[ Teeth gritted, Hei has one slick hand flexed around the lavabender's throat, the other frantically reaching to regrasp the plunging knife-hilt. At his back something flashes; in a mad moment, he thinks it's more like a portal opening than another flare of lava. He has no time to think of it further, though. Ghazan tries to shake him off before he can dispense an electric shock. A pellet-full of rocks fly at him, grazing his arm and cheek; he is getting seriously singed. His opponent is losing his footing though. With the earth cracking open under them, spewing hot froth, Ghazan will probably be killed on impact within the chasm. But then so will Hei. ]
[ He can't let that happen. To come this far, only to die crisped and blackened like a five-style chicken-wing? ]
[ How fucking futile. ]
[ That is the idea in his mind until one of Ming Hua's watery tentacles snag his wrist. In a blink, he's wrenched off Ghazan, his blade skidding across the other man's arm in a slick red zigzag. Ghazan hollers in pain; the tentacle swings Hei up and snaps him, like a towel. Before Hei can let off an electric surge, he's flung away at breakneck speed. The blurred landscape of the battle flies past him before he drops, bones crunching on hot concrete. ]
[ Pain radiates through his body's meridians. But he refuses to focus on that. A breath, a few blinks, and he's back on his feet. Before he can rejoin the battle, though, he collides with something. Hei's clothes are dirt-and-blood-streaked, a very thin carpeting over solid adrenalized muscle. So there's no mistaking the thud as the two hard hurtling objects collide. The lighter of the two falls back. ]
[ Head tilted, Hei blinks once, then twice, as if readjusting his vision from dark to bright. At his sides, his fists clench and unclench, two throwing knives still gripped between his fingers. He eyes the newcomer for a long moment, his stare blank but focused, too. Suddenly he's not sure what he's seeing, or even where he is. It's been almost a year since he's seen that particular face, after all. ]
[ A moment passes. Finally, flatly: ]
What the hell are you doing here?
[ Not the warmest welcome. But given the circumstances, Hei's social finesse isn't at its best. ]
no subject
[ He can't let that happen. To come this far, only to die crisped and blackened like a five-style chicken-wing? ]
[ How fucking futile. ]
[ That is the idea in his mind until one of Ming Hua's watery tentacles snag his wrist. In a blink, he's wrenched off Ghazan, his blade skidding across the other man's arm in a slick red zigzag. Ghazan hollers in pain; the tentacle swings Hei up and snaps him, like a towel. Before Hei can let off an electric surge, he's flung away at breakneck speed. The blurred landscape of the battle flies past him before he drops, bones crunching on hot concrete. ]
[ Pain radiates through his body's meridians. But he refuses to focus on that. A breath, a few blinks, and he's back on his feet. Before he can rejoin the battle, though, he collides with something. Hei's clothes are dirt-and-blood-streaked, a very thin carpeting over solid adrenalized muscle. So there's no mistaking the thud as the two hard hurtling objects collide. The lighter of the two falls back. ]
[ Head tilted, Hei blinks once, then twice, as if readjusting his vision from dark to bright. At his sides, his fists clench and unclench, two throwing knives still gripped between his fingers. He eyes the newcomer for a long moment, his stare blank but focused, too. Suddenly he's not sure what he's seeing, or even where he is. It's been almost a year since he's seen that particular face, after all. ]
[ A moment passes. Finally, flatly: ]
What the hell are you doing here?
[ Not the warmest welcome. But given the circumstances, Hei's social finesse isn't at its best. ]