【 ❆ 𝕊𝕋𝕀ℕ𝔾。】ᵖᵒᶤˢᵒᶰᵒᵘˢˡᶤᵍʰᵗˢˡᵃʸᵉʳ

@i-ced moved from [X]

A swift flash of damp hair that rivaled the sun’s glory turned hastily around towards the condescending  of the familiarity of the sound that dare call out his name. A vibration in his throat resonated of the utter displeasure of spotting the one whom had threatened him a time before. This nuisance would be dealt with in a moment’s notice should he assault him again from their prior engagement. For the time being he would await to discover his reasons for saying his name.

“What the hell do ya want?” A harsh lining to his words barely inaudible was only a beginning of what his actions would reveal if provoked again. One hand shielded himself from the ominous clouds shredding the element of life upon the parched earth below. Refusing to get soaked to the bone, the white dragon slayer stood under the over hang of a cafe. His internal temperature was rising and spiking to different heights only to dry himself off with his light magic; a heat source that created condensation from the blinding light flashing like a beacon for a few seconds to dry himself off.  The sooner this ice annoyance stated his reasons the quicker he could evade him and head back to his domain once there was a break from the storm otherwise he would have to seek for any lodging in the town he was indifferent towards.  

    ❝                I … ❞

█▐ ❆ ࿐ᐤ YET HE PAUSES as his lips part to speak, chapped tiers halting at the trigger as Sting’s presence alone condemns him ( discerning how the dragon slayer’s tongue was already POISED in attempts to slaughter Gray’s confident facade ). The Ice-Mage could tell his susceptibility is becoming provoked in this matter. He does feel awful, realizing how insensitive he previously was. It was only normal for an absent-minded person to have a lack of self-awareness on BOTH clothing &&. words. He decides to tread carefully with this conversation &&. avoid his guild’s reputation from being menaced again.  

    Gray was by a hair’s breadth the moment he uttered a quiet ❛ sorry,❜ before the thunder’s intensity begins to encumber him once again– word of apologies intertwining now like menacing VINES into his conscience ( &&. choking any retort he has stowed away in his arsenal ). His fingers closed against his icy palm and finally his glacial hues lower; the cessation of WAR. He elicits a grievous sigh and retreats from the walkway, allowing Sting a room to victoriously saunter pass him and put an end to this fleeting encounter.