"We can use the power of these flames, not only the ones you unleash recklessly, we can… tip the battle in our favor, win it." Despite the melancholy and sadness in his voice, the older Kyrie can feel an undertone of pride and unyielding determination.
A battle junkie who wants to settle the score straight. 'You are my true self, huh?' Kyrie laughs, sitting on the ground beside little Kyrie. "You know, the easy answer to this is to rest, and let nature run its course. We already fought too much, didn't we?"
The young man pursed his lips, the bitter memories of everything that happened in his life surfacing, including an ending that should've been rightfully theirs, but was robbed of them by an angry furball. The sour taste left by a life of hurt and battle.
