[ Berserker bares his teeth in a snarl, a deep growl coming from his chest along with a sudden acrid scent. It's an instinctual, deeply protective reaction that he can't fight. It's not as though he'd forgotten that day (his body still showed the scars) -- it was the day that truly changed everything for him. It should have ended as the dream did, with him killing Caster and nothing else coming from it. It should have ended with him being abandoned and left alone like he deserved. It didn't end that way, though, and it was only because of Diarmuid's interference that it didn't.
Their relationship had come so far since that day and that day truly helped to cement what was to come. It was a growing point for himself; he was willing to seek a truce with Caster, if only because he didn't want to see any more harm come to Diarmuid. He accepted that Lancer was now a part of his life and would always be there, as long as he wanted to be there. ]
Don't speak of things you know nothing about. [ His tone, in contrast, is full of anger.
His rage is meaningless and only serves to make him that much more upset; it fades as quickly as it came, leaving Berserker with an annoying ache in his chest. A mouthful of sticky, black spit gets spat onto the floor (he'd gotten so angry he was ready to use his poison) as his body language relaxes.
When he speaks again, apathy has settled back in. ]
If you've gotten the answers you want, I'm leaving. I'll bring by the scales soon.
no subject
Their relationship had come so far since that day and that day truly helped to cement what was to come. It was a growing point for himself; he was willing to seek a truce with Caster, if only because he didn't want to see any more harm come to Diarmuid. He accepted that Lancer was now a part of his life and would always be there, as long as he wanted to be there. ]
Don't speak of things you know nothing about. [ His tone, in contrast, is full of anger.
His rage is meaningless and only serves to make him that much more upset; it fades as quickly as it came, leaving Berserker with an annoying ache in his chest. A mouthful of sticky, black spit gets spat onto the floor (he'd gotten so angry he was ready to use his poison) as his body language relaxes.
When he speaks again, apathy has settled back in. ]
If you've gotten the answers you want, I'm leaving. I'll bring by the scales soon.