(One request - help me build this. Don't respond with a 'y u mad?')
Moriarty was seething with anger. This was anger in its purest form. He held back the light shiver he felt from that anger, causing all his muscles to clench as he glared dangerously at your muse.
The rapid pulse, on closer observation, was nearly visible on his temples. The sclera of his eyes turned a shade of red, and his ears and neck were also pink, from the blood rushing through them. As he gritted his teeth together, he could feel one of them become loose, and let out a long, hot breath in a feeble attempt to calm himself down.
Jim held his threatening stance. Squared shoulders, crossed arms and feet pointed directly towards your muse. His shrewed eyes pierced directly into the depth of thei soul, ripping them apart just by the intensity his gaze held.
He felt his mind swirling with chaotic thoughts, mostly destructive ones. He was brutally destroying your muse in his head, not holding back even a bit on the gore. The thoughts were so detailed that they were almost visible through his eyes. He looked terrifying. Insane.
After a long minute of pin drop silence, he was able to regulate his breathing. He then spoke, with his Irish accent thicker than usual, due to the rush of the raw emotion he felt. A very silky, but also bitter and cold voice.
"You have one sentence to save yourself."
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Actor
Random|| A C T O R || I T || S T O R Y T E L L E R || C R I M I N A L || G E N I U S || P S Y C H O P A T H || Come and play, darling. "All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players;" ~William Shakespeare. (Roleplay book)
