Stupid cunting piece of— [kavinsky fights like a cat. he actually has fingernails now that he quit cocaine and maybe it stings a bit, the narrow rims slicing at the skin thin of axel's wrists, the backs of his hands. he kicks-- but not at the vampire. just the interface, which turns out to be as harmless as the banging of his fists had been. more harmless, even. no injury this time-- the rubber of his soles thumping uselessly off black stone.] --Goddamnit—
[but he's out of range in a second. out of range to damage himself, mostly. axel's concerns are reasonable based on every technology he's ever seen outside of this place, but a quick glance is enough to reassure that the timeline machine suffered no harm. the hologram still wafts gently in the air, sending a soft glow against the walls. kavinsky strains pointlessly against axel's grip for two more seconds
and then promptly deflates. like if someone would've soaked the cat.]
And now you're the cunt, [he says, acidly. twisting his head back to level a stare at Axel that doesn't burn quite as hot as one might expect, but kavinsky's rage was never a sanguine thing.]
cw c-word
[but he's out of range in a second. out of range to damage himself, mostly. axel's concerns are reasonable based on every technology he's ever seen outside of this place, but a quick glance is enough to reassure that the timeline machine suffered no harm. the hologram still wafts gently in the air, sending a soft glow against the walls. kavinsky strains pointlessly against axel's grip for two more seconds
and then promptly deflates. like if someone would've soaked the cat.]
And now you're the cunt, [he says, acidly. twisting his head back to level a stare at Axel that doesn't burn quite as hot as one might expect, but kavinsky's rage was never a sanguine thing.]