#nightmerit

TARGET   :   SPARDA   ,   VERGIL LOCATION   :   @nightmerit​​​​​​​​​ ASSIGNMENT   :   it’s sunday ! ENCRYPTED   :     ❛ i want this. ❜

        her heart flutters at the sound of his voice   ,   the touch of her lips a mere ghost against his. it’s not often jezebel finds her cheeks dusting with pink or feels that tell - tale hitch of breath. those words were all she needed to hear to inspire a self - satisfied grin   ,   the kind that only upturns at the corner of her candy - pink mouth. intimacy   ,   especially with him   ,   is so new. when her eyes settle on his   ,   it’s like seeing him in new colors.

"Maybe." Sora had witnessed too many worlds swallowed by the darkness. He wouldn't let it happen again. Not here. Not while he still stood. "But I've learned, just because something is destined to start, doesn't mean it's destined to succeed."

As hordes of Heartless poured over the walls, Sora summoned his Keyblade and raised it against the tide of darkness. "You with me, Nero?"

"Ow."

So a bit of new information learned, here, by Sora. Falling down a canyon after slaying a skyscraper sized demon? That hurts. And of all the times not to be able to fly!

"Still here. Barely." A bit bruised and scuffed, but more or less okay. Sora stumbled over to Vergil, summoning up a magical flower. As it burst, pouring magical vitality into them, he sighed, "Curaga. That should fix us up."

     pity? is that what his expressions reads from beneath gray skies, through the fine gray mist that rises from warm cement? NIL gave himself a face, aimed for it to be human despite its nodes and lights and panels, but emotion is different. starkly complicated, rarely understood. what geometric patterns has his face fallen into that say sorrow? regret, even? perhaps it is the downward tilt to his brows, or the steady line his mouth settles into without thought. somewhere, somehow, he is showing regret, feeling resonating with the distant rumble of thunder. he focuses on that, does not look at the hard line of the man’s back, at the blanched white skin stretched over clenched fists.

The novelty of watching Vergil as he dispatches waves of demons with ease never seems to wear off, and Bayor is so mesmerized he nearly misses the ones that chose him as their target instead. Thankfully, he manages to dodge the initial attack in time and swiftly counters with a flaming fist that sends the poor recipient careening into a few others and they all topple over. At the sight, Bayor lets out a short laugh and pumps his fist perhaps too excited.

“Stee-riiiiike!”