[ A searing, unbearable pain wracks Howl's contorted body as the tip of the blade pierces through the ambiguous flesh of the wizard's torso. The noise that comes from the monster is entirely inhuman: a wailing, growling screech of pain that pierces the relative silence of the alleyway, reverberating from somewhere in the back of Howl's extended neck, a mix of a cough and a scream.
The sword does not even pierce his body that deeply... but this agony doesn't come from the cutting of flesh. It's the Kenoma itself being pressed against, and although it weathers Dextera's attack easily, the pulse of purification runs along the chains it's wrapped around Howl's soul and reverberates. He can feel it, even as the Kenoma protects him from it, and it's horrible.
This is precisely the kind of unexpected move that Howl had been so cautious about avoiding. Seems he's failed, he manages to think to himself for a split second, but he knows he hasn't lost yet. As his body reflexively hauls itself away from Dextera, his talons flex, grabbing him around his belly and arm and threatening to plunge his claws into his body like a dozen knives. And yet, he doesn't — conspicuously so — instead, simply carrying him along as Howl gnashes his wings and flails within the pain.
Why?
He should end it now. Tear his guts open, drag his intestines out into the dirt like strings of garland. But — no. No, he can't — he mustn't. This is wrong. This is wrong, isn't it? — but, why is it wrong? They're going to destroy this world, so why? ]
no subject
The sword does not even pierce his body that deeply... but this agony doesn't come from the cutting of flesh. It's the Kenoma itself being pressed against, and although it weathers Dextera's attack easily, the pulse of purification runs along the chains it's wrapped around Howl's soul and reverberates. He can feel it, even as the Kenoma protects him from it, and it's horrible.
This is precisely the kind of unexpected move that Howl had been so cautious about avoiding. Seems he's failed, he manages to think to himself for a split second, but he knows he hasn't lost yet. As his body reflexively hauls itself away from Dextera, his talons flex, grabbing him around his belly and arm and threatening to plunge his claws into his body like a dozen knives. And yet, he doesn't — conspicuously so — instead, simply carrying him along as Howl gnashes his wings and flails within the pain.
Why?
He should end it now. Tear his guts open, drag his intestines out into the dirt like strings of garland. But — no. No, he can't — he mustn't. This is wrong. This is wrong, isn't it? — but, why is it wrong? They're going to destroy this world, so why? ]