[ Gen hisses those low words between ragged breaths, but only out of disbelief. Not refusal. He's always been the type to know what has to be done, after all, and he knows they don't have many other options at the moment.
It's just that 'keeping Amos distracted' is definitely way easier said than done.
And it certainly doesn't help that the steady seep of emotions coloring the air makes it feels like there's acid slowly filling his lungs. His own anxiety buzzes through his nerves like electric pulses, further bolstered by the sting of Misa's determination and the ice-cold prickle of Kaeya's tension. Then there's the rage. Sheer, unadulterated, overwhelming bloodlust burning so hot it threatens to sear a hole through his chest. It's not even that he's a stranger to that level of anger -- it's that he's only ever felt his own rage in such vivid details. Not somebody else's. Not a trusted ally's. Not Amos'.
'Keep him distracted,' Kaeya had said, and it truly feels like a monumental task at the moment.
Still, he hears the scrape of Misa's shoes off the pavement as she dashes away from him, and Gen grits his teeth as he splits away from Kaeya -- skidding to a halt so abruptly his knee almost buckles when he realizes Amos has decided to gun for Kaeya, and not him. ]
-- goddammit!
[ It would be easy to simply swing his mace at Amos' exposed back. Crush his spine. (Cripple him. Potentially kill him.) But that's not something he can just do -- isn't an option he can even consider -- and Gen hisses from the strain of using his magic in such rapid succession as he instead gives a sharp swipe of the arm while still several paces away. The earth between Kaeya and Amos crackles as it erupts, a paving stone ripping from the ground to rocket upwards and straight into Amos' gut, right below his ribcage.
It's a blow hard enough to crack a rib or two. Brutal enough that most people would be immediately doubled over, winded and gasping for air. But even before that slab of rock's made contact with Amos' frame, Gen can feel dread coiling cold in the pit of his stomach because he knows, he knows that's only going to delay him for a split second, if that. ]
no subject
[ Gen hisses those low words between ragged breaths, but only out of disbelief. Not refusal. He's always been the type to know what has to be done, after all, and he knows they don't have many other options at the moment.
It's just that 'keeping Amos distracted' is definitely way easier said than done.
And it certainly doesn't help that the steady seep of emotions coloring the air makes it feels like there's acid slowly filling his lungs. His own anxiety buzzes through his nerves like electric pulses, further bolstered by the sting of Misa's determination and the ice-cold prickle of Kaeya's tension. Then there's the rage. Sheer, unadulterated, overwhelming bloodlust burning so hot it threatens to sear a hole through his chest. It's not even that he's a stranger to that level of anger -- it's that he's only ever felt his own rage in such vivid details. Not somebody else's. Not a trusted ally's. Not Amos'.
'Keep him distracted,' Kaeya had said, and it truly feels like a monumental task at the moment.
Still, he hears the scrape of Misa's shoes off the pavement as she dashes away from him, and Gen grits his teeth as he splits away from Kaeya -- skidding to a halt so abruptly his knee almost buckles when he realizes Amos has decided to gun for Kaeya, and not him. ]
-- goddammit!
[ It would be easy to simply swing his mace at Amos' exposed back. Crush his spine. (Cripple him. Potentially kill him.) But that's not something he can just do -- isn't an option he can even consider -- and Gen hisses from the strain of using his magic in such rapid succession as he instead gives a sharp swipe of the arm while still several paces away. The earth between Kaeya and Amos crackles as it erupts, a paving stone ripping from the ground to rocket upwards and straight into Amos' gut, right below his ribcage.
It's a blow hard enough to crack a rib or two. Brutal enough that most people would be immediately doubled over, winded and gasping for air. But even before that slab of rock's made contact with Amos' frame, Gen can feel dread coiling cold in the pit of his stomach because he knows, he knows that's only going to delay him for a split second, if that. ]