[ Amongst all his injuries, the bright neon tattoo against his thigh shouldn't feel like anything, but it burns into his skin now. The reminder of all his mistakes and shortcomings, the futility of his actions and dreams.
Something tips over his in his chest, unable to bear all that suddenly fills his heart while he grips the stupid smoke bomb tight and.
Just whips it at Mandricardo.
(He hopes it crushes through his skull. His and Yamato's.)
It doesn't matter, and this is might be where he would think of his loved ones (if he HAD ANY), so his last moments before the building crumbles, glare fixed on the wailing form of his wyvern, are nothing but rage and butthurt. ]
no subject
Something tips over his in his chest, unable to bear all that suddenly fills his heart while he grips the stupid smoke bomb tight and.
Just whips it at Mandricardo.
(He hopes it crushes through his skull. His and Yamato's.)
It doesn't matter, and this is might be where he would think of his loved ones (if he HAD ANY), so his last moments before the building crumbles, glare fixed on the wailing form of his wyvern, are nothing but rage and butthurt. ]