[ The same attack – not targeted at him this time – the Tentacle of Healing crumples to the ground again – two weaknesses then, Maruki's fury is beyond measure – useless, he feels useless – another attack being leveled at him the likes of which he's never seen – and then–
He's only had a couple seconds to register the gun when Laevateinn makes contact.
Maruki has gotten used to taking Robin Hood's attacks on the nose, but Loki is another beast entirely. The great spectral sword comes down on him and he hits the ground, hard. Pain cracks and jolts up from his knees from the force of the fall, down from his head from the strike, palms scraping and slicing against the ground as he tries to brace himself so as not to collapse under its weight entirely, a violent ringing in his ears.
His breath catches and seizes in his chest with the aftershocks of that pain – somehow, despite appearances, not magical in nature, entirely physical and much harder to shake off because of it – as he lifts his head to see–
The gun.
The same gun pointed at him in eternally dark woods.
The same gun Akechi must use back in their reality – the same gun that he will more than likely find himself up against after they return, his own hubris pushing the only ally he's ever had to turn on him, and he won't have Azathoth, he won't have anything, he'll be so useless. ]
Don't.
[ Despite the blows he's taken, his voice remains steady, strong.
It isn't fear that he feels, despite–
Endless white fields, an empty paddock where chickens would be raised in the spring, the bare branches of weeping trees, a frozen over pond, a home with the door left wide open despite the snowfall. Broken glass, footprints in the snow. The clatter of furniture overturned, shouts of confusion and panic. Gun fired once. A guttural, animal noise like none he's ever heard. Complete chaos. Rumi's screams. Fired again, and again, and again.
Maruki never saw the gun. Only heard it. Never saw anyone get shot. Only saw the bodies. By the time he emerged into the main house, the damage was done, the gun was gone. Frozen. Hadn't even been brave enough to try to get between the men and their only escape route. Could only watch in terror as hands wrapped around Rumi's throat before slamming her into a wall, could only unstick himself long enough to run to the door and watch them flee, trying to remember the car, the only car on the road, the empty road in an empty town on an empty day when nothing should have happened, and he couldn't do anything about it at all, never been more useless–
No, it isn't fear at all. ]
You're not going to kill me here, Akechi.
[ Maruki stands fast, all the blood rushing to his head, a hand out to brace himself against Azathoth's chassis as a wave of tentacles shoots forth to restrain Akechi again.
Knife on the ground – good.
Gun wrenched out of his hand and thrown aside – better.
Maruki doesn't direct Azathoth to attack. Doesn't think that far ahead. Doesn't think at all. Only advances on Akechi, wrapped in a mass of tentacles he'll surely soon be able to break free from, bleeding, gasping, laughing, psychotic. Tempestuous conviction rages in his voice – because he isn't scared of Akechi. He never has been. ]
You're not going to kill me until you have a good reason to do it.
[ Fist clenched. Arm pulled back. Useless. Knuckles connecting with jaw. Inelegant, unpracticed, but vicious, more than hard enough to hurt them both.
Maruki grips it in the opposite hand, pain radiating across knuckles that will bloom with bruises, and staggers back from him again so the Tentacle of Healing, battered but still functional, can finally take care of that goddamn stab wound. ]
cw gun violence, murder, physical assault
He's only had a couple seconds to register the gun when Laevateinn makes contact.
Maruki has gotten used to taking Robin Hood's attacks on the nose, but Loki is another beast entirely. The great spectral sword comes down on him and he hits the ground, hard. Pain cracks and jolts up from his knees from the force of the fall, down from his head from the strike, palms scraping and slicing against the ground as he tries to brace himself so as not to collapse under its weight entirely, a violent ringing in his ears.
His breath catches and seizes in his chest with the aftershocks of that pain – somehow, despite appearances, not magical in nature, entirely physical and much harder to shake off because of it – as he lifts his head to see–
The gun.
The same gun pointed at him in eternally dark woods.
The same gun Akechi must use back in their reality – the same gun that he will more than likely find himself up against after they return, his own hubris pushing the only ally he's ever had to turn on him, and he won't have Azathoth, he won't have anything, he'll be so useless. ]
Don't.
[ Despite the blows he's taken, his voice remains steady, strong.
It isn't fear that he feels, despite–
Endless white fields, an empty paddock where chickens would be raised in the spring, the bare branches of weeping trees, a frozen over pond, a home with the door left wide open despite the snowfall. Broken glass, footprints in the snow. The clatter of furniture overturned, shouts of confusion and panic. Gun fired once. A guttural, animal noise like none he's ever heard. Complete chaos. Rumi's screams. Fired again, and again, and again.
Maruki never saw the gun. Only heard it. Never saw anyone get shot. Only saw the bodies. By the time he emerged into the main house, the damage was done, the gun was gone. Frozen. Hadn't even been brave enough to try to get between the men and their only escape route. Could only watch in terror as hands wrapped around Rumi's throat before slamming her into a wall, could only unstick himself long enough to run to the door and watch them flee, trying to remember the car, the only car on the road, the empty road in an empty town on an empty day when nothing should have happened, and he couldn't do anything about it at all, never been more useless–
No, it isn't fear at all. ]
You're not going to kill me here, Akechi.
[ Maruki stands fast, all the blood rushing to his head, a hand out to brace himself against Azathoth's chassis as a wave of tentacles shoots forth to restrain Akechi again.
Knife on the ground – good.
Gun wrenched out of his hand and thrown aside – better.
Maruki doesn't direct Azathoth to attack. Doesn't think that far ahead. Doesn't think at all. Only advances on Akechi, wrapped in a mass of tentacles he'll surely soon be able to break free from, bleeding, gasping, laughing, psychotic. Tempestuous conviction rages in his voice – because he isn't scared of Akechi. He never has been. ]
You're not going to kill me until you have a good reason to do it.
[ Fist clenched. Arm pulled back. Useless. Knuckles connecting with jaw. Inelegant, unpracticed, but vicious, more than hard enough to hurt them both.
Maruki grips it in the opposite hand, pain radiating across knuckles that will bloom with bruises, and staggers back from him again so the Tentacle of Healing, battered but still functional, can finally take care of that goddamn stab wound. ]