[there's an edge of that anger to it, that rage, snapping back as their scenery blends together. ice creeps into even his side of the battlefield, rime coating some of the figures there... but smoke bleeds over into hers.
the next time he strikes-- what was it temenos had asked? what would have happened, if gregor's arm had been sharp?
it's not necessarily about it being sharp. his arm twists and shifts as it strikes at her, its mass aggregated closer to the tip of the arm almost like a wrecking ball as it swings at her.
if his arm worked the way it was made to, owner might not have had a chest left by the time gregor was done with him.]
no subject
[there's an edge of that anger to it, that rage, snapping back as their scenery blends together. ice creeps into even his side of the battlefield, rime coating some of the figures there... but smoke bleeds over into hers.
the next time he strikes-- what was it temenos had asked? what would have happened, if gregor's arm had been sharp?
it's not necessarily about it being sharp. his arm twists and shifts as it strikes at her, its mass aggregated closer to the tip of the arm almost like a wrecking ball as it swings at her.
if his arm worked the way it was made to, owner might not have had a chest left by the time gregor was done with him.]