When Minds Break Together

"I'll kill that blue guy!" Jazz's sword rang free from its sheath, the blade humming with discordant energy. The air around it warped like heat off a mirage.

Misha moved with the speed of desperation, planting himself between Jazz and the stairs. His palms faced outward in a placating gesture, but his stance was ready to grapple. "Jazz—" His voice carried both warning and plea, eyebrows drawn together in tense concern.

Gesturing from his slouched position against a pillar, Killian's mouth formed a grin. He examined his nails with feigned disinterest before drawling, "If you're determined, at least kill him slowly." His eyes flicked up through dark lashes, gleaming with malicious amusement.