When she lets go, so does the tether of his rage. It’s well directed, but that makes it no less dangerous. She runs, he walks. Holding out a hand, he calls the guns that caused harm to his palm, crushing them. The minds of the men and women responsible are panicked, rushing. He strolls as if he has all the time in the world.
Granted, he warps himself through space a bit closer each time they blink, more to the effect of someone approaching by strobe light. Eerie at least, terrifying at worst. He’s surrounded by his gods and magic, a fog of illusion cast thick as any Londoner would feel at home in. Sublime wrath has turned him into a towering monster that only the mind’s eye could see. His smile was most likely the most unsettling. Serene, sharp, and as one could describe it. Ready.
Unnatural life buzzed between her fins, sharks teeth slotted together as her body moved low across the ground. Fingers flexing into a wider spread, she caught up with the first of the two quick enough for her tastes, only drawing it out to leap over toppled chairs and abandoned blankets. It had been such a lovely day too, what a shame.
Hair billowing behind her into wide tendrils, her eyes darkened, lips still pulled back into a sunshine loaded smile, ready to burn the world in black fire. Tar had long taken it’s hold in her veins, coursing through her as she launched herself into someone’s back, tackling them to the ground with a heavy snarl.