( the boy keeps his stare to the cold slivers of steel and it's a distraction that is hard to disregard. weapons held intention of use most impulsive action did not. a sharp bit with little follow through, emotion cultivating in some reflex and expulsion of energy brighthot against the mind. where a weapon held acknowledgement of just what you could do, reflex was only just that.
most often, the two were not the same thing; a pacifist or romantic could still swing a hook in virtue of passion being kept so close to the tips of their fingers, but that would be all. but to heine, impulse was weaponized, written into a purpose he was not privy to and it was ingrained into the sinews of his disobedient existence. the irony was how this near immortality made him broken beyond repair; a fact he's accepted, a fact that feeds his convoluted convictions. )
You're - not used to things like this, are you? ( he isn't sure why he's asking; maybe it's because the kid's restlessness is palpable, radiating in waves of rhythm curluncurl of his fists and it's impossible to disregard. heine sidles forward until he stand side by side and lifts at one of the blades with long fingers.
it doesn't feel as a good weapon should - too light, too thing, a type of cold that is foreign against his skin and yet it rings as anything lethal should, finds home in the groove of his palm. ) Better than nothing, I guess.
( offered dryly, as he folds the thing into the fabric bunched in his hands. nearby, a nurse stops her swagger and with a flinch he doesn't hide he's realizing she's looking (??) at them. his elbow bumps rin's, an immediate grab for attention. ) Grab one, or don't, but it's a bad idea to stay in one place. Unless you want that shot. ( take one for the team you like the whole teamwork thing right )
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most often, the two were not the same thing; a pacifist or romantic could still swing a hook in virtue of passion being kept so close to the tips of their fingers, but that would be all. but to heine, impulse was weaponized, written into a purpose he was not privy to and it was ingrained into the sinews of his disobedient existence. the irony was how this near immortality made him broken beyond repair; a fact he's accepted, a fact that feeds his convoluted convictions. )
You're - not used to things like this, are you? ( he isn't sure why he's asking; maybe it's because the kid's restlessness is palpable, radiating in waves of rhythm curluncurl of his fists and it's impossible to disregard. heine sidles forward until he stand side by side and lifts at one of the blades with long fingers.
it doesn't feel as a good weapon should - too light, too thing, a type of cold that is foreign against his skin and yet it rings as anything lethal should, finds home in the groove of his palm. ) Better than nothing, I guess.
( offered dryly, as he folds the thing into the fabric bunched in his hands. nearby, a nurse stops her swagger and with a flinch he doesn't hide he's realizing she's looking (??) at them. his elbow bumps rin's, an immediate grab for attention. ) Grab one, or don't, but it's a bad idea to stay in one place. Unless you want that shot. ( take one for the team you like the whole teamwork thing right )