#bokudou

hmmmmm..

Time was lost to the routine of her imprisonment. A seemingly endless blur of fighting and sleeping. Another “day” which had simply meant another fight to win, nothing more than entertainment for the masses of the underground. The guards rouse her awake and magic had goads her transformation into that of a wolfish beast. The number of scars upon her form spoke volumes of just how many fights she had endured and won.

The transformation had always left her ravenous, wildly thrashing in desperation to break free of her bonds. Glowing runic chains that hung around her neck and claws serve their purpose in holding her steady. It had been the only thing that stood between her and freedom.

And whenever that day came, Velvet would tear them all apart.

The massive iron door swings upwards and she leaps wildly into the arena. Met with blinding sunlight and the crowd's cheering at her entrance, the disorientation causes her to look about before setting her eyes on her challengers. She’d seen a variety of gladiators, knights and even nobles had come at a chance to slay the beast in promise of coin.

She was upon them the moment someone took a step forward. The first fighter in question is rendered helpless between her claws. A quick snap of her jaws ends them quickly. Even while enduring cuts and bruises, her brutish force was overbearing and the other fighters fell to fang and claw.

The callous scream of each shot ripped through the air like dagger on paper, bullets permanently destroying any peace of mind that the Shimada once had. Every action seemed to be more instinctual than the last -

keep your movements jagged. take cover beneath concrete structures. do not look behind you. stay alive.

run.

With the impossible dexterity of a mountain goat, Hanzo found himself climbing up the glossiest of surfaces with ease, the marble under his rough fingertips acting as nothing more than an inconvenience. The next shell came dangerously close to contact, neatly grazing his grayed sideburn and flying onward into a store front. As the glass scattered below his feet, Hanzo clamped his eyes shut and inhaled sharply, unsure of how badly grated the ground beneath him had become.

Seamlessly, Hanzo found himself within another world - dark, empty, and surprisingly soft. He didn’t feel the cold power of his gasp for air; like emerging from a rip tide, all he cared about at all levels of consciousness was the dire need for air.

Eyes adjusting to the dark, the archer calmed himself quickly.He was back at the base, laying in one of the white cots that decorated each and every infirmary room in the medical wing.

There had been a sniper.

Shakily, he raised a hand to his forehead, and felt the pillowed texture of gauze. He did not know if he were badly injured, or where. But a quick wiggle of each ligament assured him that his body was mostly intact.

@bokudou @luzrovsoulrulay

❝ Huh? Oh! ❞

        A light laugh escapes his chest, cheeks flushing slightly more than they usually do with 8S around. It kicks up his heart rate, he notes, and it’s happened enough times by now for him to gauge exactly why. Rubbing a thumb against a hand with attempts to make it a little less obvious that he’s embarrassed, something else to focus on in his head while he looks up at him. He’s already going against regulations; isn’t it worth it for moments like this?

        He’s thankful for the opportunity to touch him.