Good, Ephemera thinks viscously. Cruelty is something he's learned. He might not have started out the way but he went by a different name once and that man knew the power of pressing down on an open wound. And sometimes he falls back into the old ways, like putting on another suit of armor. Even after a pause, no matter how long, it fits just fine.
He's not like Rodriguez was, doesn't kill things just for the pleasure of watching them break. Not yet. But sometimes the pain cuts in sharp and deep and he can't imagine doing anything but spreading the sensation. Making the rest of the universe bleed for the loss, for leaving him alive when his family is gone. Someone ought to suffer for that. Given time, someone will. He doesn't particularly care why. There's violence in the air and he can already hear the flames cracking.
Someone needs to burn. Ephemera imagines he can smell it and shivers all over. Meat and melted armor. It feels right. Feels inevitable.
The ground rumbles and something heavy smashes into the wall just as Ephemera's activating his flame throwers.
He glances back, frowning, but doesn't move. Why bother dodging? He'll survive it. ]
Get out of here, Freelancer.
[ Ephemera's voice has gone hard. He feels insane, drowning in all this goddamn loss, and Maine is right. There. Breathing.
You promised, motherfucker, you promised--
Do better. Drake wouldn't like it. ]
I really want to hurt you.
[ But he promised. And he tries not to lie these days. ]
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Good, Ephemera thinks viscously. Cruelty is something he's learned. He might not have started out the way but he went by a different name once and that man knew the power of pressing down on an open wound. And sometimes he falls back into the old ways, like putting on another suit of armor. Even after a pause, no matter how long, it fits just fine.
He's not like Rodriguez was, doesn't kill things just for the pleasure of watching them break. Not yet. But sometimes the pain cuts in sharp and deep and he can't imagine doing anything but spreading the sensation. Making the rest of the universe bleed for the loss, for leaving him alive when his family is gone. Someone ought to suffer for that. Given time, someone will. He doesn't particularly care why. There's violence in the air and he can already hear the flames cracking.
Someone needs to burn. Ephemera imagines he can smell it and shivers all over. Meat and melted armor. It feels right. Feels inevitable.
The ground rumbles and something heavy smashes into the wall just as Ephemera's activating his flame throwers.
He glances back, frowning, but doesn't move. Why bother dodging? He'll survive it. ]
Get out of here, Freelancer.
[ Ephemera's voice has gone hard. He feels insane, drowning in all this goddamn loss, and Maine is right. There. Breathing.
You promised, motherfucker, you promised--
Do better. Drake wouldn't like it. ]
I really want to hurt you.
[ But he promised. And he tries not to lie these days. ]