(no subject)
Day: 36
Characters: Hidan doesnotbitch, Edgeworth mentis_reae
Summary: Hidan's getting sick of trying to justify his faith in words. A little demonstration is bound to do what he can't, right?
DAY/NIGHT & Time: Early morning, when the doors are open.
Status: Closed | Incomplete
It had been long enough since he'd spilled a little blood that Hidan's skin was itching. It got like that, when he was in one piece for too long; he filled up with too much blood, too much spirit, too much of the godhead in him, something like that. Too bad it didn't seem like the upper staff much approved of him really indulging his darker impulses, or he could've really cleaned up in this place.
It wouldn't have hurt his feelings to slaughter his way through the whining, mewling bitches making noise over the intercom and turning on each other at the drop of a hat. It wasn't like they had much to live for, anyway, no matter how tightly they held on to life. The trouble was, some people, the harder you pushed them the tighter they held.
Like the piece of work he was finally going to meet in person.
Hidan didn't exactly hate Edgeworth. Not more than he hated anyone usually, at least. But the man made himself remarkable, going on and on the way he did, and the nail that stuck up was bound to get hammered down eventually. It was only that the man had uncommonly good luck (in this regard, at least) that Hidan hadn't hunted him down for a lesson earlier.
But the day had come at last, and Hidan threw the door open without bothering to knock and leaned against the frame, grinning crookedly, half-feral as always. "You ready for this?" he said in a menacing half-sing song, narrowing his eyes at the man he'd finally cornered.
Characters: Hidan doesnotbitch, Edgeworth mentis_reae
Summary: Hidan's getting sick of trying to justify his faith in words. A little demonstration is bound to do what he can't, right?
DAY/NIGHT & Time: Early morning, when the doors are open.
Status: Closed | Incomplete
It had been long enough since he'd spilled a little blood that Hidan's skin was itching. It got like that, when he was in one piece for too long; he filled up with too much blood, too much spirit, too much of the godhead in him, something like that. Too bad it didn't seem like the upper staff much approved of him really indulging his darker impulses, or he could've really cleaned up in this place.
It wouldn't have hurt his feelings to slaughter his way through the whining, mewling bitches making noise over the intercom and turning on each other at the drop of a hat. It wasn't like they had much to live for, anyway, no matter how tightly they held on to life. The trouble was, some people, the harder you pushed them the tighter they held.
Like the piece of work he was finally going to meet in person.
Hidan didn't exactly hate Edgeworth. Not more than he hated anyone usually, at least. But the man made himself remarkable, going on and on the way he did, and the nail that stuck up was bound to get hammered down eventually. It was only that the man had uncommonly good luck (in this regard, at least) that Hidan hadn't hunted him down for a lesson earlier.
But the day had come at last, and Hidan threw the door open without bothering to knock and leaned against the frame, grinning crookedly, half-feral as always. "You ready for this?" he said in a menacing half-sing song, narrowing his eyes at the man he'd finally cornered.