— survival can be summed up in three words

[arrancar]

WHO: grimmjow, vincent valentine & others
WHERE: around stygia and the shadowlands
WHEN: month of october
WHAT: catchall for event / other prompts
WARNINGS: language, violence etc.

( ooc | planned logs for both grimm and vv only. plotting comment here. feel free to hit me up if you're interested in doing something with one of the boys. if we've already discussed a log beforehand, feel free to drop it below or i'll get a starter tossed up. )

Comments

[paraselenes]

[ Puck struggles, and a group of overlapping voices grumble in his skull about how this now-harmless prankster had led to the death of those people in the broadcast, and who knows how much more suffering. His Shadows is the loudest of them: it reminds him that there's nothing stopping them from using Puck's blood for this—there's no reason to forgive mischief when it comes at the cost of other lives.

But with Puck safely ("safely") in Vincent's grip, he stifles his reaction down to a harsh glare before he turning his attention back to the lantern. ]

No, it's all right. As you said, it was my mistake.

[ And therefore his responsibility. Though whether one person's blood is really enough to fix this, they'll see.

He's not armed with anything seriously sharp though, so after a moment he turns to Vincent, eyeing the same claws that he's using to keep Puck in place before he extends a hand towards him, almost too conversational in tone considering his request. ]

Though would you mind helping me? [ by... slashing him up a little?? ] No need to hold back.

[ He can grab Puck, if that helps. ]

[lapses]

[ like many others, vincent's first exchange with his shadow was startling.

he has grown used to chaos stirring within him, so a new presence — one that could actually communicate with him (no less in his voice) — was disconcerting and unwanted. but as the carrier of more than one monstrosity within him, his shadow has now become more of an extra nuisance than something to be feared.

it spoke of words that he knew himself and its singular motive was provocation.

he had far more control than to allow it to manipulate and taunt him into action. but as dimitri offers his arm towards him, he hesitates and his shadow spoke: don't pretend you're afraid of harming him. you enjoy the bloodshed. go on, slice deep into him.

his brows crease together slightly before he stifles the thought and nods once. lowering his gaze to the proffered hand, he momentarily releases his grip on puck to cut into the flesh of his palm with one sharp metallic finger — clean and precise. ]