Bran was one of the more frightening things out on the field, burning like ice as he picked off his opponents with precise efficiency and deadly silence. Every single one of them were paying for the death of his family. For the death of his woman.
If that was unfair of him... well, he didn't really care, and neither did they once they were hustled along to the next realm by the quick flashing of his blades. They didn't care about anything at all anymore.
His blood ran cold like the northern seas in his veins, and once the battle rage coiled itself up inside that place he could always feel nudging at the back of his mind it made him feel slow and sluggish.
You couldn't tell by his movements as he rapidly walked about half a step in front of Tybalt at an almost rushed pace - still with that eerie fae grace - but that did not make the feeling of walking under water any more pleasant.
That was why the first thing he did as soon as they got somewhere private enough was to swivel around in a blurr of movement to slam Tybalt up against a wall, despite both of them still being covered in sweat and dirt and blood. Despite armor still resting heavily on both their shoulders.
He just needed to connect to the world of the living again. Needed to pull himself back from the wintry realm of death and feel heat and passion and life.
So he kissed Tybalt. Bit his lip until it bled and lapped up the coppery taste of victory with his tongue before sliding it back into his friend's mouth so that they could both taste it.
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If that was unfair of him... well, he didn't really care, and neither did they once they were hustled along to the next realm by the quick flashing of his blades. They didn't care about anything at all anymore.
His blood ran cold like the northern seas in his veins, and once the battle rage coiled itself up inside that place he could always feel nudging at the back of his mind it made him feel slow and sluggish.
You couldn't tell by his movements as he rapidly walked about half a step in front of Tybalt at an almost rushed pace - still with that eerie fae grace - but that did not make the feeling of walking under water any more pleasant.
That was why the first thing he did as soon as they got somewhere private enough was to swivel around in a blurr of movement to slam Tybalt up against a wall, despite both of them still being covered in sweat and dirt and blood. Despite armor still resting heavily on both their shoulders.
He just needed to connect to the world of the living again. Needed to pull himself back from the wintry realm of death and feel heat and passion and life.
So he kissed Tybalt. Bit his lip until it bled and lapped up the coppery taste of victory with his tongue before sliding it back into his friend's mouth so that they could both taste it.