8 | video
[the feed peels open with the thud of a body and the clunk of an NV hitting pavement, fixing on the nearby tattered structures of the slums. who knows how long the maybe familiar silhouette has been lurking where the worst in Siren's Port go to rot- though perhaps it is fitting. depends on one's opinion.]
[Vanitas is pointing his Keyblade directly down at the NV-- no, he's skirting around the throat of whoever it is he'd just knocked down. the helmet is gone, without any hint of where it may have disappeared to. what light is left before the sky is overtaken by those unsettling clouds catches his expression: his mouth is set in a straight line, but his eyes are oddly tired.]
You realize that no one would care if I killed you. [said to his victim, whose breaths take a turn for the rapid. calm and collected as ever, aren't we, Vanitas? not that he had anything for this mugger to steal to begin with, but he has a point to make here. no one would care. that was obvious of this place from the beginning.]
You get it, right? You're the scum people try to scrape off their shoes-- that's why you're here, isn't it? [suddenly, his expression sours with his train of thought. his eyes cloud, darken, and then finally narrow, and the rest of his visage follows suit, curling into a snarl.]
[someone's starting to unintentionally hit too close to home.]
Worthless. [he spits the word out angrily.] You have nothing. You are nothing. No purpose. Nothing to work toward. Nothing...
[though the obvious course of action when Vanitas sourly realizes he's been talking about himself the entire time is to off the reason he arrived at that conclusion in the first place, the feed times out right before he turns to the side abruptly and leaves his fellow worthless waste of flesh lying there for the next worthless waste of flesh who comes along to rip apart.]
[Vanitas is pointing his Keyblade directly down at the NV-- no, he's skirting around the throat of whoever it is he'd just knocked down. the helmet is gone, without any hint of where it may have disappeared to. what light is left before the sky is overtaken by those unsettling clouds catches his expression: his mouth is set in a straight line, but his eyes are oddly tired.]
You realize that no one would care if I killed you. [said to his victim, whose breaths take a turn for the rapid. calm and collected as ever, aren't we, Vanitas? not that he had anything for this mugger to steal to begin with, but he has a point to make here. no one would care. that was obvious of this place from the beginning.]
You get it, right? You're the scum people try to scrape off their shoes-- that's why you're here, isn't it? [suddenly, his expression sours with his train of thought. his eyes cloud, darken, and then finally narrow, and the rest of his visage follows suit, curling into a snarl.]
[someone's starting to unintentionally hit too close to home.]
Worthless. [he spits the word out angrily.] You have nothing. You are nothing. No purpose. Nothing to work toward. Nothing...
[though the obvious course of action when Vanitas sourly realizes he's been talking about himself the entire time is to off the reason he arrived at that conclusion in the first place, the feed times out right before he turns to the side abruptly and leaves his fellow worthless waste of flesh lying there for the next worthless waste of flesh who comes along to rip apart.]