Flamebringer had been stalking these strange halls- Completely ignoring the mirrors. They were a silly distraction. An amusement to draw the eye away, or worse, to coax it away while something else came up to ambush you while you wasted your time on it.
He wasn't taking any chances, not after everything that had happened.
His shoulder burns.
He'd been brought here unceremoniously. Resting in his bed, Kisa nearby, he hopes she was safe or else there would be vengeance. Or he'd like to say so- but this place was hostile and elusive in ways he couldn't comprehend despite his best efforts.
It didn't help that half those attempts at comprehension had been while he was bedridden from the ailment blossoming on his shoulder.
Right now he wanted in and out of here, as quickly, and as effectively as possible. He had neither the time, or, as he was resentful to admit, the stamina to keep dealing with this burdenbeast crap.
So when a form comes barrelling out of nowhere, falling in a great, writhing heap on the floor, he immediately draws both of his swords this time, flinching at the pull on his shoulder and body, but not backing down in the slightest. Ready to immediately conjure up fire to put a stop to whatever this was before it could even start-
That is until he makes sense of what he's seeing- Horns, a tail- a person?
He doesn't relax his posture. Holding back on the fire, waiting, prepared.
The being- whatever it is, is obviously distressed, or angry, thrashing about, its moving around a lot, which makes it hard for him to pin down exactly who or what he's looking at. He takes a step back with a hiss as the tail almost hits him, but it didn't seem intentional.
Finally the creature turns to face him entirely and he gets a look at its face-
He hisses, eyes going wide, taking a tiny, shocked step forward on pure instinct. "Angel face-?!"
But that- He would recognize Executor's face anywhere, he'd been stuck seeing his sankta mug so often as of late it'd be hard to just forget and he owed him. That was Angel face for certain- but he had horns, sarkaz horns. A cursory glance and he recognized wings, but pinned down and restrained, and the tail- He was a gargoyle.
But that made no sense, Executor was sankta! The being before him had to be some kind of trick- But he couldn't be sure at the same time.
Despite all his earlier thoughts about not getting caught unawares and keeping on edge, he completely freezes up, stuck in what he's seeing, part of him wants to run over to help, seeing red- It looked like blood on the sankta- sarkas'? White outfit. The bondage he was in couldn't be comfortable and spoke towards scenes Flamebringer was all too familiar with. But the instincts and paranoia that kept him alive refused to simply believe this was Executor before him, different and warped in a way unnatural to the Exeutor the Ex Foedere he knew.
Flamebringer vc what's wrong with your face-
He wasn't taking any chances, not after everything that had happened.
His shoulder burns.
He'd been brought here unceremoniously. Resting in his bed, Kisa nearby, he hopes she was safe or else there would be vengeance. Or he'd like to say so- but this place was hostile and elusive in ways he couldn't comprehend despite his best efforts.
It didn't help that half those attempts at comprehension had been while he was bedridden from the ailment blossoming on his shoulder.
Right now he wanted in and out of here, as quickly, and as effectively as possible. He had neither the time, or, as he was resentful to admit, the stamina to keep dealing with this burdenbeast crap.
So when a form comes barrelling out of nowhere, falling in a great, writhing heap on the floor, he immediately draws both of his swords this time, flinching at the pull on his shoulder and body, but not backing down in the slightest. Ready to immediately conjure up fire to put a stop to whatever this was before it could even start-
That is until he makes sense of what he's seeing- Horns, a tail- a person?
He doesn't relax his posture. Holding back on the fire, waiting, prepared.
The being- whatever it is, is obviously distressed, or angry, thrashing about, its moving around a lot, which makes it hard for him to pin down exactly who or what he's looking at. He takes a step back with a hiss as the tail almost hits him, but it didn't seem intentional.
Finally the creature turns to face him entirely and he gets a look at its face-
He hisses, eyes going wide, taking a tiny, shocked step forward on pure instinct. "Angel face-?!"
But that- He would recognize Executor's face anywhere, he'd been stuck seeing his sankta mug so often as of late it'd be hard to just forget
and he owed him.That was Angel face for certain- but he had horns, sarkaz horns. A cursory glance and he recognized wings, but pinned down and restrained, and the tail- He was a gargoyle.But that made no sense, Executor was sankta! The being before him had to be some kind of trick- But he couldn't be sure at the same time.
Despite all his earlier thoughts about not getting caught unawares and keeping on edge, he completely freezes up, stuck in what he's seeing, part of him wants to run over to help, seeing red- It looked like blood on the sankta- sarkas'? White outfit. The bondage he was in couldn't be comfortable and spoke towards scenes Flamebringer was all too familiar with. But the instincts and paranoia that kept him alive refused to simply believe this was Executor before him, different and warped in a way unnatural to the Exeutor the Ex Foedere he knew.