[Thank you, Rosso appreciates maximum flight time, his tail is having a fucking party over here. If he were fully in night form he'd have his tongue flopping out of his jaws; at least he's spared the ignominy of that.
It looks like these battle rooms are pretty large, which is good. Rosso expects this all to be a simulation in the second, but he's currently gauging mentally how to jump off of the walls and shit. Because that's a normal thing to do. "How can I kill my boyfriend but be hot about it?" He could never go all-out against the other Masters, even; they had healers, sure, but a healer isn't going to reattach someone's head if Rosso fucking cut it off by accident. Even then, getting punched in the gut by Gaia always really fucking hurt even in the aftermath.
Hm.
If Rosso's picking the locale, he's picking something he knows — or rather, letting the Cube pull the zone from his brain. The room will warp for a moment, digitally building his old traininggrounds from home, complete with the red gouges in the platform and architecture he put there what feels like ages ago.
Yesssssss.]
My old training grounds work?
[He asks, all while summoning his scythe like he'd done earlier — a flick of the wrist and a gout of flame. This time, he doesn't immediately put it over his shoulder. He's Serious now. Serious and Dangerous.]
no subject
It looks like these battle rooms are pretty large, which is good. Rosso expects this all to be a simulation in the second, but he's currently gauging mentally how to jump off of the walls and shit. Because that's a normal thing to do. "How can I kill my boyfriend but be hot about it?" He could never go all-out against the other Masters, even; they had healers, sure, but a healer isn't going to reattach someone's head if Rosso fucking cut it off by accident. Even then, getting punched in the gut by Gaia always really fucking hurt even in the aftermath.
Hm.
If Rosso's picking the locale, he's picking something he knows — or rather, letting the Cube pull the zone from his brain. The room will warp for a moment, digitally building his old training grounds from home, complete with the red gouges in the platform and architecture he put there what feels like ages ago.
Yesssssss.]
My old training grounds work?
[He asks, all while summoning his scythe like he'd done earlier — a flick of the wrist and a gout of flame. This time, he doesn't immediately put it over his shoulder. He's Serious now. Serious and Dangerous.]
I'll let you get a free hit on me. C'mon.