the Harbinger
he/him
37
october 28th
circhester, galar
demisexual
underboss
the harbinger
I want corruption, I think I'm the devil in disguise.
TAG WITH @gavin
Cillian Quinn
temp vs gavvie [HST]
POSTED ON Jul 26, 2021 0:34:05 GMT
It was, in fact, a very stupid idea.
Gavin's sparring with his Lucario in a break between matches. After catching him off-guard with a nasty punch, the jackal administers HEALING PULSES to dull the worst of his pain and mend the split skin where its palm spike had grazed him.
The problem with a big tournament like this is that it's loud; he's learned to tune out most of the noise around him for the sake of focus. When he hears the telltale sound of steps-in-sand rushing toward him, he doesn't expect it's anything more than someone rushing to find their next match. He doesn't turn around.
Weight hits him like a truck from behind, pins his arms, and Gavin's reaction is immediate. He doesn't register the other's voice beyond the white-hot rage and panic that seize him in equal measure; there is only threat and response.
He jerks his arms up and shifts sideways, hooks his leg behind Temp's and pulls them both to the ground. His fingers wrap around the hilt of his knife as soon as his arms are free and in a flash the blade is pressed hard against Tempest Quinn's throat. His knee drives hard against the attacker's ribs to force breath from his lungs, and it's only then that he registers he knows this asshole.
"Could have fuckin' killed you, mate."
The blade draws gently against Temp's neck, enough to bite but not enough to bleed. It's a violent caress before the blade is flicked back into its housing and dropped into Gavin's pocket.
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