[ the liquid seeps into his stream. age old memories accompany it, vicious insults, knives grazing against his skin, eyes filled to the brim with rage on the face of a beloved friend. it paralyzes him for a split second — until an array of colors is in sight. they belong to that man, he's certain of it.
so he does all he can — he lunges, teeth bared, fists beating harshly against newt's torso. he thrashes, kicking, punching, in a flurry of wrath. jacopo reaches for his arm — and grips him, hands akin to an iron vise.
everything is red. he phases in out of reality, and to the past, and then back into reality —
and the reality is that he's lost.
so he slows. and now is when the advantage is theirs. the ring gleams, a testament to what he once was. what he stole, and what he became.
no subject
so he does all he can — he lunges, teeth bared, fists beating harshly against newt's torso. he thrashes, kicking, punching, in a flurry of wrath. jacopo reaches for his arm — and grips him, hands akin to an iron vise.
everything is red. he phases in out of reality, and to the past, and then back into reality —
and the reality is that he's lost.
so he slows. and now is when the advantage is theirs. the ring gleams, a testament to what he once was. what he stole, and what he became.
how pitiful, he thinks. ]