#decimcted

He was not going to give Samael the satisfaction in his bullshit, he really wasn’t. He knew better than to add gasoline to the flame that was already licking at their feet, figuratively, but he was never entirely sure the literal sense wouldn’t follow like a lamb to slaughter. A finally turned around, a single pivot, broad shoulders flexing as he spoke with the accent, the one that seemed more ancient than specific, an offset of his age, naturally. “Are you fucking serious?” He asked finally, rhetorical question, trying to keep himself from laughing, bitterly, and mostly because it was utterly ridiculous - something he’d come to expect in this instance. “Two people are dead because you wanted a copy of the 1999 Tiger-fucking-beat, my guy?” 

This explained why, after enough time and enough breaking, and reforming of bones, he’d returned. Door opened without permission, but shoulder stayed planted with a surprisingly easy air, right in the doorway. “Surprise.”

Royalty was never all it was cracked up to be, and especially not in these conditions. That only meant that the unforgiving nature that most had painted them with was just another tool to paint don’t fuck with me on the walls with. This explained why the knife had been in play since the moment that they had entered the chambers. No need for pause, or overdramatics, but damn if they didn’t enjoy the way this proved an unspoken point. A breath is taken, and a sigh follows, almost like it’s boring them, before stepping up, one single, quick motion as arm slips up them, blade directed at just the right spot and held there, biting into the skin like the threat it was. “I think there might be something you’ve forgotten to share.”

@decimcted​