myoru

— NOLI

Oh, he's a such a tease about it. You might as well as call him a prick with how much he's been making you on edge for the past hour.

Every round with him feels like a game of hide and seek, except you die the moment he finds you and you simply take the hit like a deer caught in headlights.

Not like you can do about it though, you don't have the ability to defend against him like a sentinel or help yourself like a support.

But sometimes, like today, it doesn't seem to be the case.

It's quiet and eerie, no sign of his void star anywhere near and the generators buzzed as normally as it possibly can for a Noli round.

Then, you hear it. Like a snap of a twig, the obnoxious glitching laughter coming from mere meters away.

You bolt it towards the other direction, but unfortunately said direction was where a lone generator sat and you end up running right into your worst nightmare (yet a hot nightmare, if you catch I'm throwing haha—).

Any moment you try to find a gap between the killer (who smells like a burnt tire by the way and it's irritating your nose) and freedom, he blocks your line of sight with his body and trips you up whenever you tried running away.

Your abilities failed getting you away from him, not when he could just teleport to wherever you are on the map.

It doesn't take long until he catches up on you. Or at least you think so. You can't tell what is real anymore with two Nolis in front of you.

He corners you into the edge of the map, hands on your body. Teasing the tantalising skin peeking underneath your shirt.

"So soft, so pathetic. You're one treat, aren't cha?"

You feel another pair of hands wrap around your waist, another version of him settles behind you with the same, mirrored grin that screams egoistical smugness befitting him.

Every single chase, every single run, it always ends up with you trapped in his arms. Like a crab caught in a trapper. Sometimes you live til the end, sometimes you die.

This time around, the latter happens.

Before your vision blacks out from the pain of your body ripping into shreds, he kisses your knuckles and winks (as best as he can manage with his half-burnt face).

"Entertain me sometime again, will you?"

— 1x4

There's few things 1x4 doesn't hate in this world, and that's you and a good chase.

They find the scent of your fear absolutely delicious, how they want to crush that brave mask of yours and strip you of all that faux courage. Like peeling the roasted skin off a chicken. A feast fit for a king, after all.

So she takes her time, letting you get your few in-between hits while she, overpoweringly so, makes your resolve crumble til you bend down on one knee. Like a knight bowing down for their monarch.

Seeing that glint in your eye, even when the blood seeps from the cut above your brow. Determined, persevering, it makes him want to stomp on that fire until it's nothing but ash and charcoal.

"Giving up so soon? And here I thought you were a sentinel."

They mock you, kick you down further, have you pressed underneath their boot. You might as well began licking it like the good, filthy dog you are. Their pathetic, sad yet well trained dog.

But instead of getting pissed off by it, your imaginary tail begins to wag, soaking up each insult like it was the sweetest music you ever heard.

Each hit to your stomach has you groaning, every harsh hug at your hair almost made your eyes roll back in ecstasy. You can feel the poison on your tongue in her kisses, blood trickling down your busted lip. Without fail, she licks the crimson up and sends more of her sweet, brain-numbing poison into your bloodstream.

You die everytime, not that you mind though. At least they'll be there to watch as the lights leave your eyes.