| [Jun. 5th, 2009|03:10 am] |
Rage had its own scent, unique to the person, but acid-adged for everyone. Ginta's smelled like liquid metal, heated beyond the point of tolerance. Like burning diamonds. His eyes glittered, hands trembling around their bloodless grip. All of him trembled. Kakashi could feel the low cot shaking, held half-way still only by his own, carefully unmoving weight.
Scent added spark to flame; his teeth clenched, muscles tightened. Hands trained to break bones from childhood ached with the urge to put Ginta down.
But that wasn't how this worked. Ever.
Slowly, deliberately, he set an empty palm against Ginta's sharply angled shoulder and pushed him flat. Muscles tensed like petrified wood, but Ginta didn't have the strength to resist. Where he'd gotten the strength to even pull himself up, Kakashi didn't know.
It was amazing what anger could do.
He kept his hand against Ginta's shoulder when the man tried to surge up again, and bit his tongue hard enough to bead blood around a sharp canine. Breathed slowly through his teeth, trying not to scent more fury. Not to say something stupid before he'd figured out exactly what he wanted to say.
"I'm sorry," he murmured finally, face set marble still. "Now stop struggling before you injure yourself." |
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