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dude. I didn't even notice you had two headers. I am so observant.  Also, look, this is longer!
cradle me in your crooked heart
There were so many things wrong with the world and Tsunami was sick of going over them again and again in his head. The philosopher would tell you there was no wrong; morals were a system created to control, to strap a leash on the conscious of the willing. Who were they to claim what was bad, what was good? Hell, he had no authority over shit like that. He was no God and he had known that always. Tsunami had always been too busy wallowing in the mud with the rest of society, indulging in his sins, one after the other, because that was why Jesus had died, right? Might as well not make his death in vain. The nostalgia was gone now, and all he was thinking about was the sickening realisation -- still sinking in, even now -- that the very same body he'd touched and caressed and held and wanted and fucked so many times (over and over) was the very same one that had devoured the flesh of his dead son. This, whatever this even fucking was anymore, was tainted like the ocean after an oil spill. Tainted with the touch of something evil. This was something the gray wolf hadn't felt since he had killed Malachi, the first and last man he had murdered.
He wanted this. And not just for Ire. For revenge. For closure. For himself.
He was a monster after all. He was his father, after all.
A fierce snarl escaped his throat as he heard the hybrid's words (that beautiful voice, now torn up with all the purity washed from it; this was the voice of a servant of Satan, of something that should be dead.) He could hear the blood as well as smell it. It was in his ears. It was in his eyes, and it was like he could see out of both of them again, it was like that one leg was like new, it was like he had the strength of a million furious angels seeking to rain down God's wrath on the non-believers. Adrenaline was a drug, and it pumped viciously through his veins. Just like old times. The sky was black and he felt no pain. His knee had hit its mark and his stomach was going to be scarred up a little more, wasn't it? More blood. He could even taste it, now.
Funny.
The left leg struck the hard earth behind him and he regained his balance after a moment. Swinging out both arms, Tsunami went to grab a hold of the hybrid's side and shove his own weight (every last ounce of it) against the other male with the intention of knocking him to the ground. The one-eyed werewolf was ready to fall with him, attempting to position himself so he would land on top (just like old times.) It'd be easy from there to tear apart the other's throat and let the blood stain the ground, just like he had done to his first lover.
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