You're not so bad. [ To be stuck with. And he makes that discernment easily, despite the muted connection (which, truth be told, he doesn't have any standard for—there's no baseline for him to compare it to) of the half-Bond between them. She's breezy and devil-may-care with a solid as hell foundation in anger that lies in waiting, at the ready to be focused into the keenly-honed point of wrath. Pity, that she's a Turnskin; that he can only devour the wrath belonging to humans—he would have liked to taste that emotion, if he could've. ] And this part—
[ Where she's got her knuckles pressed to the center of his chest, his hand comes to clasp her shoulder, completing what he imagines to be a closed-looped circuit of sorts. Sure, formerly stagnant magic is always going to be sluggish before it begins its course, and while it's never going to flood the tactile channel they've established like water through a dam burst open, when it does pick up, it's... nice. Tension which he hadn't realized he'd been carrying is lifted from his shoulders in slow increments and degrees, and there's no way at all for Asura to hide that sentiment from her. Reprieve and relief are crisp, cool, and clean as they make their presence known through this cut-and-paste attachment between Turnskin and Witch.
Eyes lowered, a softer expression gentles Asura's features as his gaze falls upon Fang's outstretched arm, so readily extended to him. And no, what he's feeling is nothing at all akin to the mushy effusiveness of face-cradling or forehead-touching, but... it's weighty, all the same. She may not want him to be, but he's grateful for this. For her. With this, he can keep his promise. ] That isn't so bad, either.
The rest, though? [ The ball and chain of magic provided by the Coven; the fact that the Mirrorbound Witches and Monsters were all but dependent on it? ] It's heinous like no other.
[ And that's Asura's cue to hand the uncapped potion-flask back to it's owner, an action which...! Finds itself forestalled by the (sudden !!) appearance of another Monster on the scene, an Arachne which emerges from the thick line of trees blighted and ravening to high hell.
Guess someone should've always had their eyes turned toward the Wilde, out of precaution. And w o w—is that Asura's low whistle as the thing jumps, pitching itself into the air (and toward Fang and Asura both) with its many legs??
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[ Where she's got her knuckles pressed to the center of his chest, his hand comes to clasp her shoulder, completing what he imagines to be a closed-looped circuit of sorts. Sure, formerly stagnant magic is always going to be sluggish before it begins its course, and while it's never going to flood the tactile channel they've established like water through a dam burst open, when it does pick up, it's... nice. Tension which he hadn't realized he'd been carrying is lifted from his shoulders in slow increments and degrees, and there's no way at all for Asura to hide that sentiment from her. Reprieve and relief are crisp, cool, and clean as they make their presence known through this cut-and-paste attachment between Turnskin and Witch.
Eyes lowered, a softer expression gentles Asura's features as his gaze falls upon Fang's outstretched arm, so readily extended to him. And no, what he's feeling is nothing at all akin to the mushy effusiveness of face-cradling or forehead-touching, but... it's weighty, all the same. She may not want him to be, but he's grateful for this. For her. With this, he can keep his promise. ] That isn't so bad, either.
The rest, though? [ The ball and chain of magic provided by the Coven; the fact that the Mirrorbound Witches and Monsters were all but dependent on it? ] It's heinous like no other.
[ And that's Asura's cue to hand the uncapped potion-flask back to it's owner, an action which...! Finds itself forestalled by the (sudden !!) appearance of another Monster on the scene, an Arachne which emerges from the thick line of trees blighted and ravening to high hell.
Guess someone should've always had their eyes turned toward the Wilde, out of precaution. And w o w—is that Asura's low whistle as the thing jumps, pitching itself into the air (and toward Fang and Asura both) with its many legs??
Yeah, it sure is. That's impressive as shit. ]