basadoir:
The reveal of Ky’s demon form doesn’t frighten him. more than anything, it is a welcoming sight; being human didn’t matter for the moment, all pretences that stayed loyal to that purpose left to perish in the dirt the longer they clashed. Even words themselves lost their lustre, the sympathy of the savage taking over instead.
Of the two, Reaper was less inclined to give in, once more fearful of what giving in to his worst appetites could mean. But even that would be wrestled away from him, without a choice by the other’s lunge, a move he wasn’t prepared for in the height of his internal crisis.
The wraith unsurprisingly goes down, a guttural roar of anguish bellowing from his scarred throat in the process. What pain he perceives turns white hot, needing immediate relief, and so such is gained from striking back, digging his claws into Ky’s skin to heal himself through causing injury. The vitality of the devil’s spawn reinvigorating oblivion’s agent.
if he was thinking clearly, the demon would have kept it’s distance, and attacked through strategy alone. making sure that every avenue of attack from the other was taken into account – maybe then he would have had a chance to retain some of that humanity that drained away each passing moment. still, this wasn’t about proving who was stronger ( even though it could be perceived that way ) – no. this was about exhausting himself to the point of no return.
a snarl came out as he moved to dig his own claws into the wraith’s form; ignoring the pain he was receiving from the other for the time being as his primary goal was to tear the other apart. tear them apart to the point where they would have to either surrender or… fade.
it didn’t matter to ky at the moment what one. nothing mattered at the moment other than a singular goal to destroy the other. something… that he had no control over as he completely gave into his more… destructive and fatal of urges.