Michael Navidson
He/Him
33
October 13th
Slateport
Heterosexual
Elite 4.
Sheriff
In the warrior's code, there's no surrender. Though his body says stop, his spirit cries, "NEVER!"
Red Sun: Airi & Navy [Extraction]
POSTED ON Aug 31, 2024 2:16:52 GMT
[nospaces] [attr="class","Navypog3"] [attr="class","Navypog3-big-img"] [attr="class","Navypog3-1"] [attr="class","Navypog3-title"] MORE HUMAN[break]THAN HUMAN MORE HUMAN[break]THAN HUMAN [attr="class","Navypog3-subtitle"] HOLY DIVER YOU'VE BEEN DOWN TOO LONG IN THE MIDNIGHT SEA, OH WHAT'S BECOMING OF ME? [attr="class","Navypog3-pkmn"] [attr="class","Navypog3-post"] [attr="class","Navypog3-icon"] Her cunning smirk is met by eyes that seem more golden than gunmetal in the light of the abyss. His hands are held like claws rather than human fists. Navy and Vortigern’s stances mirror one another, two halves of vicious alchemy. One moves, the other follows. They weave their blows together, two creatures in total synchronization with one another. The two-souled, two-bodied, two-headed dragon roars. Navy finds speech hard when he dives into the darkness of a dragon’s soul.[break][break] His language is that of shattered glass and viscous fluid scattered across Eternatus’s wet flesh. His love is shown through force, as he grabs a Nihilego by the hand and slams it down. Vortigern is upon the screaming angel in a moment. It begs for mercy in an alien language, and is given none.[break][break] More come for them. They strike out at Vortigern, the one they fear. Fear drives them to the madness of cornered animals. These Nihilego do not look like distant invaders. They do not look like aliens invading their world. They look like frightened beasts attacking that which frightens them the most.[break][break] Mist rolls in. It’s thick. Navy chokes upon the smell, like old chalky bubblegum. The smell is familiar, like the smell that signaled his return to Galar. Breathing in, his face is a mad grimace, looking more wolf than man as the mist descends upon them and covers them all.[break][break] Oh how the Nihilego do dance in the mist. Oh how they dance. They say they will never die. Those that have fallen, those that still live, they join together, they join together in mockery of Hyakkaryōran Tsubaki, one whom they call the heart mother. Nihilego fuse together, one macabre wall of clear viscous black flesh. It looms tall above them both. A wave of sludge descends upon them once again, and the dragons rise to meet it with iron head and close combat fueled by rage. [attr="class","Navypog3-bot-1"] notes about this postNotes go here
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