⠀ ( anyways. thank him later for the trauma & the training if you must. he’s on his way to clean the remnants dripping from his torso. he sees you, void, passing the swiftest of unbothered glances. carrying on. ) ⠀
⠀ be composed of around 5 or 6 mech, two dead, but the ones managing to skimp the afterspark are fighting over who’s limbs get control. a grotesque display. they groan in agony, what few optics they’ve got exposed turning on the pair. ) ⠀
⠀ ( the smelter stops & crouches without a word, the locks on his glass dome top snapping open. the conjoined mass inside plunges to the ground beneath & lands with a wet, metallic thud. ) ⠀ i hope they play nice.. ⠀ ( the writhing mound looks to ⠀ 𖬺
⠀ ( no. ) ⠀ my work is done where i choose, pussycat. it’s best you don’t get tangled up in telling me where it can be done. ⠀ ( an irritable swipe of his tongue over his cheek, stalking closer. MOVE ON! ) ⠀
⠀ i’m working. ⠀ ( quick to address the elephant in the room wasn’t he.. helex oddly enjoys that. grinning, snakelike tongue peeking through the gaps. ) ⠀
⠀ ( the ‘ melting pot ’ aspect of his frame is currently occupied. a wad of various mecha resembling jeep bearing alt forms palm at the glass, streaking it with their own melted digit tips. a conglomerate cesspool. ) ⠀ is that right? ⠀
⠀ ( helex’s laughter bellows forth again, his presence revealed as he steps out of hiding, massive three digit palms pushing past cyberton’s nature; thus providing him an effortless escape. ) ⠀ weather talk? ⠀
