[ If peace once flowed in El Povo's veins, he couldn't recall that time. He can barely recall what it means to be satisfied, to not have his veins set ablaze devoid of anything else. The void eats away at his conscious, his mind, burning away everything he holds dear to him like the memories of a friend who now stands across from him.
What is loyalty, the feeling asks, when he has to look out for himself?
Or maybe this is what self-destruction now looks like.
The rational, despairing thought is devoured. The dust kicks up aground them and with the barest flick of his fingers coils of sand shoot out from his palms like lightning towards his target aiming to constrict just another wall of sand blasts up in front of him, knocking bodies and debris aside carelessly so that it'll protect their god's bidding. ]
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What is loyalty, the feeling asks, when he has to look out for himself?
Or maybe this is what self-destruction now looks like.
The rational, despairing thought is devoured. The dust kicks up aground them and with the barest flick of his fingers coils of sand shoot out from his palms like lightning towards his target aiming to constrict just another wall of sand blasts up in front of him, knocking bodies and debris aside carelessly so that it'll protect their god's bidding. ]