if you don't terrify people a little then what's the point
They arrived, one by one by one, and he already had to roll his eyes at Aisha, snickering from the corner of his mouth, shaking his head as he continued gathering supplies, placing them where he wanted.
But he knew, just from the glimmer in her eyes and the Cheshire grin planted over her features, that Kiada would likely be some bane of his existence this evening. He wouldn’t say how much he’d missed it.
Especially since the words she spewed made his otherwise reticent features reel away in avid disgust – the appeal gone, vanquished, and fleeting. The whisper and wink only encouraged a true grimace across his face, a shudder of his shoulders in obvious revulsion. She was saved for a moment when an actual infant appeared, and he had no idea who this child was. Turning back towards her, he sneered, piercing eyes exacting an incoming punishment, a threat on his tongue. “Just for that, you get to be the babysitter for the evening.”
Then he reeled away, the smirk losing its derision and being replaced by the impassivity again as he placed more paint cans on the table, breathing away the condemnation as the youth stepped forward and addressed him as Mr. Warden, sir. This could’ve been an opportune moment for the earth to swallow him whole and he wouldn’t have minded – but it did amplify the notion of drinking even more heavily. “Deimos,” he extended back, not glowering at the stranger, but surveying, examining. “Who are you?”
Chulane was a welcome respite, and Deimos proffered a grin in his direction, presuming the other Attuned might have some semblance of sense before it all erupted into chaos. He also provided the prompt for the upcoming nuances, and the beast could slide into the itinerary for the festivities. “First step is to repair the targets. You can earn drinks depending on how well they turn out.” He handed each and every individual a bone-needle, thread, and extended his hands towards the clearly decrepit, marred, and ruined targets. There were some non-alcoholic options available on the line of refreshments, in case the youth didn’t want any (otherwise he suspected Kiada would have her hands full).
In demonstration, as he’d unfortunately sewn many a battle wound, he went towards his chosen effigy (its head had long since fallen to the wayside), placing the needle already adorned with its chosen thread into the neck, amplifying the incision, and beginning its looping process, back and forth, back and forth, in precise intervals.
--
First round: repair your target! They look very sad and beaten and pathetic. Your character will earn drinks based on how well they do (…which will be by dice roll ;D). No post order! Enjoy yourselves!
Chulane Kiada Belril Aisha
But he knew, just from the glimmer in her eyes and the Cheshire grin planted over her features, that Kiada would likely be some bane of his existence this evening. He wouldn’t say how much he’d missed it.
Especially since the words she spewed made his otherwise reticent features reel away in avid disgust – the appeal gone, vanquished, and fleeting. The whisper and wink only encouraged a true grimace across his face, a shudder of his shoulders in obvious revulsion. She was saved for a moment when an actual infant appeared, and he had no idea who this child was. Turning back towards her, he sneered, piercing eyes exacting an incoming punishment, a threat on his tongue. “Just for that, you get to be the babysitter for the evening.”
Then he reeled away, the smirk losing its derision and being replaced by the impassivity again as he placed more paint cans on the table, breathing away the condemnation as the youth stepped forward and addressed him as Mr. Warden, sir. This could’ve been an opportune moment for the earth to swallow him whole and he wouldn’t have minded – but it did amplify the notion of drinking even more heavily. “Deimos,” he extended back, not glowering at the stranger, but surveying, examining. “Who are you?”
Chulane was a welcome respite, and Deimos proffered a grin in his direction, presuming the other Attuned might have some semblance of sense before it all erupted into chaos. He also provided the prompt for the upcoming nuances, and the beast could slide into the itinerary for the festivities. “First step is to repair the targets. You can earn drinks depending on how well they turn out.” He handed each and every individual a bone-needle, thread, and extended his hands towards the clearly decrepit, marred, and ruined targets. There were some non-alcoholic options available on the line of refreshments, in case the youth didn’t want any (otherwise he suspected Kiada would have her hands full).
In demonstration, as he’d unfortunately sewn many a battle wound, he went towards his chosen effigy (its head had long since fallen to the wayside), placing the needle already adorned with its chosen thread into the neck, amplifying the incision, and beginning its looping process, back and forth, back and forth, in precise intervals.
--
First round: repair your target! They look very sad and beaten and pathetic. Your character will earn drinks based on how well they do (…which will be by dice roll ;D). No post order! Enjoy yourselves!
DEIMOS
