[ For lack of a better idea, Ephemera resumes his regular patterns. He doesn't know what he's doing with himself, really. The aftermath hangs on him in a way he wasn't ready for and he feels brittle, his control fraying.
He killed someone for no reason other than the temporary satisfaction of the fight. He put a knife through the man's throat and it felt--
He doesn't know how it felt. He died before the feeling could register. And now he's back.
This keeps on happening, doesn't it? Over and over again.
So he falls back to his old patterns. It's either that or camping out at the fight club, and the announcers have told him more than once that they'll kick him out if he fucks up too much. Work out your shit somewhere else, Ephemera. What else is he going to do but try and get through the day?
He stiffens at the touch, the empathy bond flaring. Anger and tension roil under the surface, everything brittle and sharp.
Then he jerks away, good eye narrowed. He doesn't know this woman. She's new. And she didn't fucking meet it.
Breathe, asshole. Don't act like a crazy person. ]
Arrival
He killed someone for no reason other than the temporary satisfaction of the fight. He put a knife through the man's throat and it felt--
He doesn't know how it felt. He died before the feeling could register. And now he's back.
This keeps on happening, doesn't it? Over and over again.
So he falls back to his old patterns. It's either that or camping out at the fight club, and the announcers have told him more than once that they'll kick him out if he fucks up too much. Work out your shit somewhere else, Ephemera. What else is he going to do but try and get through the day?
He stiffens at the touch, the empathy bond flaring. Anger and tension roil under the surface, everything brittle and sharp.
Then he jerks away, good eye narrowed. He doesn't know this woman. She's new. And she didn't fucking meet it.
Breathe, asshole. Don't act like a crazy person. ]
Try not to do that.
[ His tone is short. ]