[kavinsky walks his feet to a stop under an archway. his narrow chest is still going up and down, chagrined breaths through gritted teeth. huge pupils and sweat a sheen on his forehead. remember back when you had biological functions and sweated sometimes, axel? it wasn't

actually that great a time. the scent of kavinsky's blood warms the air. sharp, tinny. the injury is too minor to even consider a hospital facility, but it hurts— and it hurts well, burning hotly in his hand, making kavinsky think about cutting the fucking thing off at the wrist, for mere escalation's sake. not that you have places to escalate once the apocalypse itself has happened.

he pulls his arms free of the vampire. yanks his shirt straight. hackling at nothing. at his heel, moonshine is craning her head up at them anxiously.]

Fuck it, grandma. If I did kill my motherfucking timeline, probably some fucking neon green portal would open up, swallow me, and shit me out in fucking Disney World. [he leans and spits at the corner of the floor.] Curiouser and fucking curiouser. Live without your sunlight, love without your heartbeat. Shit, grams. What's the point?