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GET. READY TOKU AND POKEMON TUMBLR
i spent too long on these and they're tracings of official pokemon artwork i am not sorry
ahu ahu ahu i still need to finish Sagadreigon and Dogga Hammer and paradox kivakyu (Cruelty Fangs) + ledixa (Justice Bullet) a nd shudoran TwT
A ND MEGA KIVAKYU WHICH REFERENCES EMPEROR FOR M..
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β when did you last sleep? β prosciutto to risotto
there are at least two cups of coffee that had been hastily made in the night -- one is half finished, the drink itself long gone cold and inedible -- and currently, there is a shrinking cigarette pinched between his fingers. he's lost track of time but he's almost certain that he'd been awake for the majority of the night ; he'd tiptoed away to his work desk and tried to find things to do to pass the time. once that inevitably ran out, he'd retreated to the nearest balcony to gaze at the empty sky. nightmares, is his reason for making such a drastic decision. it feels childish to admit aloud, so he never does. but he's certain the others suspect it.
( he dreams of bloodied scalpels & maddening laughter echoing down a hallway that stretches forever, making it impossible to reach. he dreams of always being too late. he dreams of losing the others like it's an inevitability, like the shadow of death breathes down his neck and mocks him. you will lose them, it says like a promise. you will always end up alone. )
he does not mean to worry prosciutto. none of them are meant to be fretted over & least of all, him. this is not the first time risotto has pulled this kind of stunt, nor is it the first time he's been caught. but prosciutto's tone gives the impression of disapproval, as though he intends to chide him for being reckless to himself.
βΒ i slept enough through the night. β he answers whilst dousing the cigarette against the ash tray he'd brought out. he keeps his back to the other. prosciutto is second - in - command in title but he is a force near equivalent to risotto's own as leader. he lacks the energy to hold his ground, nor does he want a fight so this is all he can do. the dark bags beneath his eyes almost compliment his unsettling appearance anyway, who is to say they haven't always been there? βΒ don't worry about me. i'm alright. what about you? what about the others? β
there are very few things in this world which faze a man like risotto nero these days. ghiaccio's utterly unhinged driving at its worst is easily one of those things, though he does not dare voice the complaint. his body is rigid & tense like a statute, daring to not move a muscle nor change his expression. his hands grip against the leather seat to keep still. ( he prays to no god, but he does pray that his seatbelt and the brake work effectively through it all. ) but after blowing through the third stop sign, something needs to be addressed at some point in all this. βΒ ghiaccio. β he intones, heavy but cautious. β be careful. β
β ΛΛβ· @zanvat / ghiaccio.
he looks utterly wretched, like a demon emerging straight from the confines of hell. drenched in blood, it even paints the surface of his face & stains his silver hair. his hands clench and unclench, the still - stinging sensation from split skin knuckles that went as far as to beat someone's face in when metallica's abilities were simply not grueling enough. all in all, he is a nightmarish vision, and the scene he left is a barbaric one at that. and yet, his face softens at the sight of the other -- it's subtle, the change barely noticeable in his harsh gaze -- and he has the gall to ask; βΒ are you alright? are you hurt? β
β ΛΛβ· @zanvat / melone.
the morning hour is grey & bleak, the sun's presence blanketed by a mass of clouds from where they are residing. risotto has been up for several hours prior to this, finding the scene to be quite fitting in lieu of the news he has received from their stretched thin intel. metallica senses the heartbeat of another presence joining the room, risotto knows from the footfalls that it is his second - in - command. he turns to face him, expression stony and difficult to read. in a flat voice, he announces simply without so much as a good morning to precede, βΒ my father is dead. β
( it is, perhaps, the first time he has confirmed the well traveled rumor that has followed him for years. one which no one on the team dared to ask for the truth, only quietly speculating amongst one another the answer. )
β ΛΛβ· @zanvat / prosciutto.
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