all gold everything
mishandling twin blades · 12/15

"What are you all looking at? It's just a sword, Jesus fuckin' Christ." In front of an audience of three, he unearthed a gift from some sick joker. The blades came in a pair, gold with minute detailing engraved into its alloy. One swung valiantly, rushing out the air in one swoop. The other weighing down at his side. A sword unknown to him by memory until the weapon was discovered at the discreet location of his cabin. Earlier he complained about the cold and needing heat to comfort the new additions to his ever growing furball family. They were the most precious things he could juggle in carriers upon arrival as his base was always mobile. A safe house here, purchased property there. Accumulating real estate to be better fitted for times of his arrival had been pertinent.

With renovations needing done on his main home away from a rinky dink apartment in the city, the thoughts of it sustaining the memories of being destroyed by his weird but fitting half, called for a break in souring a volatile mood. Perpetual in his disposition, Slade's friends tried to muff out the negative effects that always surrounded his life. The second in command stood in the forefront as the other two additions looked on. Helios had to keep the kittens in line, especially when their focus was more of goofing off instead of paying attention to the sword demonstration.

Eye was set as maintaining his untapped strength took priority, only to feel the tug of the sword's properties begin to do its job. Submitting was its influence, causing the force Slade was not used to handling in any weapon. It had less to do with weight but the compound and forged magnitude of it being of bestowed upon him from Hephaestus himself. From recollections that fastened his attraction to said object, it became much of a surprise to be able to wield it in this reality. Glimmering with its electic take on having the ability to remove a stain of a god from this world, Slade felt like a child. Excitement followed through his gaze as he swung the battle weapon effortlessly as if using his own enhancement would taint the speciality the weapon possessed. He wanted to strike someone, any living being that had the ability to surpass any meta-comprised being to see if it worked. He knew the titan like beings he's gone up against, even the few who may have been present in the now. Wasting the shredding of destruction and death on something unworthy to be struck, coddled his growing displeasure.

"Carrying this becomes a burden. Opting to only use it at times of threat would diminish it's true use," he spoke as if the cats collectively were listening. They were in their own world, less amazed by the swing he took, and more captivated by the toy mice being pounced on. "Would you all knock it off?" He went unheard again and apparent frustration stitched his thick brows together. Twin swords fell at either side of him, tapping the floor gently when it's damage was capable of being great. Where there was fixed control, gently letting them go, there had been equal amounts of devestation. His enhancements were rapidly fueled, pumping the abilities to fully use the weapon to more of his body's potential. Like a virus, one that was capable of taking over like intended, wanted to do much of the same with its new vessel.

One who was worthy controlled the fitted blades and there he was, compelled to test it out further than just ripping through the air in a timed fashion. Slade backed away slowly as muscles intensely twitched, biceps and the proper groups of fiberous links that worked in tandem, throbbed from the sword's effect. As much as blood wanted to be spilt by the semi-sentient pair, Slade was moved to fulfill that one wish. He could grant the wish easily by picking off targets in his line or going out of his way to chop at the dummy planted in one of the spare rooms.

With the kittens and his second in command fooling around doing what cats do, Slade watched on with amusement instead of falling deeply in tune with the blades he had come into contact with. They were tethered to the fibers of his being and it tossed his attention back to the intricate slabs of metal that attempts to put them down even for a second, proved to be non-negotiable. From zero to 60, he was positioned to move fluidly without his command, taking the reigns on ways of slicing through the air in a manner that could be damaging to any opponent. Slade eyes widened as he felt going in slow motion with the attacks to nothing in particular but the blades forward in thinking, acting for him. This was their way of telling him of its use.

To remind him the abilities and how far he could go with the right opponent to befall before him. It kept his ever racing mind going while cursing at the top of his lungs trying to fight the tug and the example being made. The man wanted to test drive it even more. To flay the individual that crossed him. To make an example. To show that he was the bearer of death personified especially with the blessings given. While memory served a purpose to collect his weight from shifting more towards any valuables in the room occupied or even the cats he'd grown fond of, the last thing he needed was for Nate to have a melt down at the carnage issued.

Fighting and dragging his arms in the direction the blades wanted to go was like disputing against a being that was invisible. It's own source of energy could only be measured by the powers forged for its duty to slay and Slade was out of the game that evening to do such a thing. He felt his body drag along with it until coming close to a chair, where the metal's sharpness rain down like a guillotine, seperating the wooden structure roughly in half.

"Whoa, fuck! Easy I say!" He barked as if the double blades would listen but he sharply hissed at his cats to flee the moment he passed them by but in hurried motion and with Helios leading the retreat, they were the last things to worry about as arms cinched up in a tight swing before he pulled one blade back to launch with compacted strength forward. One blade dislodged from his sweaty grip, fizzing through the air until it landed into the wall. The other still gripping tightly was forcing itself to be handled and supported with two hands.

Out of bounds he gritted his teeth, strained to slam the blade right into the floor with might of more than enough men. Once he ran the blade halfway through the floorboard, Slade fell back onto his ass, and collapsed onto his back. "You gotta be kidding me..." His level of disbelief transcended into worry, let alone concern of what he would do. Before he could get off his back, he felt paws pressing against his head until the furballs came to save the day, and saved him from raging uncontrollably at the misfortune of swords having a mind of their own.