He ignores it, beyond recognition of what's happening to him, beyond pain. He drives bloodied, blunted fingers down towards Misa anyway, but just like with Gen, it's a brute force, blunted impact that misses his original target, hitting her ribcage rather than clawing her heart out. He doesn't have time for confusion, doesn't have time to understand why that didn't work; has already forgotten about it and is lunging down with his fangs, because he is going to kill her—
The surge of anger when that mace smashes into his jaw is more vicious, more violent, more monstrous than it has been ever since he embraced Silco's touch to try to tear the Sanctifier apart limb by limb. Even as his entire being jostles from the impact, for a second there's a blip as the anger goes out entirely, him blacking out due to the sheer intensity of it. And then it's back online, roaring through his ears, thrumming through his blood, even as he loses part of his face, some teeth shattered, some completely gone — but not all of them.
He still has something to do here, his brain careening into a mindless overdrive. There is still something living underneath him and for that he moves forwards, remaining lips peeling back, exposing more of the fangs he still has at his disposal, mindless of the blood pouring from the remnants of his mouth; he will kill he will rip this life away with every last thing he's got because it's owed to him because it's all he's good for because everything needs to die—
His head jerks back, to the side, at the second blow, at the third, as it keeps going. Rage continues to thrum as skull fragments go flying, brain matter exposed and then buried in remaining hair, as his body falls away from Misa, to her side. His eye — eye, one's been lost through this assault, significant chunk of his head just gone — is still on her, but it's debatable how much it even sees at this point; a part of his jaw works itself, fingers twitch, an arm attempts to lift itself to grab her or punch her or do something, it doesn't know what, and then it stops.
His body has reached its limit. It stops. Even as the blows continue, it stops.
Amos exhales, a wet and dying sound, remaining eye slipping shut as he feels everything going away. Fade to nothingness, fade to something like home. Even as his head gets caved in — this is fine. Better than fine. There are things worse than death, and now, as he dies, he's no longer one of them.
The suffocating anger is gone even before his body begins to dissipate, gradually reduced to nothing, leaving behind a slightly darkened crystal — blue sheen to it in the right light, a small soul for a stunted person — and it's okay. ]
cw gore, death
He ignores it, beyond recognition of what's happening to him, beyond pain. He drives bloodied, blunted fingers down towards Misa anyway, but just like with Gen, it's a brute force, blunted impact that misses his original target, hitting her ribcage rather than clawing her heart out. He doesn't have time for confusion, doesn't have time to understand why that didn't work; has already forgotten about it and is lunging down with his fangs, because he is going to kill her—
The surge of anger when that mace smashes into his jaw is more vicious, more violent, more monstrous than it has been ever since he embraced Silco's touch to try to tear the Sanctifier apart limb by limb. Even as his entire being jostles from the impact, for a second there's a blip as the anger goes out entirely, him blacking out due to the sheer intensity of it. And then it's back online, roaring through his ears, thrumming through his blood, even as he loses part of his face, some teeth shattered, some completely gone — but not all of them.
He still has something to do here, his brain careening into a mindless overdrive. There is still something living underneath him and for that he moves forwards, remaining lips peeling back, exposing more of the fangs he still has at his disposal, mindless of the blood pouring from the remnants of his mouth; he will kill he will rip this life away with every last thing he's got because it's owed to him because it's all he's good for because everything needs to die—
His head jerks back, to the side, at the second blow, at the third, as it keeps going. Rage continues to thrum as skull fragments go flying, brain matter exposed and then buried in remaining hair, as his body falls away from Misa, to her side. His eye — eye, one's been lost through this assault, significant chunk of his head just gone — is still on her, but it's debatable how much it even sees at this point; a part of his jaw works itself, fingers twitch, an arm attempts to lift itself to grab her or punch her or do something, it doesn't know what, and then it stops.
His body has reached its limit. It stops. Even as the blows continue, it stops.
Amos exhales, a wet and dying sound, remaining eye slipping shut as he feels everything going away. Fade to nothingness, fade to something like home. Even as his head gets caved in — this is fine. Better than fine. There are things worse than death, and now, as he dies, he's no longer one of them.
The suffocating anger is gone even before his body begins to dissipate, gradually reduced to nothing, leaving behind a slightly darkened crystal — blue sheen to it in the right light, a small soul for a stunted person — and it's okay. ]