[Now does Achilles begin to feel the strain pulling tight his muscles, and his arm begins to yield to McCree's unbidden, as would the stone face of a sea cliff yield to the unrelenting waves degree by degree and thus its sharp edges erode. His broad chest expands with a deep breath and his bicep bulges as he counters with greater force. The hair at his temples slicks with sweat and sticks to his skin there.
(It ought to be noted to that his golden locks are arranged in a very manly array of braids, courtesy of Olivia. At least the flowers, having since wilted, were removed before this spirited contest began.)
His gaze lifts from where grapple their arms, and he is arrested by the glinting red of McCree's eye. It is this detail more so than the iron arm that strikes in him the thought that perhaps this man he faces is not fully human.]
no subject
(It ought to be noted to that his golden locks are arranged in a very manly array of braids, courtesy of Olivia. At least the flowers, having since wilted, were removed before this spirited contest began.)
His gaze lifts from where grapple their arms, and he is arrested by the glinting red of McCree's eye. It is this detail more so than the iron arm that strikes in him the thought that perhaps this man he faces is not fully human.]