{Voice; UN: bakusaiga}

[prince_of_the_moon]

I wish to fight.

{Because, damn it all, he knows battle. Relationships? Apparently he is a failure in that arena.}

Do not reply if you are weak.

Comments

[theatrics]

(( An undignified squeak escapes him when his body is slammed into the tree. Those gold cat eyes narrow and his lips press into a thing line before his hisses. ))

Hurt me if you must.

(( He knows from experience it won't make him feel better. Perhaps that's a lesson Sesshomaru also needs to learn. ))

[prince_of_the_moon]

For what purpose?

{Sesshomaru leans in close, a hair's breadth from Ouyang.}

I could blame you, but you're not the one at fault.

{So he releases his grip on both the man's neck and arm.}

I think you are the one who pursues me in this battle.

[theatrics]

You're holding back.

(( Yes, even he, a mere mortal, can see it. He's about to reply when Sesshomaru continues and Ouyang's brows draw together in outrages. ))

I will fight anyone who desires it!

[prince_of_the_moon]

If I didn't, you would be in pieces.

{He lifts his chin, peering down on Ouyang as if he is nothing more than an insect. Yes, being cold, detached and arrogant is easier.}

And you will die. Who will mourn you?

{They both know who.}

[theatrics]

(( Arrogance? Ouyang can do that, too. He hefts his chin up and meets that airy gaze with challenge in his eyes. ))

You know who.

[prince_of_the_moon]

So stop being a fool and causing him pain.

{And to cement his words - and his fury - Sesshomaru brings their lips together. Hard.}

[theatrics]

(( This time when his eyes go wide they're filled with shock. Hadn't he made himself clear when they last spoke? A startled snort escapes him as any sound he made would end up muffled. The sword nearly drops from his hand, though he somehow manages to hold it. Not even his partners would dare do something like this! Instinct takes over and Ouyang's left hand reaches for the dagger at his belt. It's not exactly this sort of situation that the Mongols carried them for... but it's close enough as far as Ouyang is concerned. With a practiced flick of his wrist, the blade is unsheathed and pressed to the demon's throat. ))

Do. Not. Touch. Me.

[prince_of_the_moon]

{His passion goes cold and the confusing mixture of emotions leaves him feeling drained. The knife against his throat, biting into his skin, reminds him all too well that he isn't wanted. Words die on his tongue and he closes his eyes. Bright flames spring up from his feet, engulfing him and his form shifts to that of a gigantic dog.

He turns away from Ouyang and bounds into the sky, longing to be away from humanity and all of the feelings they have inspired.}