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Description
Snippet of the story.

The definition of insanity is, doing the exact same fucking thing over and over again, expecting shit to change. That is crazy.
Because it never does. Seven hundred years, death never changes.
“Anyone who I've ever known has been reduced to ashes or died to another stray bullet. My family died, before I could know them. My best friend shot himself in the head. The man who I called my brother, burned by my own hands. Seven hundred years and nothing has changed, and I’ve probably killed twice as many enemies. Everyone one of them would rather have killed me but none of them succeeded and I’ve stood in those numbers.”
He dropped to his knees, in surrender where rain pitter pattered around them. Dropping his head to the dirt where he watched the rain soak the mud into puddles.
“I tried a bullet to the mouth, a noose around the neck, maybe frozen in some damn glacier or burned alive. But no, there’s always that one fucking thing that keeps me alive, rage. The burning anger that keeps me up at night, every fiber of my being wants me to fight until I don’t have a single thought in my mind anymore. But I know I’ll always regret it again. Thinking about all those people I've killed, innocent among them. Throughout my years I’ve had many regrets, and in that I always regret killing innocent families in my path of vengeance. Now I’ve gone ahead and pulled you across that line I've gone too far to see, just so you could get to me. You've crossed that line too.”
“I’m done fighting."
“I’m done.” He paused, raising his gaze to her as he raised his hands above his head.
“Do whatever you want to me.”

You also may NOT copy, steal, trace, heavily reference, or alter my art in anyway.
Do not repost/upload anywhere without my permission.
Do NOT use this character as your own OC unless it is originally own or been given to you.
Please respect my art.

Youtube | Twitter

Art & Character (c) MechoMask

Description
Snippet of the story.

The definition of insanity is, doing the exact same fucking thing over and over again, expecting shit to change. That is crazy.
Because it never does. Seven hundred years, death never changes.
“Anyone who I've ever known has been reduced to ashes or died to another stray bullet. My family died, before I could know them. My best friend shot himself in the head. The man who I called my brother, burned by my own hands. Seven hundred years and nothing has changed, and I’ve probably killed twice as many enemies. Everyone one of them would rather have killed me but none of them succeeded and I’ve stood in those numbers.”
He dropped to his knees, in surrender where rain pitter pattered around them. Dropping his head to the dirt where he watched the rain soak the mud into puddles.
“I tried a bullet to the mouth, a noose around the neck, maybe frozen in some damn glacier or burned alive. But no, there’s always that one fucking thing that keeps me alive, rage. The burning anger that keeps me up at night, every fiber of my being wants me to fight until I don’t have a single thought in my mind anymore. But I know I’ll always regret it again. Thinking about all those people I've killed, innocent among them. Throughout my years I’ve had many regrets, and in that I always regret killing innocent families in my path of vengeance. Now I’ve gone ahead and pulled you across that line I've gone too far to see, just so you could get to me. You've crossed that line too.”
“I’m done fighting."
“I’m done.” He paused, raising his gaze to her as he raised his hands above his head.
“Do whatever you want to me.”

You also may NOT copy, steal, trace, heavily reference, or alter my art in anyway.
Do not repost/upload anywhere without my permission.
Do NOT use this character as your own OC unless it is originally own or been given to you.
Please respect my art.

Youtube | Twitter

Art & Character (c) MechoMask