Azul fic?! AZUL FIC!!!
Mako was a pitiful thing to be addicted to, in Azul’s opinion. He contemplated that as he felt it regenerating the bones that Weiss had just snapped. As far as Azul could tell, Weiss was the only one who would physically snap his bones. Rosso would rather Azul die out of blood-loss and Nero was more effective with mental trickery. Shelke and Argent didn’t fight him, one due actual physical weakness and the other due to status. None of the others would crack him so efficiently, but Weiss could take Azul’s arm and snap it like a branch.
A lot of the fight had been circumstantial in its proceedings. If Azul had been any other being, he could have justified crying out when Weiss snapped his arm across his knee. Instead, he had taken advantage of the proximity to Weiss and bashed him so hard that he left an almost-cartoonish indent in the concrete floor. If someone who wasn’t a Tsviet had even attempted to put Weiss in pain, Nero would have gotten involved. A Restrictor could have also fought Weiss without consequence, but Restrictors existed in a hazy part of Azul’s mind. They weren’t opponents that could be fought, and so Azul didn’t bother to consider them.
Azul barely felt the life energy absorbing into his skin and streaking down to his injured arm. He was focused on the crowd that had formed when the word “experiment” was mentioned. There were fifteen or so people standing along the sidelines, asking questions of the oldest one there. The scientists had gotten their information. Revisions would be made to his training regimen, as well as Weiss’. Different supplements would be doled out to both of them. Weiss’ would probably encourage resilience (as if he needed much more of it), and Azul’s would encourage stronger bones.
It wasn’t a finished fight yet, Azul decided. Though his arm was still mostly broken, he had his other, plus his feet, teeth, and the Metamorphose experiment as a last resort. He could still win. Azul pushed himself up with his good arm. He yanked the scarf from his neck and fashioned a quick sling with one arm and his teeth. Over to the side, Azul could hear murmurs of “resourceful.” They didn’t matter.
“Get up.”
Weiss remained immobile.
“Weiss.”
Still nothing. More murmurs arose from the sidelines. “Dead” was a word that came up fairly frequently. Azul approached the corpse. Weiss was still young, in his early twenties. It would be a waste of potential for Weiss to die from some sort of internal rupturing. “Weiss.”
Azul didn’t process the blow until he was already a foot in the air and sprawling backwards with his teeth clicking together. Weiss, who had previously been so still and prone on the ground, was up and shaking out his arms. Playing possum. Azul would have to remember that one for infiltration purposes.
Guys, the Nyancat song won't stop in my mind.... Not that I'd ever want it to.