Lizryth

@lizryth.bsky.social

124 Followers 351 Following

30s, Nerd, Heathen, Candle Maker Books | Gaming | Fandom | TF141 She/They | pfp @melh1art Banner: @emmster

Image of light text on a dark brown background that says: Thankfully, his reputation as an inhuman force of nature isn't threatened by the idle scratch over his chest or arms. Most of the time it can be excused by a readjustment or shifting of his gear. It's usually enough to take the edge off the encompassing need to tear his skin up with his nails, holds it off until he can get to his quarters and really dig in. He'll scratch along the raised ropes of scar tissue with torn nails until it's inflamed and angry, sometimes to the point of drawing blood, and still the itch won't be quelled. It's enough to make a man want to flay himself open just to find relief.
An Ellipsus snipped with the text: A mask is fitted over the lower half of his face, curving down and over his jaw. Tubes sprout from either side and arc over his shoulders towards the back of the tank, where they meet with a veritable nest of more. These seem to sweep down into the tank and meet Soap's body along his spine, sensors and nodes stuck to his skin across his body. More scales ripple up his neck, under the mask, and up over his cheeks. Where the sides of his head were buzzed before, thinner delicate scales spread along his scalp. At the top, far too stubborn to disappear, his mohawk still sprouts from amongst the scaley skin, overgrown and floating in the glowing water.
Text block on purple background that says: "Where is he?" growls out from deep in Ghost's chest, the warning rumble of an attack dog yanking at it's leash to bite and thrash and tear. Hands scrabble at his forearm, nails scraping harmlessly off of his jacket and over his gloves as the man under his grip fights to catch the breath forced out of him. The scientist takes him in with wide eyes, before recognition flashes in them and he starts to smile, laughing breathlessly. "You're here for the military type." He chokes on another breath as Ghost shoves against his windpipe again, his face going red and splotchy behind his glasses. "Tell us where he is!" Ghost snarls, not waiting for an answer as he hauls the man off the wall just to shove him back into it. A hysterical laugh bubbles out of the scientist, staring at Ghost with wide eyes. "It doesn't matter. You're too late. Go find him, he'll tear you to pieces." A bloody toothed smile spreads across the scientist's face before Ghost drags his knife across his throat, pushing so deep he almost decapitates the man before dropping his burbling body.
"We found him." The words had almost knocked Ghost off his feet. The simultaneous flood of adrenaline, relief, and dread curling in his gut had him catching the back of a chair as his knees threaten to buckle. Months. It had been months since Soap had been taken. A mission gone wrong, recon and data extraction on a new group promising outlandish things on black market sites. Things concerning enough to land on Laswell's radar and ultimately, Price's desk. It was promised as a glorified milk run; low security, target full of non-combatants — mostly scientists and janitorial staff. While that intel had been correct, they had missed the security system that had triggered when they infiltrated for the data. Suddenly alarms had blared and doors had slammed and locked, the team getting seperated and Soap not making it to ex-fil. They've been hunting for him ever since.
Brown black and white kitty laying on her back and making an "I need attention" head tilt face with closed eyes