http://p-laystation.livejournal.com/ ([identity profile] p-laystation.livejournal.com) wrote in [community profile] paixaorpg 2007-03-16 01:16 pm (UTC)

It wasn't that he'd grown up in a nutshell, protected from harm. Hell, he'd had his fair share of street fights in the back alleys, and even holding his own in a few of them. Physical pain really wasn't too hard to endure. But this, well...this was different.

When the other stood up, he'd automatically thrown himself out of his chair out of instinct, sensing something was going horribly wrong; the next moment, the burst of light assaulted his eyes, and his vision went a pure, blissful black, along with a jagged pain that went shooting through his temples. The sounds of high-pitched screaming and the crash of furniture surrounded him as he cast about blindly, trying not to panic. Fuck.

His overly sensitive eyes were still in mid-recovery when he felt the chains wrap around his body. Though he struggled against them, there was just so much he could do, and a large majority of the air in his lungs escaped in a harsh gasp, the chains pressing tightly against his chest. "D...dammit..."

His pace quickening out of fear, he kicked madly as he felt himself being levitated. A small portion of his vision was beginning to return, though this wasn't necessarily an improvement; as far as sight went, he barely caught a blurred glimpse of the Bio-Exorcist's manic expression before being thrown forward. A small, strangled cry escaped his throat when the blunt force hit his head, and he shuddered. The pain was tremendous.

Betelguese's words rang in his ears as he shook his head, trying to gather his scattered thoughts amid the terror that threatened to take over his mind. Mello, the things I will go through for you... His blurry vision was now accompanied by a searing pain in his eyes, and he could feel a dull throb in his head, but he still managed the slightest hints of a grim smile. Fuck this shit. He'd faced off against three dozen armed bodyguards before, a fucking poltergeist couldn't be any worse.

The coppery taste of blood from where he'd bitten his tongue stuck to the back of his throat as he spoke, somehow keepinng his voice from shaking. "...and what use would I be to you dead? If you're aiming for souls, mine isn't exactly the purest one you'd want."

Post a comment in response:

This account has disabled anonymous posting.
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
HTML doesn't work in the subject.
More info about formatting