[ Fear and confusion mean nothing to him. He isn't getting anything out of this; he just needs to do it, needs to keep doing it until everything is dead, but the concept of anything but the present is lost on him. There is no real plan here. There's nothing but every life that so much as crosses his path, and he almost has this one—
Gen's mace hits him, catching him where shoulder and chest meet, the impact both forcing his arm back and away from Misa and drawing blood. He yells, not in pain but in fury — just one more thing that's been inflicted on him, on his body, and fuck if he can remember what anything else was just that it was seemingly every waking moment — that yell disrupted as he tumbles into a trench that wasn't there before.
That he probably wouldn't have noticed, anyway.
He looks up, teeth snapping as he's addressed, but it all means nothing. He's already scrambling to try to get up, try to maul Gen when his legs start to be frozen in place, halting his progress.
The pain that he should be feeling isn't there. Neither is the cold. His gaze jerks from Gen to Kaeya, narrowed eyes and low growl that shifts into something of a sharp bark his only answer for them. He doesn't register the trickle of blood down his chest from where the mace struck him; doesn't look down at what's impeding him, just continuing to scramble towards the wall of the trench, powerful legs willing themselves to move forward — and then the ice cracks, and breaks, shattering off of him as he lunges forward, turning what should have been a headfirst charge into the trench's wall into a boost as he uses his claws to pull himself up, get himself on level ground with now not one, but three people he needs to kill, immediately.
He wastes no time — he has energy reserves to spare as he bursts forward, a claw outstretched for both Gen and Kaeya each, lunging at their centres of mass.
There's no forward planning here. He just needs to grab them first, dig into them, hook his claws into their flesh tear it open make sure they can't get away, and whatever he does after is whatever he does after. ]
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Gen's mace hits him, catching him where shoulder and chest meet, the impact both forcing his arm back and away from Misa and drawing blood. He yells, not in pain but in fury — just one more thing that's been inflicted on him, on his body, and fuck if he can remember what anything else was just that it was seemingly every waking moment — that yell disrupted as he tumbles into a trench that wasn't there before.
That he probably wouldn't have noticed, anyway.
He looks up, teeth snapping as he's addressed, but it all means nothing. He's already scrambling to try to get up, try to maul Gen when his legs start to be frozen in place, halting his progress.
The pain that he should be feeling isn't there. Neither is the cold. His gaze jerks from Gen to Kaeya, narrowed eyes and low growl that shifts into something of a sharp bark his only answer for them. He doesn't register the trickle of blood down his chest from where the mace struck him; doesn't look down at what's impeding him, just continuing to scramble towards the wall of the trench, powerful legs willing themselves to move forward — and then the ice cracks, and breaks, shattering off of him as he lunges forward, turning what should have been a headfirst charge into the trench's wall into a boost as he uses his claws to pull himself up, get himself on level ground with now not one, but three people he needs to kill, immediately.
He wastes no time — he has energy reserves to spare as he bursts forward, a claw outstretched for both Gen and Kaeya each, lunging at their centres of mass.
There's no forward planning here. He just needs to grab them first, dig into them, hook his claws into their flesh tear it open make sure they can't get away, and whatever he does after is whatever he does after. ]