JULY 9, 2014.
Post by ASHTON ARTERIUS on Mar 25, 2014 18:34:31 GMT -5
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Golden orbs gazed intently upon an improbable sight, soft footwear coasting back a single patter. The scent of ruin, ash, and death soured his nostrils, and marred his grinning visage with a slight pinch of exasperation. A stream of wind breezed his tattered garbs, remnants of his black fur collar gliding off into the distance, rapping above of a horde of fresh corpses, and all the lieutenant could do was funnel the bulk of his annoyance into a sighing cackle. His eyebrows twitched as the flaming dragon wagged its tail, bringing its growling muzzle towards him.
“Mikono-ch—?!” He said; his whimsical baritone morphing into a ragged gasp as a distorted claw made a swiping ragdoll out of his body. His wine-colored hair mingled with the ounce of his dancing blood, leaving his imprint in the faces of two buildings as rubble and debris ruffled into his garbs. He shook his with a few blinks of the eye, he found himself crashed against the wall of a café, with his form sprawled on his stomach with his right arm in unresponsive twirls and twitches.
He grunted as he single-handedly got up, watching as his blood dripped onto the ground. He leaned backward on his knees, thoroughly surprised his hand was still wrapped around his released Zanpakutō, and ignoring the whirlwind of broken bones in the lateral limb. A crimson red essence began to lather his skin, replenishing every injury on his body. The self-inflicted hole in his abdomen began to bubble and restore with ecstasy, his arm repositioning its bones in a disgusting counter-clockwise spin. He cracked his neck with a twirl of the head, his eardrums flooded with the sounds of an aerial dragon channeling every molecule of its passion into a roar.
Ashton rose to his feet, rapping the feet of his renewed body towards the crumbling exit with his grin reforming. His eyes widened outside to find a circling dragon breathing harsh streams of fire on anything or anyone unfortunate enough to exist around it. The ceiling of the shop tumbled and introduced a maelstrom of debris into the atmosphere around him. Ashton emerged with a calm stroll, his activated Bakkōtō rested at his left side, and his platinum soul-fledged blade at the other—and they were both hollering for blood.
Claws landed on the ground in front of the lieutenant, vast blue orbs passionate with pain, with a roar to be heard and feared throughout miles. The dragon slowly neared its head towards him, growling as if it was ready to bite his head off at any moment.
“Mikono-ch—?!” He said; his whimsical baritone morphing into a ragged gasp as a distorted claw made a swiping ragdoll out of his body. His wine-colored hair mingled with the ounce of his dancing blood, leaving his imprint in the faces of two buildings as rubble and debris ruffled into his garbs. He shook his with a few blinks of the eye, he found himself crashed against the wall of a café, with his form sprawled on his stomach with his right arm in unresponsive twirls and twitches.
He grunted as he single-handedly got up, watching as his blood dripped onto the ground. He leaned backward on his knees, thoroughly surprised his hand was still wrapped around his released Zanpakutō, and ignoring the whirlwind of broken bones in the lateral limb. A crimson red essence began to lather his skin, replenishing every injury on his body. The self-inflicted hole in his abdomen began to bubble and restore with ecstasy, his arm repositioning its bones in a disgusting counter-clockwise spin. He cracked his neck with a twirl of the head, his eardrums flooded with the sounds of an aerial dragon channeling every molecule of its passion into a roar.
Ashton rose to his feet, rapping the feet of his renewed body towards the crumbling exit with his grin reforming. His eyes widened outside to find a circling dragon breathing harsh streams of fire on anything or anyone unfortunate enough to exist around it. The ceiling of the shop tumbled and introduced a maelstrom of debris into the atmosphere around him. Ashton emerged with a calm stroll, his activated Bakkōtō rested at his left side, and his platinum soul-fledged blade at the other—and they were both hollering for blood.
Claws landed on the ground in front of the lieutenant, vast blue orbs passionate with pain, with a roar to be heard and feared throughout miles. The dragon slowly neared its head towards him, growling as if it was ready to bite his head off at any moment.
“Fine. You always liked to do it the hard way, Mikono.”
CODED BY ELECTRIC OF GS
