[ The last minute dodge does earn Gen the satisfaction of getting his knife in against his armor. It skids against metal and bites in under a lip, but Dimitri doesn't seem to feel it. He reaches down to grab the wrist and squeeze until the knife drops. He's panting for breath, in pain, full of a dull anger and fury at Gen. He doesn't understand him. He doesn't know why he spends so much time trying to hurt others - but maybe this is what it has all led to, in the end. Maybe this was always going to happen.
He lifts with a grunt, hoists Gen up and over his head and turns toward that baleful Oracle with a little exhale of breath. ]
This is for you.
[ And then he hurls Gen, much like one might hurl a sack of flour or potatoes or wheat.
If he has to follow up on this, he will. But he half expects that he won't need to. ]
no subject
He lifts with a grunt, hoists Gen up and over his head and turns toward that baleful Oracle with a little exhale of breath. ]
This is for you.
[ And then he hurls Gen, much like one might hurl a sack of flour or potatoes or wheat.
If he has to follow up on this, he will. But he half expects that he won't need to. ]