They'd found flesh, momentarily, but that isn't good enough; he needs to be able to dig in, hook something living onto his hands, scoop it all out. But one is pulled away far too soon and the other leaves his followthrough hitting nothing more than air, and it's frustrating — an emotion easily converted to an uptick in anger.
He glares at his targets, now further back, as he tries to resume his advancement. He doesn't notice the way his leg is slowly turning heavier, stiffer, less flexible; anything that happens to him is irrelevant. He sifts through spilled ground first with difficulty, then ease as his stance adapts and grows firmer, only to be cut off by ice.
Except he can still see, knows his targets are on the other side of it, so without missing much of a beat he slams his fists into the pillar in front of him. The ice cracks, and he does it again, this time with an accompanying yell and headbutt. It shatters, leaving him with sharp shards of ice to force his feet through on top of the uneven ground, but he doesn't notice how he's slowed down. He's making his way through it, fangs inadvertently on display with the effort he doesn't know he's exerting, advancing on the three of them as they talk, attempt to strategize what to do with him; people he should love would have loved in any other lifetime has no room for love maybe never has.
(It's all been buried under something, but accessible; it's just now the something is an unending torrent of rage and this is why it's better to feel nothing than to feel all of that.)
He wants them dead; they need to die; and when he's free of the debris he picks up as much speed as he can — never mind the petrified foot, the way it throws him off-balance, it's irrelevant to him so long as he can sink his claws into any all of them — aiming to grab at
Kaeya, he decides in a last second moment; he's bleeding the most, and if it's all the same to them then he's the one he's most drawn to, nostrils flaring at the scent of blood and claws extended, ready to restrain him so he can maybe tear his throat out with his teeth. ]
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They'd found flesh, momentarily, but that isn't good enough; he needs to be able to dig in, hook something living onto his hands, scoop it all out. But one is pulled away far too soon and the other leaves his followthrough hitting nothing more than air, and it's frustrating — an emotion easily converted to an uptick in anger.
He glares at his targets, now further back, as he tries to resume his advancement. He doesn't notice the way his leg is slowly turning heavier, stiffer, less flexible; anything that happens to him is irrelevant. He sifts through spilled ground first with difficulty, then ease as his stance adapts and grows firmer, only to be cut off by ice.
Except he can still see, knows his targets are on the other side of it, so without missing much of a beat he slams his fists into the pillar in front of him. The ice cracks, and he does it again, this time with an accompanying yell and headbutt. It shatters, leaving him with sharp shards of ice to force his feet through on top of the uneven ground, but he doesn't notice how he's slowed down. He's making his way through it, fangs inadvertently on display with the effort he doesn't know he's exerting, advancing on the three of them as they talk, attempt to strategize what to do with him; people he should love would have loved in any other lifetime has no room for love maybe never has.
(It's all been buried under something, but accessible; it's just now the something is an unending torrent of rage and this is why it's better to feel nothing than to feel all of that.)
He wants them dead; they need to die; and when he's free of the debris he picks up as much speed as he can — never mind the petrified foot, the way it throws him off-balance, it's irrelevant to him so long as he can sink his claws into any all of them — aiming to grab at
Kaeya, he decides in a last second moment; he's bleeding the most, and if it's all the same to them then he's the one he's most drawn to, nostrils flaring at the scent of blood and claws extended, ready to restrain him so he can maybe tear his throat out with his teeth. ]