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William Woodrow

PostPosted: Mon Mar 27, 2006 10:05 am


His shoulders trembled, his hands shaking as he ducked his head down against his chest, covering his face with his mutated hand, "Left me there... Din' do it.... bu' left me there an' injected me..."
PostPosted: Mon Mar 27, 2006 10:09 am


Her jaw dropped and she stared at him in shock. Aubrey didn't even give him a chance to explain himself? Or even look closely enough at the video to tell that he was obviously not himself? First she put Jamal in a cage to humiliate him, and then she physically takes one of Billy's testicles? Suddenly, she felt sick.

Antoinette Devereux


William Woodrow

PostPosted: Mon Mar 27, 2006 1:38 pm


"GUILTY UNTILL PROVEN INNOCENT!" He suddenly shouted, the alchohol agrivating his supressed thoughts. "ThA'S how it goes here!!"
PostPosted: Mon Mar 27, 2006 2:17 pm


"Too late for that apparently," she mumbled under her breath, tails automatically bristling in alarm at the sudden shout.

Antoinette Devereux


William Woodrow

PostPosted: Mon Mar 27, 2006 2:44 pm


He drained the rest of the bottle, hurling it angrilly towards the waves and watched it hit the sand in a puff of dry debris. His constitution, loosened from the alchohol and pot slowly seemed to be crumbling. His tentacles fidgeted as he trembled, face twitching and falling as he huddled down to rest it in his mutated hands once again.
PostPosted: Mon Mar 27, 2006 2:47 pm


Antony blinked, tensing when he picked up the bottle to chuck it incase it came her way. When his body began to shake in what the tattooed woman could only guess were sobs, she sat back down, a sense of pity once again welling up inside her. "It still works?" She offered with a bit of uncertainty. After all, the squirrel girl had yet to test it out or anything.

Antoinette Devereux


William Woodrow

PostPosted: Mon Mar 27, 2006 3:27 pm


He didn't answer, lost in the deep recesses of his supressed depression as his sobs became actually audible.
PostPosted: Mon Mar 27, 2006 3:29 pm


She opened her mouth to say something else, but closed it soon after, shifting closer to him and cautiously pulling him into another hug. A crying drunk was better than a violent drunk any day.

Antoinette Devereux


William Woodrow

PostPosted: Mon Mar 27, 2006 4:10 pm


"I don' wanna' be an octopus..." He wimpered, tentacles wrapping around her as he shook his head miserably.
PostPosted: Mon Mar 27, 2006 4:18 pm


There wasn't really an answer for that statement, so she simply pulled the man closer to her, treating him like a broken little child.

Antoinette Devereux


William Woodrow

PostPosted: Mon Mar 27, 2006 4:34 pm


He fell quiet, his eyes distant as he suddenly pulled back, staring down at his tentacles, his lips pursed so tightly they were white.
PostPosted: Mon Mar 27, 2006 4:37 pm


Her eyes widened in surprise and confusion, and suddenly, she wasn't sure she wanted to be so close to him.

Antoinette Devereux


William Woodrow

PostPosted: Mon Mar 27, 2006 4:55 pm


A villain. A bad man. A coke head and a theif and a murderer. A murderer. He shivered, the alchohol swirling in his blood stream, taxing his brain chemicals. He slowly stood, eyes still locked on the wrything appendages, his shirt left on the sand.

"I'm hungry," He murmured, "Think I'll get somethin' t'eat... in th'cafeteria."

Everyone seemed to think he was the villian. Maybe he was. Maybe he was the Bad Man. If not he would be. The bad man... but he wouldn't be a freak any longer. He wouldn't. He turned without another word, stumbling over the sand.
PostPosted: Mon Mar 27, 2006 5:04 pm


"Oy," she grunted, standing up moments later with a worried frown. He was way too drunk to go back to the village unsupervised to say the least. "You're way too drunk." Understatement of the century.

Antoinette Devereux


William Woodrow

PostPosted: Mon Mar 27, 2006 5:19 pm


To the cafeteria... the b***h still had his switchblade... he wobbled, turning back to see her approaching him. His frown furthered befor he noticed the glint of glass still in the sand. He had a scar on the back of his leg, now covered in suckers left from a broken bottle in a bar fight years ago.
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