#kaze has Frightened Him Immensely but at least he's doin the edward thing of Pushin His Way Through

[auricbound]

run. run until you can’t anymore. run until the only thing left of you is your bones, because then the nerves will have been annihilated.

betzalel is screaming. it’s the kind of shrill, horrifying screech he’s only rarely heard from them in the past, and even then, that was only with ICA or when his own negativity had grown too great to the point that they had NO CHOICE but to swallow a being that BURNED THEM. even as he runs, he can only think himself as cruel - though it demands he burn, he knows that it HURTS. the flames of the SUN are a blaze that knows no mercy, even to its child.

though, even among the frenzy, there is a space of calm in his mind - one that is completely stable and aware of the fact he’s being HUNTED, stalked like a predator stalks PREY.

it’s frightening. he doesn’t like when things are frightening.

the storm kicks up. he can only bring his arms up to try and shield his eyes from the particles that threaten to sweep him away, but there’s little that can be done to actually hide him ; his glasses are for maintaining his sight ONLY, not to protect them from abrasions so microscopic that distract his dear child from the much larger threat lurking within.

the dust is alive.

for the briefest of seconds before the manifestation, his breath completely halts as he feels SOMETHING swirl around him - some kind of piece of life rather than the whole - before it CULMINATES, piecing together in the dragon’s helix, just like the world of information was poured into him all those years ago, just LIKE THE TRUTH -

click.

it takes him a little too long to process the fact there’s a gun at his head. it takes him a little too long to bring his arms up with the palms facing forward just to maximize any chance of him not getting shot. it takes him a LITTLE TOO LONG take in the full figure before him - enormously tall, almost as tall as al’s armor - and understand that there is a PERSON challenging his VERY LIFE.

he reeks of chaos.

chaos ? his child ? the very thing giving him a body right now ? how does he know about them ? if he reeks of it, it must be a SENSE - but therein lies the problem. how the hell was he sensed ? he doesn't know, and he doesn't know WHAT this guy means as he continues in his - admittedly very intimidating - stream of thought, questioning him and why he's here rather than WHAT HE IS.

it leaves him speechless, if just for a good moment or so. but he at least spits out his words FASTER than before in the presence of something that could significantly incapacitate him for a good while being pressed to his skull. and he elects to ignore the memories of helios that, for some reason, have made themselves especially prominent in the face of the new being.

" i - i don' know, " he admits, carelessly, childishly. it's the truth, though - however shaky and scary it may be. " one minute my world fuckin' ends and i get scattered int' th' fabric of reality itself an' th' next i-i jus' - i get stuck in this fuckin' purgatory. i don' know. "

" l-listen - i promise 'm not meanin' ta be a problem, if i am. can y' jus' - put the gun down ? please ? 'll answer anythin' ya wanna ask me, tha's jus' freakin' me the fuck out right now. th-though ... it might be a lil' better if we - got 'way from them. those guys were insistent. "

he says it, knowing full well they're gone - but anything to get out of the dust, out of the OPEN would be better. anything to keep him from being found and having to smell charred flesh again. hopefully, betzalel should calm down when the gun's down - he doesn't want to have to deal with the familiarity while both his child and malach are resting inside his very being while terrified.

and hopefully, the piercing blue will become less ... like that, with time. it's bad enough already that he sounds absolutely pathetic.

In this land, no second chances could be afforded. The moment black met gold, fates were sealed. Hralk squawked.

"Hey! No sudden mo -"

The explosion shook the ground itself, brilliant flame reflecting off shards of polished rock and blinding the unfortunate before the hungering tongues seared them alive. It almost begged the question - just what had they done in life to deserve such a gruesome end..? Those whose lungs could still draw breath screamed, others choked on dust and smoke, some attempted to swing and fire haphazardly into the stirred-up cloud of dirt. Alas, it was all for naught - a secondary explosion following up and sending the front guard flying.

Curses and bellows of pain and rage accompanied the foreigner's escape, his remaining captors far too wounded and shell-shocked to give chase. But it was alright, even those screams would soon die out. First, drowned out among the howling winds - and, soon enough, forever. Yet more ghastly echoes to haunt these lands.

All that remained was to run. From the carnage left behind and the figure in the distance. Yes, he bore witness to it all; Stepping with callous indifference over the charred corpses.

The Sun was the life-giver and the life-taker.

And the Sun moved ceaselessly.

Run, little rabbit. The fear was familiar, the turned heel, the hood falling down to reveal messy locks of hair. No more time to conceal oneself, fighting against the storm in a losing battle. The gold hue was almost as striking as the scent of the beast that summoned him in the first place - a whole other beast entirely.

And yet, somehow, so alike. They were both killers, after all.

The man clad in pure black did not run, no. Did not give chase in great leaps like an animal, but simply walked. Sure-footed, seemingly unbothered by the wind, gaze trained on his target with eerie calmness. The demon - a part of the other - was fighting for its life. It knew he was coming. It knew being found was inevitable the very moment it had come here. And its first and final mistake was turning its back.

Do not ever turn around. Do not break eye contact. Stand your ground if you hope to survive. If you run in the open, you are as good as -

Dead.

The duststorm took on a life of its own, twisted in helical coils like twin serpents - a flash of gold and the Hunter materialized in front of the other man, like a desert wraith borne of scalding sands.

Click.

"You.." A voice that could only be described as deep as the night itself, "...reek of Chaos."

There was a firearm pressed to the radiant one's forehead, and a finger on the trigger. Blue eyes primed for slaughter, cold and stark against sun-bronzed hues. A hint of madness, ever-present. But he did not pull the trigger. No, he was.. more curious than that.

"...But you're not it. You're not what I seek." Kaze rumbled, trigger finger uncurling and hovering just over the lever. Ocean orbs narrowed, the only shift upon a visage carved in stone.

"You are... something more. Why are you here?"

And why does your Soil feel so... familiar?