#mfw dar almost doesnt want to tell him either. yknow as if keeping his mouth shut has ever helped any!

[innerbeast]

he thought he had heard someone familiar; a voice mingled with the rest in their continuous onslaught against him. it was hard to discern, blended into agonizing wails and the blasphemies taunting words, but dar'khol knew he heard a voice he should recognize -- and he'd been right.

ears rung with the sound of screeching steel, watching is brothers claws meet with the, now, opposing blade. widened eyes watched on as yuri knocked the beast away, the voice that fell from him more of what he had grown used to ( no where near as cold as he swore he'd heard prior ).

dar's mouth fell open, a want to say something -- anything -- to try and persuade yuri to back down, to step away. this wasn't a fight he needed to get tied up in, not a clash he'd ever wanted to imagine -- let alone see. instead, all he can bring himself to utter is his name. a low, surprised, "...yuri."

flattened ears twitch with khol'a's hiss, watching the twisted form of his sibling stumble back. it's hard to keep his focus on it, however, as his field of view is overtaken by a concerning stare. those darting eyes only having the warrior's own slink to the side, the scorched ground beneath him seemingly more preferable. even as he's moved under the others hold his gaze refuses to rise, responding instead with a tightening jaw.

that's not it, he wished to say. it's complicated, is how he wanted to cover it.

but no matter how it was phrased it was hard to deny the appearance of it all. boisterous and headfirst; rushing in with an ever-present eagerness for a fight... that's how he'd held himself. that's how he liked to be, but how was he suppose to keep that up when the one he was meant to cleave wore his brothers face? just a while ago they had been bickering as always. laughing, taking jabs at one another -- it didn't matter if it was all dreamed up, he was enjoying that fantasy for all it was worth.

now... it may as well never have been.

"... i was a lil' thrown off, that's all." slowly, an arm is brought up to brush away his rivals' hold, an attempt to pull himself together following its movement. he'd stated just a breath ago that he would try, didn't he. it's all he could do, right now. " 'sides, i've had worse--"

that last word drowns in a rising cackle, the abomination from before standing tall with newfound vigor. as its maw opens the voice that leaves it is soft, purposely so.

"oh, khol'to..." its grin only widens with dar'khol's evident flinch from the name, "you've never been a good liar, i'm amazed you still try!" another laugh, bordering a wheezing hiss within this twisted version of itself.

"--and that name! i've heard it before from that friend of yours. so, this is him, then? oho, i did so desperately want to meet you," tilting its head, lips seemingly stretch beyond their limits to form an ungodly smile as blazing eyes fall upon the sword-wielder. it wanted to play it sweet, to ride off the mannerisms of the man it once was.

just that alone was enough to have dar'khol's grip readjusting, pulling himself forward with the weight of his axe. "i'm the one ya chose to haunt, khol'a, keep him out of it!"

dar'kho's defensive retort was enough to have the monster laughing again, its form snapping as it readied a charge; both intent to pick up where they'd left off before, one of them still stuck playing the defensive.

"don't tell me you don't want to introduce us!? what happened to telling me everything -- as you always have!"

"i don't have to tell ya shite!" not like this, i don't.

'p-please, no! not like this! i-i don't want to go like this! 'tell me, how many times have you heard those very words?'

it's ironic (sickening), how easily cumore's begging slots itself into the chorus of helpless cries.

screams, rather, within a labyrinthine, house-dotted forest-- gnarled trees, pelted by hellfire and choked by rattling chains... none of this agonizing nightmare is familiar to the swordsman aside from his own demons unceremoniously barging in, but that doesn't make it any less haunting.

it's not his nightmare, that much is clear. then... whose is it?

as if to answer him, a new voice -- missing its vibrancy -- breaks through the din: 'i am undeservin'...' shit. yuri's head swivels toward its source with an inhale, bordering on a gasp. where the presence of that voice would usually bring about a sense of warmth, it only leads to panic here. dread.

dar... what the hell is all this...?

he's running now, the looming confrontation sending yuri's heart into a frenzy, his feet racing just as quickly, if not more. each distant clash carrying him faster.

those razor-sharp claws never get the chance to rip at flesh. instead, they scrape gleaming steel-- an ear-splitting sound, welcomed over the ceaseless cries.

"'realms' savior', 'beacon'... let the guy breathe, will ya?" his bravado straining through grit teeth, accompanied by another screech of metal as he knocks it aside, "who cares if he deserves it? with ungrateful, mouthy bastards like you around, be glad that he's stubborn enough to take on the title at all!"

his heel rams into the beast's gut, dazing it long enough for yuri to whirl around and grasp dar'khol's cheek. his darting gaze twofold -- searching for injuries, noting the distress -- but pressed as they are, his hand drops to a burdened shoulder, jostling, "damn it, dar! pulling punches like that-- are you trying to get yourself killed?!"