[ yuuri can feel the sweat dripping down the back of his neck, and his eyes are panicked and wide as he glances back to the creature with too much teeth and tongue, too many limbs in the mass of darkness blacker than the night surrounding them. it's like someone took a pair of scissors and carefully cut out all the bits of the sky without any stars in it, like the creature is some kind of a black hole that sucks in everything in its path, and yuuri's whole being shrinks back from it -- but the only thing behind him now is the sheer, terrifying drop from the top of the building.
when the creature jumps, yuuri lets out a yell -- half from sheer terror, half from something more raw and open than anything he's ever used to, something deep in his chest flaring and throbbing with ... with whatever that'd emerged out of him earlier. he doesn't know what to call it, except a part of him knows that this is the only thing standing between him and certain death.
he barely notices fushimi; he barely even listens to his words themselves, but the annoyed determination behind the tone is all too easy to recognise.
there's weapon in his hand, in his persona's hand, it's hard to tell where one begins and the other one ends. yuuri has never used one of these before, except his body somehow moves easily with it, something inside him guiding the movements of his arms. the heavy weight on the end of the chain swings out into the space between him and the creature, and coils itself tightly around two of the limbs, holding it down tightly. ]
I am doing something!
[ who does this guy think he is, anyway?
yuuri yells through gritted teeth, pulling sharply at the chain to keep the creature steady and immobile, even as it struggles. ]
II-B
when the creature jumps, yuuri lets out a yell -- half from sheer terror, half from something more raw and open than anything he's ever used to, something deep in his chest flaring and throbbing with ... with whatever that'd emerged out of him earlier. he doesn't know what to call it, except a part of him knows that this is the only thing standing between him and certain death.
he barely notices fushimi; he barely even listens to his words themselves, but the annoyed determination behind the tone is all too easy to recognise.
there's weapon in his hand, in his persona's hand, it's hard to tell where one begins and the other one ends. yuuri has never used one of these before, except his body somehow moves easily with it, something inside him guiding the movements of his arms. the heavy weight on the end of the chain swings out into the space between him and the creature, and coils itself tightly around two of the limbs, holding it down tightly. ]
I am doing something!
[ who does this guy think he is, anyway?
yuuri yells through gritted teeth, pulling sharply at the chain to keep the creature steady and immobile, even as it struggles. ]