[ it's starting to hurt a bit. the plunge of countless knives into the softness of jayce's side spills a kidney, absolutely destroys his liver into two separate, gory pieces as all that gorges between them is the viscosity of jayce's blood and the arcane radiation that came littered with it. bits of tissue and stringy veins, hot mouthfuls of carnage will slob between them, back and forth; jayce pries his nails into the wound he makes from his teeth, grabs and pulls apart like a wedge to widen the injury and pull more vitality from it. his body stitches itself back together, closing wounds just as they're ripped open and replacing organs torn from the inside of his framework to keep his momentum going. it seems the same is happening to his enemy, an endless loop of consumption and healing.
until heat strikes too close to his chest, to his heart— a cavity that is already open and so easy to pull from. the heart isn't jayce's, originally— it was transplanted, given so that he may live again; tearing the pump from its snew would mean death, surely, and jayce was not going to allow the invasion of something actually precious to him. his hands respond to his emotions, frightened on top of frantic and feral, and when he drops his weight all the way back to thrust them into a fall, together—
jayce's grip freezes. literally freezes. ice cracks from his palms and surges into the creature's hide like barbs, invades and spreads like frigid wildfire. when jayce parts his stringy, bloodstained maw to bugle, a terrible sound of death, the temperature around them drops, and drops, and keeps on dropping until metal groans in protest, frost collects on hospital beds, doorframes, and creeps closer to the cause.
he'll freeze the place over if it meant survival. ]
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until heat strikes too close to his chest, to his heart— a cavity that is already open and so easy to pull from. the heart isn't jayce's, originally— it was transplanted, given so that he may live again; tearing the pump from its snew would mean death, surely, and jayce was not going to allow the invasion of something actually precious to him. his hands respond to his emotions, frightened on top of frantic and feral, and when he drops his weight all the way back to thrust them into a fall, together—
jayce's grip freezes. literally freezes. ice cracks from his palms and surges into the creature's hide like barbs, invades and spreads like frigid wildfire. when jayce parts his stringy, bloodstained maw to bugle, a terrible sound of death, the temperature around them drops, and drops, and keeps on dropping until metal groans in protest, frost collects on hospital beds, doorframes, and creeps closer to the cause.
he'll freeze the place over if it meant survival. ]