[it's a strategy almost guaranteed to pay off, although it doesn't take a master of observation to have sussed that out. Vincent's foot completely misses the next step and he nearly tumbles right down the remaining stairs; thankfully his reflexes are sharp enough to allow him to grab onto the railing and turn the downward motion into a sharp turn to glare daggers at the other boy.
the fact that there's only one figure behind him when he spins is a surprise that he forgets to register in his ire. all he can think now is to curse the fact that his swift pace has carried him several steps down from Kit, further underscoring the disparity in their height by the time he was provoked. it didn't matter. he'd fight both him and the specter likely looming over his companion's shoulder by now.
...or, he would if such a thing actually existed.
if he weren't so riled up then he may have remembered to choose his words carefully and deny the inquiries for a second time. instead anger clouds his judgement, and he lets out a harsh bark of laughter.]
You wish.
[or rather, he did. a single person who wanted him dead...no. it had been an entire race of people who'd railed desperately for his destruction, an entire tribune of powerful old women who stared down at him with looks of mingled disgust and fear. for so many people to loathe his very existence, it was no wonder they'd found the power to fling him from their world with prayers of a swift fall.
if it had been one person, maybe the force of it all would never have driven him to his knees.]
Who's making assumptions now?
[he plants a foot on the step above him, climbing higher with each belligerent word. calling that vision back to the forefront of his mind had also conjured up the emotions that had coursed through 'him' at the same time - he can feel them pouring through his veins now, that unnatural fiery anger. someone very well might fall from the stairwell tonight.]
no subject
the fact that there's only one figure behind him when he spins is a surprise that he forgets to register in his ire. all he can think now is to curse the fact that his swift pace has carried him several steps down from Kit, further underscoring the disparity in their height by the time he was provoked. it didn't matter. he'd fight both him and the specter likely looming over his companion's shoulder by now.
...or, he would if such a thing actually existed.
if he weren't so riled up then he may have remembered to choose his words carefully and deny the inquiries for a second time. instead anger clouds his judgement, and he lets out a harsh bark of laughter.]
You wish.
[or rather, he did. a single person who wanted him dead...no. it had been an entire race of people who'd railed desperately for his destruction, an entire tribune of powerful old women who stared down at him with looks of mingled disgust and fear. for so many people to loathe his very existence, it was no wonder they'd found the power to fling him from their world with prayers of a swift fall.
if it had been one person, maybe the force of it all would never have driven him to his knees.]
Who's making assumptions now?
[he plants a foot on the step above him, climbing higher with each belligerent word. calling that vision back to the forefront of his mind had also conjured up the emotions that had coursed through 'him' at the same time - he can feel them pouring through his veins now, that unnatural fiery anger. someone very well might fall from the stairwell tonight.]