#dementedanarchy

            “i know you,             i’ve walked with you

#; da vinci's illusionist.#dusk and adrian having deep talks#dusk and adrian doing artistic shit together#dusk fin ally having a friend who's a bit of a break from the chaos of the lost boys#b r o t p s tho

“You should probably put that on a shirt.” Adrian rolled his eyes, thumb carefully brushing the little cut that grazed his lower lip. The statement wasn’t even necessary, as he was already aware of her prowess when it comes to this aspect. 

He’s the foreigner in this craft, and he felt much like fish out of water. Although he’s always admired all these combative measures upon seeing guardians tackle one another down on trainings, or protect him and his kind from the dreadful Strigoi, he’d always just watched from a distance. Years of admiration and being a martial arts fanboy, he never really had the chance to put such daydreams into practice. Back then it wasn’t really necessary.

And to be fair, he never really saw the necessity of it even now, but as the group insists for him to learn (the convincing measures were highly motivational – although sometimes borderline demoralizing) the more he became eager not to be someone else’s burden. Spirit magic can be handy, but once it takes its toll and his power supply is gone, he’s back to absolute zilch. It’s something that he just can’t afford to happen, not when he was taking this opportunity to prove himself. 

Himself. That’s actually a big blank page these days. True, the imagery of the new Adrian before him was quite badass, someone he only imagined in the nightmares that plagued him for years before he finally decided to let go of his inhibitions. Blood on his hands, relentless consumption of the magic he used to just bottle up because of the fear of insanity… Darkness looming over him that he just chose not to control…. It came to a point that when boredom strikes, he just squeezes himself in this bunch of misfits, carrying the aim to just let him join. To let him kill. (Mostly it was hiding the body, but he’s certainly on his way to leveling up these days.)

Admittedly, he can’t recognize himself anymore. Sometimes he wondered if that’s for the better, or for worse. But lately, he couldn’t even care less. The system still works out without anyone of them having solitary sabbatical behind bars – and on top of that, it just felt so good.

Good despite the excruciating pain that almost constantly enveloped his entirety on a daily basis until he was up and kicking again for another ride. Like right now, sparring against a girl who knew possibly more than a hundred ways to kick his ass, yet he was more amused than terrified. 

His lip was throbbing, and even the small smirk he managed to curl was already becoming a struggle. But all he could think of was that a fat purple lip later wouldn’t be a good look, and such a bummer he still hasn’t learned the trick of healing himself.