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[childeishly]

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"Not here, sorry, but leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I find the time."

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Re: day 57, post game.

[circuitice]

[ well. this isn't going to stand. because something snaps in him, and even if he feels distantly like he might regret this later...




oh well.

he stiffens when he feels himself cross over the edge.

and as he slumps, he forms another icicle in his hand and raises it ]

Well, that's a mistake.

[ and then he stabs him, straight in the neck. ]

Re: day 57, post game.

[childeishly]

[ childe laughs! it's plain to see that he got to him ( for better or for worse ) and because he's an asshole he. just. laughs. he'll probably regret this later, but for now he doesn't give even half a shit. the laughter is abruptly cut off when snow plunges the icicle into his throat, a sudden gurgle snubbing the sound and drowning it as childe's body spasms in the throws of death. blood spurts from the wound, staining the ice and water as his face pales and his eyes roll back into his head. eventually he stops moving altogether, blood still oozing out the wound as the last of his life drains. ]

Re: day 57, post game.

[circuitice]

[ well.

He feels nothing. Very much nothing.

He pries himself away from Childe’s corpse… and leaves him to melt into the water below. They’re even now… ]