[Their actions continue to confuse and frustrate him. The spear remains stabbed into his other, but he neither pulls it out, or pushes further in. They're already doing the job of hurting themselves without him doing anything besides hold the spear steady. The eyes on his weapon looking toward them. Pathetic.] How do you intend to defeat me like this?
[Stop it. Why are you doing this to yourself? A small voice among the storm of self loathing and hate. He blocks it from his mind, just as his other pushes him to take another hit meant for him. His helmet hiding the moment of surprise in his eyes. Do they not think he can handle this? Is he being insulted? He growls as he pulls his spear back, just as they strike with the jackal's own weapon. There's a clink as it breaks through his helmet's armor and into his right eye. The spear is fully removed from his other as he staggers backwards from the strike, his other hand pressed against his face. The pain is nothing, but what he sees when that attack struck gives him pause. A jumble of memories mixed together, home, here, theirs. Pulling. Tearing. What is even real?
Growling between gritted teeth, he manages to remove the piece of the spear, tossing it aside as it disappates. The last image that flashes before him, being on the moon....with another hedgehog.
Who was that? A different one? Himself?]
...Pointless. [There are yellow sparks around his injured eye. Flesh and organs mending on their own beneath the spilled blood. A healed crimson eye, glaring down at his other in the next moment.] Back off. [He takes flight, intending to return to the hunt and leaving his othere where he lays. They will live, he can deal with their wounds later.]
no subject
[Stop it. Why are you doing this to yourself? A small voice among the storm of self loathing and hate. He blocks it from his mind, just as his other pushes him to take another hit meant for him. His helmet hiding the moment of surprise in his eyes. Do they not think he can handle this? Is he being insulted? He growls as he pulls his spear back, just as they strike with the jackal's own weapon. There's a clink as it breaks through his helmet's armor and into his right eye. The spear is fully removed from his other as he staggers backwards from the strike, his other hand pressed against his face. The pain is nothing, but what he sees when that attack struck gives him pause. A jumble of memories mixed together, home, here, theirs. Pulling. Tearing. What is even real?
Growling between gritted teeth, he manages to remove the piece of the spear, tossing it aside as it disappates. The last image that flashes before him, being on the moon....with another hedgehog.
Who was that? A different one? Himself?]
...Pointless. [There are yellow sparks around his injured eye. Flesh and organs mending on their own beneath the spilled blood. A healed crimson eye, glaring down at his other in the next moment.] Back off. [He takes flight, intending to return to the hunt and leaving his othere where he lays. They will live, he can deal with their wounds later.]