They say the beat of a butterfly's wings can cause a tempest alone - if, then, the butterfly were burnt ... what of the resulting inferno?
A curious thought, but a thought and curiosity alone. It was no concern to the bounty hunter Komorebi Rin and the drip drip drip of plasma from his tail, as he found himself settling in the eye of either storm. He flicked the demonic appendage to rid himself of its ichor, scattering across the floor where it joined in with the puddles already at his feet. His eyes - the red still burning at their rims - could only linger for a moment over the scene he had carved, a 'tsk' from between such pretty lips to dispel his disgust. He wasn't a crazed beast: the tactile, taste or scent, and even sight of blood ... he found it unpleasant. It was a matter of circumstance, not interest. The contract had asked him to handle a rival to a street gang upcoming in the port city.
A simple enough ask, and a quick enough execution; irony, that. He didn't expect a massive payout from these stakes. It was all he could do to slip into a seat at this den's bar, darker in the reaches of slum trade, and sigh. Pout, even. His tail curled its shape then twitched out again, a current of unease keeping him alert - to his displeasure. There was more than a handful of corpses left strung about and he'd have to deal with them in due time. Cleaning, also, was below him; but a bounty on his head was the furthest thing in his interests. Only two had given him any trouble after the initial wave of malice, most sodden fools managed with but a lash of their sins, but any trouble at all was a sore spot for the imp. He drilled his tongue against his cheek in thought, willing the curse to abide enough for him to sink his back against the bar. Infernal sigils fizzled at every end of the room, but then began to fade as dull as the ring of his eyes.
"Well, better luck next time," he spoke without looking to the head of a man sharing the bar with him, slumped from its other side. "Whoever you crossed really didn't wanna be messed with. You never dance with the devil you don't know."
A soft, dark laugh followed this. "Why, none of you could dance at all ~."
A curious thought, but a thought and curiosity alone. It was no concern to the bounty hunter Komorebi Rin and the drip drip drip of plasma from his tail, as he found himself settling in the eye of either storm. He flicked the demonic appendage to rid himself of its ichor, scattering across the floor where it joined in with the puddles already at his feet. His eyes - the red still burning at their rims - could only linger for a moment over the scene he had carved, a 'tsk' from between such pretty lips to dispel his disgust. He wasn't a crazed beast: the tactile, taste or scent, and even sight of blood ... he found it unpleasant. It was a matter of circumstance, not interest. The contract had asked him to handle a rival to a street gang upcoming in the port city.
A simple enough ask, and a quick enough execution; irony, that. He didn't expect a massive payout from these stakes. It was all he could do to slip into a seat at this den's bar, darker in the reaches of slum trade, and sigh. Pout, even. His tail curled its shape then twitched out again, a current of unease keeping him alert - to his displeasure. There was more than a handful of corpses left strung about and he'd have to deal with them in due time. Cleaning, also, was below him; but a bounty on his head was the furthest thing in his interests. Only two had given him any trouble after the initial wave of malice, most sodden fools managed with but a lash of their sins, but any trouble at all was a sore spot for the imp. He drilled his tongue against his cheek in thought, willing the curse to abide enough for him to sink his back against the bar. Infernal sigils fizzled at every end of the room, but then began to fade as dull as the ring of his eyes.
"Well, better luck next time," he spoke without looking to the head of a man sharing the bar with him, slumped from its other side. "Whoever you crossed really didn't wanna be messed with. You never dance with the devil you don't know."
A soft, dark laugh followed this. "Why, none of you could dance at all ~."