( Hooking into the ridges and grooves of the Eye, Oria scrambles up there like any good teen hopping the fence off to some place they're really not supposed to go. He gets up there, and finds himself face to face with Macha - sizeably large; the broad split in his chest is as cavernous as described up close, and the way the blood oozes sickens.
Macha gazes down at Oria with his broken neck, his black halo and its internal light blaring with false fluorescence in a way that's near painful to see at such concentration. Macha's features remained shadowed, as if he were a husk withered and burnt. There's not much place to stand on the top of the ball, as Macha occupies the whole of it, and he finds Macha is far larger than a normal person and would be difficult to simply lock down with a wrestling-grapple; however, Macha is not as obscenely large as Tarvos. He does need to fit on his ball, after all. )
. . . Why . . . ?
( Despite Oria's apparent hostility, he doesn't seem to understand it. )
no subject
Macha gazes down at Oria with his broken neck, his black halo and its internal light blaring with false fluorescence in a way that's near painful to see at such concentration. Macha's features remained shadowed, as if he were a husk withered and burnt. There's not much place to stand on the top of the ball, as Macha occupies the whole of it, and he finds Macha is far larger than a normal person and would be difficult to simply lock down with a wrestling-grapple; however, Macha is not as obscenely large as Tarvos. He does need to fit on his ball, after all. )
. . . Why . . . ?
( Despite Oria's apparent hostility, he doesn't seem to understand it. )