[ She starts to laugh, and she shouldn't - it isn't kind or forgiving. Of a memory, being thrown into the ground, the Lycan bearing down on her, and she gets her knee and foot up into its neck, the only thing that is keeping it from ripping her throat out: as she wrestles for space, her hands grip both sides to a pistol, and unloads the entire revolver into its face. ]
(Of course I can, I can shoot them, burn them, explode them, rip them apart by canons, ride them down with spears, crash their ships into the ground, drown them in oceans. Shove a grenade in their belly and pick their pieces out of my hair, if need be. )
[ Then it's a half turn, shoving the damn thing off of her. I've done it all. ]
(But I never liked it - that impersonality. I will not dishonor my opponents when it mattered by not watching them die.)
no subject
( Of course I can, I can shoot them, burn them, explode them, rip them apart by canons, ride them down with spears, crash their ships into the ground, drown them in oceans. Shove a grenade in their belly and pick their pieces out of my hair, if need be. )
[ Then it's a half turn, shoving the damn thing off of her. I've done it all. ]
( But I never liked it - that impersonality. I will not dishonor my opponents when it mattered by not watching them die. )