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“Whatever happens to you is nothing to do with me.”
—.—. ——— .—.
As Lops runs away from the circus, slamming the fence gates shut behind him, there’s some sort of deep panic clouding his mind. He doesn’t look where he’s going, doesn’t know where his legs are taking him; he may as well be on autopilot. The argument swirls around his head – he can barely remember the details, mind as foggy as it is now, but the outline is clear enough: he’d snapped, maybe been a bit harsh, because talking about the fog had reminded him of… of…
No point thinking about it. He needs to stop running, calm down, get somewhere safe, and apologise when he has the chance.
.—. ..— .——.
Maybe he really does have a self-destructive streak.
It’s the only thing he can think of as he stands on the edge of a deep cave, looking down at the best place to fall. There’s lava there, just in case the fall somehow isn’t enough.
It would be enough. He knows that.
It feels… familiar. Throwing yourself into a situation knowing it’ll kill you. Lamb’s sword slashing through his back. Beef descending on him next to the ravine. A split second of burning before the darkness, before the light.
He isn’t excited to die again. But the fury starting to brew in his chest tells him it’s right.
This is what Massacre would want from a Champion.
…right?
— . —..
Lops is no stranger to being yellow; it was almost his default state for most of the previous game. It always feels itchy . Like something trying to crawl out of his throat.
It’s lucky he doesn’t have to deal with it long.
Seghdha climbs slowly up the tower, and yet Lops feels no nervousness. He knows that he won’t kill him. Not yet, anyway.
The itch grows worse when they climb up onto the roof of Seghdha’s monolith together - Lops hands over the renamed axe with numb hands. He almost thinks he’s on red already by the way he’s full of adrenaline, but he doesn’t think Seghdha has noticed, which is good. He doesn’t want the red name to think any less of him.
Standing on the precipice between yellow and red, between the roof and the sky, between life and death, Lops regrets nothing.
He stares directly into Seghdha’s eyes, and when the axe tears through his chest, he pretends he’s flying.
—.—. .... .— —— .——. .. ——— —.
lopsidedhead was doomed to fall by seghdha using [physician, heal thyself.]