[ Midnight's hands fly up to Vergilius's wrist. He isn't the only one with superhuman speed at his disposal... But that's latent survival instincts. Midnight looks at him. He is afraid. He doesn't want to die.
For a Sarkaz, death is life's last and most tender gift.
But before he makes up his mind whether he'd die for this, Vergilius drops him, and that's that.
Midnight drops, puts a hand on his throat. In the end, even if he looks human, he's durable enough that Vergilius would have had to go through a bit of effort to kill him... But still. ]
... You're not a demon yet, my love.
[ Very quiet, through a still crushed throat. Possibly too quiet for a man rapidly retreating to hear. ]
no subject
For a Sarkaz, death is life's last and most tender gift.
But before he makes up his mind whether he'd die for this, Vergilius drops him, and that's that.
Midnight drops, puts a hand on his throat. In the end, even if he looks human, he's durable enough that Vergilius would have had to go through a bit of effort to kill him... But still. ]
... You're not a demon yet, my love.
[ Very quiet, through a still crushed throat. Possibly too quiet for a man rapidly retreating to hear. ]