Post by nozomi on May 19, 2011 13:46:41 GMT -5
Freedom.
Machi could all but smell the possibilities in the air around him, the wind in his hair, and moving about freely without leather thongs binding his arms, or chains on his feet. He'd be able to kill whatever he wanted, and take anyone he needed to take to fill that dark hole in his soul. With Jessan, she'd make it so he could keep them hidden properly away and care for them like they should be.
He wanted someone small and soft, delicate, already broken. Maybe that mouthy boy from the recreation area. Maybe he'd crack during this breakout, maybe someone already got to him. Machi hoped so. He'd relish taking control of the pretty thing, of making him cry and need him and --
No. He had his goal, a final destination of sorts. Machi stalked through the crowds of prisoners with a murderers intent, a wild man with a dead face and unwashed, tangled hair, dark smudges under his eyes. He'd healed well enough to not limp and to grip that gruesome dagger firm in his previously injured hand.
He'd have to thank that healer. Personally.
Someone came at him, fast, a blur of red hair and shrieks, a guards uniform and a baton in her hand. All Machi felt was the ground under those soft leather shoes when he spun, his fist against her cheekbone. A sickening crack lit through his ears. She dropped and Machi with her, the killer on top of her and a dagger in the soft part of her torso.
He snarled, jerked his hand up, and she screamed. Blood went everywhere, reminding him just how full humans were and how much hotter they were when injured and open. Her last sight was his pale face, eyes blazing rage, bared teeth.
The anger fell from his expression as soon as he stood. Bigger wherries to take down, after all, and Machi continued on his trek.
(ANYONE who wants their kid to come in contact with Machi is free to try. I promise he won't kill them or injure without prior permission from you. He doesn't have much interest in just ripping people apart for no reason.)
Machi could all but smell the possibilities in the air around him, the wind in his hair, and moving about freely without leather thongs binding his arms, or chains on his feet. He'd be able to kill whatever he wanted, and take anyone he needed to take to fill that dark hole in his soul. With Jessan, she'd make it so he could keep them hidden properly away and care for them like they should be.
He wanted someone small and soft, delicate, already broken. Maybe that mouthy boy from the recreation area. Maybe he'd crack during this breakout, maybe someone already got to him. Machi hoped so. He'd relish taking control of the pretty thing, of making him cry and need him and --
No. He had his goal, a final destination of sorts. Machi stalked through the crowds of prisoners with a murderers intent, a wild man with a dead face and unwashed, tangled hair, dark smudges under his eyes. He'd healed well enough to not limp and to grip that gruesome dagger firm in his previously injured hand.
He'd have to thank that healer. Personally.
Someone came at him, fast, a blur of red hair and shrieks, a guards uniform and a baton in her hand. All Machi felt was the ground under those soft leather shoes when he spun, his fist against her cheekbone. A sickening crack lit through his ears. She dropped and Machi with her, the killer on top of her and a dagger in the soft part of her torso.
He snarled, jerked his hand up, and she screamed. Blood went everywhere, reminding him just how full humans were and how much hotter they were when injured and open. Her last sight was his pale face, eyes blazing rage, bared teeth.
The anger fell from his expression as soon as he stood. Bigger wherries to take down, after all, and Machi continued on his trek.
(ANYONE who wants their kid to come in contact with Machi is free to try. I promise he won't kill them or injure without prior permission from you. He doesn't have much interest in just ripping people apart for no reason.)