I Dream of Shadows

[Creator]

Damon tilted his head, walking toward Dimor as a puff of smoke shot up around the mouthless boy's body, signaling that the Damon within him had vanished. He knelt down, resting a forearm on his knee, and looked at Dimor. "Were you in a different situation, you would be called noble." A frown took over his features, and he went on. "But. As it stands now, I've made you countless offers to let you be, and you've nothing to gain from pursuing death any further. You don't even have a reason to fight me, do you?" He shook his head. "Just your own pride, forbidding you to stop. I've no doubt that that will be your undoing someday." Damon stood, a large cloud of smoke issuing up around him. When it finally faded, he was just the same as he had been. "And to think I wasted a Nine Lives Jutsu on you." His Kunai Claws began to form around his hands, and he brought them down, channeling his energy into them, where it was pushed into Dimor like a tire trying to lower its air pressure to match the air around it. He stood after giving him a significant amount of energy and began to walk away. "If you don't know how to run away, then I guess I'll just have to. But my offer still stands. If you can swallow your pride, I'll make you stronger."
And with that, he vanished into the air.

[[red].Raven]

Dimor made no attempt to speak or move until Damon was gone, still recovering from the the energy surge after being almost entirely drained; it didn't feel very pleasant at first. Very slowly, moments after the ninja vanished, the Drow got to his feet, glaring at where Damon had been seen last. He had no snide remark or snappy comeback; there was no point , anyways, for he would only be speaking with himself. The blood from his gash continued to flow freely, leaving a dark trail down the side of his paper white face. His hands remained loose at his sides, not a single muscles stirring throughout his body; even his glare was much less intense than it had been not minutes earlier. "You've drawn my blood...." Dimor's voice was unusually low toned and soft spoken, almost like a mumble. White eyes sliding shut, the Drow's head lowered and the shadows beneath him swirled and spun, thin tendrils reaching up to weave in a vortex around his body. Not moments later, Dimor had been swallowed by the darkness, off to reappear in some unsuspecting place to heal and think over recent events.