WHITE NOISE

o ye of so little faith; don’t doubt it, don’t doubt it

he hasn’t been in the wilds this long. there’s just no way. but with every kill he felt the void lap at his mind, lap at the very essence of his soul, felt the bow get stronger and stronger and suddenly his anger had dissipated. he was rezzed angry, and from whatever his journals had talked about, he was angry for good reason in his past life. it seems it carried over. it seems the void was feeding off of it. but he was built for war. he was built to fight, and he had been revived to fight with greater force than ever imagined. so there he sat, crouched behind an icy boulder, feeling the howling winds of the mountains call out to him, distract him —— but he remained steadfast. he watched. he waited. he saw. and in a second did powerful legs kick himself off from the ground, land with ease from the height he crossed, striking and fearsome blue eyes meeting with fallen.

victory is in your veins, you know it, you know it

and like lightning did all hell break loose —— ! he dashed forward, unsheathing his sharpened blade before swiping it across the chest of a dreg ; turning around did elbow come crashing into another’s face, white placing shifting dangerously low in a glare that only made his eyes glow colder. he was quickly surrounded by hellish soldiers, and he felt a knife crackle in electricity behind him so —— he jumped up, once, twice ; called upon the heavens and the cold, luminous purple bow dripping with vapor materialized in gloved hands. quickly did he draw, shoot, and land —— breathing out vapor itself as he settled his power for later, drew out another weapon ; knife and sidearm he happened to pick up on his way here, he dashed in and made quick work of a couple more dregs.

and you will not negotiate

knife pierced the flesh of what seemed like tens more fallen soldiers, and he reveled in it ; eyes glowed more and more with bloodlust. the darkness lapped up at his feet, and he used it —— with every dreg and vandal that fell behind him; he left a trail of death in his wake of cold and unforgiving, brutal fury. when the last body fell and he yanked out knife from the chest of a marauder, the one that tried to kill him ; only then would lips part underneath thick white cloth —— and he chuckled. low, rumbled in his chest ; and he has never felt so alive.

JUST FIGHT IT, JUST FIGHT IT AND BE TRANSFORMED

he heard the far out cries of reinforcements —— bearing his knife did he take a look at the unused sidearm, contempt and disdain decorating hard planes. and he tossed it, right over the edge of the cliff of the mountain. sundance materialized by his shoulder, and they exchanged a glance, but she nodded, and he looked forward again, saw the ships beginning to draw near.

prompted.     /     @lureace.