Everything feels wrong, and whatever's happened already is on the edge of faltering further, out of control. Something related to the war zone the clearing before him has become. Something to do with what Mitsuhide has already done, with what Xu Shu’s done and is about to do (what is the boy doing? he can’t dwell on that).
The bastard's bleeding heavily, but it isn't enough, and those flames - raging orange to green, moving unlike any natural fire - Daud's seen flickers of those flames before. Doesn’t like to think what magic’s been wielded against Xu Shu, what damage might already have been done. This can’t continue.
All right. All right.
He clenches his left fist, and feels time draw to slowing, slowing, and then to a hummed halt. The sound of flames fuzzes into static, the night breeze catches in place, and it's been sixteen years, but all of this feels so deeply familiar, almost right, almost as if he's missed this all along (that's a dangerous thought; he can't let that in, can't dwell on all its implications; he’s doing this because he must, and that’s all).
He can’t allow himself to lend attention to Xu Shu, has to ignore the tug of an impulse that demands to look at him, examine him, make certain he’s still standing. What must be done instead is to keep himself positioned away from Xu Shu. Keep Mitsuhide’s attention and effort focused elsewhere.
Already he can feel the Void’s pull drawing at his energy. It’s the old drain. It’s happened swiftly. And he’s going to need to be quick about this. Can’t keep this up for long, especially not when he’s out of practice, especially not when the Void seems to swallow his energy so fiercely.
Two minutes. He estimates that he can manage three minutes - two and a half, if he pushes it (he can push it) - and a series of transversals before he has to let the power drop and allow time to resume its normal flow. It’ll be enough. It has to be enough.
Gritting his teeth, Whaler’s blade in-hand, he steps into the clearing, a movement self-assured and strident. As if he has the entire situation under control. As if - almost - he isn’t worried in the least. (Better to show himself now than keep solely to shadows. Better to grab the bastard’s attention as wholly as he can. Give him another target.) ]
Mitsuhide.
[ His characteristic growl is intensified, rough and licked with fury. ]
It's me you're after, isn't it?
Let’s keep this between us.
[ The fingers of his left hand flex, and he readies himself to transverse at any moment, crossing space to take himself out of Mitsuhide’s attack range or to place himself close enough to attack from behind.
It’s time to end this. (He should have ended it the day the bastard showed up at his home, skulls aglow, reading that cursed letter. He should have known then what would happen and what needed to be done. True, he hadn’t wanted it to end this way but, but, his reticence has only harmed them all. Has only risked their safety, and he can’t allow that any further.) ]
no subject
Everything feels wrong, and whatever's happened already is on the edge of faltering further, out of control. Something related to the war zone the clearing before him has become. Something to do with what Mitsuhide has already done, with what Xu Shu’s done and is about to do (what is the boy doing? he can’t dwell on that).
The bastard's bleeding heavily, but it isn't enough, and those flames - raging orange to green, moving unlike any natural fire - Daud's seen flickers of those flames before. Doesn’t like to think what magic’s been wielded against Xu Shu, what damage might already have been done. This can’t continue.
All right. All right.
He clenches his left fist, and feels time draw to slowing, slowing, and then to a hummed halt. The sound of flames fuzzes into static, the night breeze catches in place, and it's been sixteen years, but all of this feels so deeply familiar, almost right, almost as if he's missed this all along (that's a dangerous thought; he can't let that in, can't dwell on all its implications; he’s doing this because he must, and that’s all).
He can’t allow himself to lend attention to Xu Shu, has to ignore the tug of an impulse that demands to look at him, examine him, make certain he’s still standing. What must be done instead is to keep himself positioned away from Xu Shu. Keep Mitsuhide’s attention and effort focused elsewhere.
Already he can feel the Void’s pull drawing at his energy. It’s the old drain. It’s happened swiftly. And he’s going to need to be quick about this. Can’t keep this up for long, especially not when he’s out of practice, especially not when the Void seems to swallow his energy so fiercely.
Two minutes. He estimates that he can manage three minutes - two and a half, if he pushes it (he can push it) - and a series of transversals before he has to let the power drop and allow time to resume its normal flow. It’ll be enough. It has to be enough.
Gritting his teeth, Whaler’s blade in-hand, he steps into the clearing, a movement self-assured and strident. As if he has the entire situation under control. As if - almost - he isn’t worried in the least. (Better to show himself now than keep solely to shadows. Better to grab the bastard’s attention as wholly as he can. Give him another target.) ]
Mitsuhide.
[ His characteristic growl is intensified, rough and licked with fury. ]
It's me you're after, isn't it?
Let’s keep this between us.
[ The fingers of his left hand flex, and he readies himself to transverse at any moment, crossing space to take himself out of Mitsuhide’s attack range or to place himself close enough to attack from behind.
It’s time to end this. (He should have ended it the day the bastard showed up at his home, skulls aglow, reading that cursed letter. He should have known then what would happen and what needed to be done. True, he hadn’t wanted it to end this way but, but, his reticence has only harmed them all. Has only risked their safety, and he can’t allow that any further.) ]