly and another at the wrist of the hand choking the air from the smaller man. his vision spins as tevis looks to yor and lips turn upward in a grin. something wild and untamed. something that wants whatever they’re about to dive into. that wants that and everything else. 

          voice is gasped, wheezed through the hand at his throat. that’s one way to shut him up, tevis supposes. he wonders what other ways yor could think of while they’re here. as he grinds his hips down against the larger man’s own. “how--’bout--both?” give me everything you have and more.

#notpetals #tevis larsen / ic. #suggestive // #i show up to post this and then probably vanish again lmao

[afierosii]

notpetals

   Yes, he would like to know. The grip he holds loosens for a moment just so he can ghost trails down across the fabric in numb thought, feeling the cool energy below, how the Void runs freely out of Tevis. That Light is nearly intoxicating for him, a monster made to eat it. Yor’s gotten proficient at ignoring how the Bones demand that the shining source be snuffed out so that their is only the Dark left behind- it isn’t nearly as fun when it leaves him alone.

   “Three guesses,” Yor echoes back. His hands are still on the move though one now sits in the crook of leg and hip, digging into the outline of bone. “I do not need to guess to know you want to feel something.” 

   The other hand has slipped up between the two of them, fingers winding around Tevis’s throat with his thumb on the man’s pulse. It wouldn’t take much to kill him, like this. Bright eyes roam freely and he breathes out a hum. “Maybe I don’t need to guess, fairly certain you’ll show me.”

          "yer no fun, y’ hear that?” though any bite to his voice evaporates the second yor’s hands start to move. the second they carve lines and shapes through the thick static of void that settles around his frame the longer tevis goes without break from it. the thing that cuts him off from the real world, that drags him down further and further away from everyone else around him. yor’s fingers dig into his flesh and tevis’ eyes light up with something wild. something alive. 

          hips shift just enough to make yor’s thumb press harder, pressing against strong hands enough that it makes him dizzy already. then hand finds his throat and tevis’ expression shifts to barely contained fear for a split second. he could kill him here. just like that. and tevis lets him. he’s pretty sure he’d let the man kill him, too. if he was that way inclined. anything to feel more than the void. anything to be reminded that he’s real. that he’s here and alive and has a beating heart. yor’s hand wraps around his throat and tevis’ chin lifts as he presses forward into it. as he feels his mouth curl into an animalistic sneer.

          “what way are y’ feelin’ today, then? somethin’ fast an’ hard? or somethin’ w’ a little more... bite?”

#notpetals #tevis larsen / ic. #i hat eit here #i hate him

[afierosii]

         tevis larsen wasn’t one for rules. he doesn’t hold himself to them, doesn’t set them for himself. the void doesn’t care about someone’s personalised set of rules, why should he? the void only wants to consume and destroy. he thinks that it’s simpler that way, anyway. but, that doesn’t often account for the body trapped between the two. a human body trapped between a mind’s lack of care and the void’s weight and cold. 

          “ah, wouldn’t you like to know?” voice is smooth, low and all but echoes when it falls from cold lips as tevis exhales a slow sigh against yor’s skin. breath is cold, muted as void tinted hues close slowly. fingertips burying in his thighs only roots tevis in deeper as hands rest casually atop yor’s shoulders, fingers hooking against the back of his neck. he anchors him in, watching features closely, the violet in his hues swimming in pale blue as lips curl into a lopsided grin. “you get... hm. three guesses.”

@afierosii​ said: tevis, sitting himself in yor’s lap all casual like

   A deep hum reverberates in the Dredgen’s chest, hands coming up to settle on the tops of the other’s thighs while head cants to the side. Tevis, again. There’s the hints of a thin grin pulling in the corners of Yor’s maw as he leans back into his seat fully. 

   “Look who’s back. What reason do you have, this time?”

   Fingers curl into muscle just slightly, perhaps testing the waters. Which poison did the man of Void come searching for? Sometimes it wasn’t one, a multitude combined, left them both a right mess but Yor never found it to be anything less than enjoyable. 

#notpetals #tevis larsen / ic. #man i fucking hate tevis

[afierosii]

         it’s like learning to fight all over again, he thinks. like learning his way through the wilds and around eliksni politics again. the tower is another world. one with it’s own challenges that set out new rules for the hunter to learn. ones that never brought with them the same level of adrenaline or the same rush of pride as he got in the wilds with his finger on a trigger and gaze aimed down a scope. but, it was something. and at this rate he’s just happy if he does anything. if he manages to help someone or something. if he manages to file paperwork on time or direct another fledgling hunter in the right direction in a more... gentle way than he was given when he first found roost at the tower. still, it’s something. it’s a surface to stay above and andal thought that he was content. in the way that a caged bird is content in having the easy life. 

          “nah. think they jus’ think.... they’re doin’ th’ best they can. w’ what they got,” voice is soft on accented tones as seaglass eyes close slowly. as andal concentrates on the hand at his chest. the one he didn’t know he missed until now. until the longing set deep in his bones and makes him feel heavy even as he lay still in bed surrounded by the exo’s light. it prickles his skin, like pins and needles but it’s something comforting. something honest and entirely shiro. he’s missed him, really. missed the buzzing in his hearing when he’s spent too long concentrating on the arc that surrounds his friend. the way the stars move in the sky above them. the way they used to bicker about their maps and star charts or who landed the last shot on a captain out in the wilds where nothing could touch them but the light and the fallen. it was simpler, then. “they ain’t got guns. or... experience. suppose they jus’ like ta think they’re in control, y’know?”

          he’s always been the understanding type. he thinks that’s why he can win over an argument with a smile. or why people believe him when he insists on shiro’s skillset. or when he gets cayde out of his most recent tiff. isn’t entirely sure if he appreciates it, with where it’s landed him. but then again andal isn’t the type to complain. so he doesn’t. not as he turns over to face shiro. he doesn’t move any closer, leaves their space as the only move he does carry out is to flattens shiro’s palm against his chest again. soft and slow, never constricting. just the two of them. “wish i had a gun, in there - though. sometimes. figure it’d be easier ta get ‘em ta listen if i did, hm?”

[ 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙵𝙾𝚁𝚃 ] 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙼𝚄𝚂𝙴 𝚃𝙾 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚈 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙽𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙰𝙵𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙰 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙳 𝙳𝙰𝚈   /   @afierosii

this is the first time shiro’s been party to a consensus meeting, and five minutes in he can’t help but wonder how andal can stand any of it. how he can get through it with that charming smile on his face. though, sometimes that smile sharpens to a razor’s edge, sharp as shiro’s arc blades. sometimes it disappears entirely. shiro can’t decide which expression should worry the others more. 

the meeting lasts for hours. covers various topics. from city planning, to crop yields, to expeditions into the surrounding wilderness, to zoning restrictions. everything is debated tooth and nail by one party or another. nothing has an easy solution. if shiro had teeth he’s sure he’d have ground them to dust by the time the topic of vanguard operations comes up. it takes another two hours before shiro is asked to deliver his own report on the fallen house of kings ; andal had asked him this favor, and he can see equal parts apology and mischief in his friends’ eyes when he introduces shiro to the consensus and the other vanguard leaders. see what i have to deal with? 

shiro’s report is brief, succinct. the leader of new monarchy has a half dozen questions to ask that shiro answers in a dry tone, trying not to show how rankled he is by the way the man addresses him. like he’s a drone. a mindless soldier. he wonders if it’s because he’s a scout, an exo, or some combination of the two. 

most likely the latter, crux murmurs through their neural link, and shiro’s throat flickers blue with a quiet noise of derision. when the topic turns to final deaths in the field shiro has to stop himself from physically attacking a few of the members for their poorly voiced opinions, the ways in which they dishonor the dead by speaking of them like so many meaningless numbers. the battle of mare imbrium is brought up twice as a barb against the vanguard, heated discussions nearly boiling over into shouts until the speaker calls for order.  

eventually, the meeting comes to an end. except, not truly. because half of the consensus leaders have gathered around the vanguard and are plying them with more questions, needling comments, overly ingratiating compliments. shiro elbows his way past the new monarchy leader without bothering to look at him, using his considerable frame to his advantage. 

“ think we owe each other a drink, ”   shiro says to andal, tossing him a quick wink. andal says his goodbyes quickly and takes the easy out that shiro’s offering. 

they don’t stay out long. it’s autumn, and the nights are coming on early. feels like they’d spent all day in that echoing chamber full of irritated and overwhelming voices. everyone fighting to be heard. almost nobody pausing to really listen. as an exo, there’s no place on his body for physical exhaustion to latch onto. but somehow, after that, he feels more tired than after a month in the field spent tracking down a target to assassinate. so when andal offers a nightcap in his quarters, shiro’s more than a little thankful. 

they talk a little more about anything but that meeting, quickly fall into companionable silence after the fourth drink is poured. shiro takes a moment to look at his friend. to really look. can see the tired lines on his face. the weight of his duties hanging off of his shoulders heavier than any hunter cloak, even one picked up from a fallen comrade. it’s not a single death he carries now. it’s thousands and thousands of lives. 

a part of shiro still wants to hate him for it. for taking the dare in the first place. for losing it. for following through. but he doesn’t think he can hold on to that anymore. not after the tiny slice of andal’s life he’d tasted today. 

by midnight they’re both well and truly drunk, and shiro has no intentions of transmatting to his ship. instead, he makes his way to andal’s bedroom, kicking his boots off, pulling lucky raspberry from his chest only for crux to trasmat the rest of his armor away without a word. he doesn’t look over his shoulder for andal. can feel his quiet footsteps vibrating through the concrete floor as he follows the exo. they get in bed, back to back. andal’s always been good about respecting shiro’s space, knows that nine times out of ten he isn’t fond of touch that he doesn’t initiate himself. knows too that shiro rarely initiates. 

they’re both still awake when shiro rolls over. slips an arm over andal’s side. scoots closer till there’s only a finger’s breadth of space between his chest and andal’s back. 

“ i don’t know how you can deal with it, ”   he murmurs quietly, voice washed lightly with static.   “ the way some o’ them talk about things… feels like they’ve lost sight of the trees tryin’ to picture the whole forest. ”

he doesn’t know if that makes sense. doesn’t know how else to say it either. shiro shuts his eyes and presses the palm of his hand over andal’s chest, just above the thudding of his heart, and tries to remember the hundreds of times they’ve done this before in the wilds, with nothing but the stars over their heads.

#cybled's shiro-4. #andal brask / ic. #i nod sagely #soft

[afierosii]

- Mark Twain

#andal brask / visage. #gif // #i nod sagely #this is also an andal mood #:)

[afierosii]

ROGUE ONE: A STAR WARS STORY (2016)

#andal brask / visage. #andal brask / relevant. #gif // #:) #not saying this exact quote here is a big andal vibe but #its a big andal vibe

[afierosii]

i think it was very neat of me to make tevis ftm trans, honestly

#tevis larsen / revelant. #rereading my old posts abt this shithead and i think #he's very neat

[afierosii]

                        EVERY COIN HAS 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒

                                     YOU’RE RIGHT. EVEN IF THEY’RE BOTH THE 𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐄

                shin malphur written by nev                                   the drifter written by ori

#self promo. #promo. #shin's over here now uwu

[afierosii]

shin getting his own blog? more likely than you’d think!!!!

#ooc. #again #for the third time #but this is fine #its FINE shut up #i lay on the ground next to ori

[afierosii]

* VIOLENT ACTION STARTERS Send me a NUMBER for your muse to : 

001. — Backhand my muse. 002. — Stab my muse.  003. — Put out a cigarette on my muse’s skin. 004. — Hit my muse with a blunt object.  005. — Throw something large at my muse.  006. — Kick my muse. 007. — Punch my muse. 008. — Break one of my muse’s bones. 009. — Scratch my muse. 010. — Headbutt my muse. 011. — Shoot my muse. 012. — Knock my muse out. 013. — Strangle my muse. 014. — Push my muse roughly. 015. — Grab my muse by the hair. 016. — Bruise my muse. 017. — Threathen my muse with an object of harm.  018. — Go to harm my muse’s eyes. 019. — Bite my muse. 020. — Tear away parts of my muse’s skin. 021. — Force my muse’s head under water. 022. — Throw something scalding at my muse. 023. — Burn my muse. 024. — Step on my muse’s fingers. 025. — Rip one of my muse’s teeth out. 026. — Slash my muse’s achilles tendon ( s ). 027. — Clothesline my muse. 028. — Harm my muse enough for them to cough up blood.  029. — Drive into my muse with a vehicle. 030. — Electrocute my muse. 031. — Slam my muse against a wall. 032. — Force my muse’s arm behind their back. 033. — Kick my muse’s crotch. 034. — Trip my muse. 035. — Put my muse in a headlock. 036. — Break my muse’s nose. 037. — Force their fingers down my muse’s throat. 038. — Crack my muse’s head against a wall. 039. — Attempt to kill my muse. 040. — Attempt to kill my muse creatively.

#meme. #coughs

[afierosii]

one day ill actually write out all the stupid lil thoughts and shit i have about shin. maybe when ori and i figure out urls and decide if we’re moving these shitheads to their own blogs JHGDGJHDGHJ

#OOC. #i lay down on the ground #head full only shin

[afierosii]

@paracausaly ; it doesn't matter what he uses, drifter will always play dirty. malphur may be fast but he's still clumsy with the new weapon. rogue doesn't to be fast, only aware. he steps to the side and uses shin's momentum against him to kick feet out from under the renegade. sly smile like a snake curls upon drifter's lips at the sound of the smaller body hitting the floor. sword oh so slightly presses against shin's neck, boot flat on his chest. " gotta be quicker, malphur. "

          he’s used to being the top of his field. the renegade was untouchable, no one dares to take on the predator at the top of the food chain. no one was able or willing to usurp the renegade at the height of his game. why would they? no one challenges an apex predator with everything to loose. but this is different, isn’t it? this is drifter and shin. not the man with no name and the renegade. this is them. 

          it was drifter’s idea to give him a sword. shin knows that much. what he doesn’t know is why he agreed. why shin didn’t just shoot him down and tell him to find a more interesting gun for him to test. rather than a sword that they both know he doesn’t know how to use. but then drifter gave him a look that only shin gets and before he knew it. the renegade was facing the rogue on the opposite side of the improvised training ring they’d made themselves. (amazing what pushing tables and crates to the edge of a room will do for the space, he thinks.) shin thinks that it’s impressive he even got a demonstration to begin with. but the blade feels clumsy and too heavy. feels off in his hands and shin knows instinctively that it’s because he’s not holding a gun. because his finger doesn’t rest against a trigger so much as his hands grip a hilt tight and tense, ready for anything - he hopes. 

         though it doesn’t take long. not before the renegade is frustrated. not before what drifter has told him about the weapon leaves his mind and shin is charging forward. he’s fast enough, light enough on his feet. but the weapon is heavy, he’s figuring out how to level the point with where he wants it. too busy concentrating on the weapon that he doesn’t keep track of his own feet, doesn’t count his steps or plan his line. doesn’t get the chance before back hits the ground and blade is knocked from his hand. doesn’t get the chance before boot hits his chest and knocks the remaining air out of his lungs and ocean hues snap open to feel the tip of a blade against his throat. shin swallows hard. ignores the way heat spikes at the base of his spine and rushes to his head. ignores the fact he doesn’t have his weapon anymore. doesn’t have a gun or a sword. he lets himself sink deeper. lets the adrenaline hit and the split second of panic settle deep in his gut in only the way drifter can. lets himself slow to a stop with a breathless smirk pointed up at the rogue. 

          shin doesn’t think he’s ever felt as human as he does when he looks at drifter. doesn’t think he’s ever understood what drifter says about living. 

          not until now, anyway. not as he holds hands up in faux surrender and lets grin widen. lets his light leech into the tip of metal blade. he watches marred features from where he lay on the ground. he doesn’t even flinch. doesn’t care to move the boot at his chest. not as he lets it spark the heat in his gut. not as he feels adrenaline rush to his head and make the world above him spin out of control. “again--” they have all the time they need. just the two of them. just drifter and shin. “c’mon--again--”

#paracausaly's drifter. #shin malphur / ic. #ANSWERED. #idk how coherent this thing is but #i drop this at ur feet like a dead frog