[ a warning shot. the bullet fires quickly in the air, the pop and bang ringing in everyone's listening ear, commanding attention. he is not afraid to shoot, no matter what anders has at his fingers.
the colors follow the trajectory of the bullet, glitching in shapes now rather than flickering bars, like light reflecting off a spinning prism.
when boothill finally opens his mouth, it feels like all of the rage flying out of him. ]
Don't you forkin' lecture me. I've had it with your long-winded, fudge-headed nonsense.
[ fudge this. fork all of this. he wants to go home. he's sick of being laughed at. he's sick of being told things he doesn't care about, being somewhere he doesn't understand. the prism's architecture and archways are foreign to him. the fact that emotions refract is not his fault. he wants to go home, and he needs something to sate that desire. shooting is what he knows best. ]
When it's time to shoot, quit yappin'!
[ in a flash, his gun drops to his hip, his other hand pulls back the safety, and halfway across the runway, boothill fires a flurry of perfectly-aimed bullets at anders. ]
no subject
the colors follow the trajectory of the bullet, glitching in shapes now rather than flickering bars, like light reflecting off a spinning prism.
when boothill finally opens his mouth, it feels like all of the rage flying out of him. ]
Don't you forkin' lecture me. I've had it with your long-winded, fudge-headed nonsense.
[ fudge this. fork all of this. he wants to go home. he's sick of being laughed at. he's sick of being told things he doesn't care about, being somewhere he doesn't understand. the prism's architecture and archways are foreign to him. the fact that emotions refract is not his fault. he wants to go home, and he needs something to sate that desire. shooting is what he knows best. ]
When it's time to shoot, quit yappin'!
[ in a flash, his gun drops to his hip, his other hand pulls back the safety, and halfway across the runway, boothill fires a flurry of perfectly-aimed bullets at anders. ]