[ At that, the quiet doubts he'd been harboring flare up hot and sharp in his gut. Barnaby steps closer, and Gen's stance lowers defensively as he stands his ground, expression hardening and eyes narrowing to a vicious glare. Dirt grits underfoot as he lowers his center of balance; his prisoner gives a pitiful yelp when Gen reflexively jerks the man around to hold him prisoner at his side instead of before him, where Barnaby can grab at him too easily.
As faint as a whisper, the ground beneath his feet tremors, barely enough to rattle a few specks of shattered ceramic. He's never been the type to contain his anger well; he prepares to fight Barnaby, and that vitriol seeps out of him like water through a cracked jug, tainting the very air around him as his magic gears up for release. ]
... you always threaten your "allies" like that, Mr. Hero?
[ Derision drips from that simple two-syllable word. 'Hero.' As if such a thing exists. ]
no subject
As faint as a whisper, the ground beneath his feet tremors, barely enough to rattle a few specks of shattered ceramic. He's never been the type to contain his anger well; he prepares to fight Barnaby, and that vitriol seeps out of him like water through a cracked jug, tainting the very air around him as his magic gears up for release. ]
... you always threaten your "allies" like that, Mr. Hero?
[ Derision drips from that simple two-syllable word. 'Hero.' As if such a thing exists. ]
And don't talk like you know anything about me.