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 Posted: Sat Apr 28, 2012 10:09 pm
It's a wonderful feeling, in the most disgusting of ways. For once, she hardly has to think. It's as if her body is moving completely in autopilot, legs moving on their own, swift as the wind that sweeps past the Alternian plains, arms raising the sawed-off shotgun that, up until recently, hadn't killed a soul. The carcass of the webbeast was no longer a vivid picture embedded in her mind like a brand mark on a hoofbeast, rather, it was faded. Faded and blurred. Most things were incredibly blurred in her mind right now, and it was a... glorious break. Thoughtlessness.
She saw the stiletto, grasped in Zeylla's hand. Eyes still contracted in that rage that gripped her so effortlessly now, having been subdued for so long now... a beast relinquished from it's hold! Free to tear and rampage and do as it pleases... but sometimes things are better left in the cage. Safer. Sometimes things belong locked up, or not, but sometimes they just work out for the greater good.
And in reality, despite her judgement telling her this was a glorious thrill, her mind, reeling, feeling so clear, it was quite the opposite. Her psyche was not clear, but clouded. Clouded with the rage and the anger and indignation. A finger gripped the trigger of her gun, the wild look is in her eyes. All it would take was a small application of pressure. A single twitch, even accidental. The gun is held up, just as hungry as the rage coursing through her veins; if she was the raw power, the gun was the maw of the beast, hungry for the satisfaction of buckshot tearing deep into the skin of it's victim.
"YEAH, I DID CHOOSE THAT!" She screams still, only a second before—
"Shoot me"
All it took was a single second before the shot rang through the air.
...
Not that it entirely mattered. The stiletto was on the ground now, and the two were locked in a struggle. She had fired too late, as it were. The gun had been disturbed prior to the fire, and the buckshot released it's rain of bullets into some other part of the abyss of the cave.
Sarcel looks shocked for a moment. The rage is gone for just that moment, and suddenly her head throbs. That was the clarity. Now her mind was clear and it hurt. She lacked in terms of body strength; she relied on her speed and her gun to kill, to harm, to finish- and now that was wrenched free from her hands and tossed onto the ground, landing with a clang before sliding on the wet rock off the cliff face.
Clarity over, anger back. She heard Sir screaming for her blood, not even yelling at this point, they were screams, hatred and bloodlust mingled together, and she was reminded of her cause. Zeylla's hand gripping her shirt, she's caught, not going anywhere. Anger? yes, but there was fear too. Fear mingled in with the indignation. It resides, but it covers quickly.
"...Y-You don't just g-give up on them w-when they don't give up on you."
It was reflex.
"Not that you'd know...!"
Still in her grasp, she snaps her hand back, balled into a weak fist. Granted, she didn't have a lot of force behind her throws, but even if it was enough to have the grayblood let go, it'd be enough to get away, rethink this through--
Or not. Rage building, forget that. This wasn't a fight she could easily win, she knew it deep down. She would try though, try as best as she could. She was going to redeem herself; standing in line to sign up for this little slice of hell, promising that she would do just that. Sir might of been the tenacious one, but Sarcel was tenacious too. Here she was, still on his side, still fighting for his cause, still fighting for that blueblood at the bottom of the cliff- the ones who's scream she could not pick out anymore- the bane of her pursuit of happiness... besides, she was the only one sticking through with him now. If not her, there'd be no one, and then what?
To her, the worse feeling in the world cold be summed up easily: Isolation.
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Posted: Sun Apr 29, 2012 9:32 am
Oooh.. he'll feel that one later fer sure... Talymn mused with a wince. Dropping his hands to his sides again, the rocker troll emitted a quiet sigh, looking bored again as the green blood carried on past towards the encampment sluggishly. The whole thing seemed a bit anti-climatic now, but at least it ended on a good note. In the sense that no lives were lost at least.
Just rest for a while, my friend
I've got my shoulder for you to lend
The road's long and there's no end
but I can see home...
"Well, that was interestin'..." He said casually, looking over to Minist with a sideways glance while pulling out a packet of granola from his survival kit. "Ya know either o' 'em?
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Posted: Sun Apr 29, 2012 1:03 pm
Minist blinked as she was addressed by Talymn. With a shrug she said, "Eh, had a run in with the blueblood before. At that big battle tournament thingy the queen set up a while back. He was trying to run off with his tail between his legs and I called him out. We had a pleasant chat and he's just the sweetest troll you could ever hope to meet." she said, rolling her eyes so hard her head moved with them. Then she put her hands on her hip and looked him in the eye. "Personally, I'd advise to give him a wide berth. He's great for a good laugh as long as you don't get too close." Her eyes slid back over to Pyre. She didn't care that he had been screaming like a maniac or was brandishing a knife like a madman as he cut himself. She just went up and popped him on the head. Now that was the kind of troll she could respect. Despite not liking being ordered around Minist decided to keep on eye on her. She was interesting to say the least.
Her musings were cut off as a shot rang out through the cavern. Jerking her head up Minist stared at the top of the waterfall. She couldn't make anyone out, but she hoped she would soon enough. "What's going on up there, I wonder?" she said more to herself than Talymn. She squinted to try and see through the misty spray of water that hung in the air, but the she couldn't make out any figures. Now it was even less likely she would leave this spot. There was a gunshot to be added to the mystery of who Semp was mad at. A fight perhaps? Had the perpetrator made a for more enemies for themselves? Or was they some beast that had been attracted by the screaming that they were fighting against? Crossing her arms the yellowblood leaned against the rock once more as she kept watch for any sign of move up top.
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Posted: Tue May 01, 2012 1:08 pm
The gunshot was like a thunderclap. It resounded deep in Zeylla's thinkpan, rattling her to the very bones. Heebie jeebies rolled up her spine and her eyes fogged ever so slightly as she clasped ever so tightly to Sarcel's shirt. The sound was painfully loud; horribly, terribly, painfully loud-- but at least it had missed her. Zeylla didn't even bother to think what would have happened if she hadn't moved fast enough. No, she didn't think about it because she was sure she would make it and she did. That was that.
The echoes of the shot and the soft ping of shots boucing off rock in the oddly silent cave(even the bluebloods inane screaming had silenced for a moment after that shot) and Zeylla found herself almost in the same state as Sarcel. Clarity rushed through her(along with the pang of guilt she felt when she realized how much she had stepped out of line in her lusus's rules) as the silences rolled through. Her eyes drifted over Sarcel, over the pain in her face and the anger, and the clearness; the fear, all the feelings boiling up behind her eyes and--
"...Y-You don't just g-give up on them w-when they don't give up on you."
Give up on her? Zeylla had never had any one to rely upon before. The greyblood had never understood other trolls need to have someone to lean on and ask for help from. Someone to believe in her beside Shrehe'sem and herself. But she could see such live, burning passion and drive behind Sarcel's eyes, a emotional wildfire; an enigma to Zeylla. Something twisted in her, like a pang of jealousy before she squashed it down and shook herself from such petty thoughts.
"I DON'T NEED TO KNOW! I don't need anyone's help, or their emotional abutment," she put as much belief behind those words as she could, because damn it all, she didn't need anyone but herself and Leechmom. No one else mattered. She didn't need that passion that Sarcel had, that eagerness to be there for another troll. She just needed herself! That was all she needed!
Maybe, if she hadn't been so shocked by the pure emotion behind Sarcel's words, and maybe if she hadn't let herself get so upset-- maybe if she hadn't agreed to do this stupid military s**t in the first place(she should have just stayed at her hive, with Leechmom...was this a test, had she failed?)-- she wouldn't have let Sarcel hit her. But the fist connected nicely with her jawline, popping it painfully as Zeylla took the blow.
She stumbled back, tugging Sarcel with her, letting go as she lost her balance on the bumpy rocks. She caught herself awkwardly near the edge of the cliff, but she didn't care about how close she was to falling off. All Zeylla could think was Am I bleeding?! But no, she pulled her hand back and saw nothing, not a single drop of blue. Thank gogs.
She raised her eyes to Sarcel then, the spot on her chin pulsing ever so slightly (she would need to use her cover up on it before it bruised visibly), before coming back full force, bringing her fist to Sarcel's solar plexus, aiming to knock the breath out of her to make it easier to get her on the ground, "Why don't you just give up? Why do you care so ******** much?," Zeylla growled as she grasped Sarcel's shirt at the spot of contact and tried to maneuver the smaller troll onto the ground with a sideways throw. See, Zeylla preferred her fights on the ground, where she could pin and choke out an opponent over punching them or stabbing them (seeing as it involved less bloodshed).
The later were to be saved for occasions where nothing else worked. But Sarcel was small, weaker. She could get her down on the ground, put her out and then maybe just disappear, hide and wait this whole thing out. She was good at hiding after all. The best, honestly.
Just had to get the little one taken care of first.
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Posted: Thu May 03, 2012 1:09 am
Alifax had been focused on getting himself out of the water. Hazzan had followed shortly after him, so he'd turned to smile at her before realizing that Frossa - well, Frossa was not there yet. Did she not know how to swim? She would've mentioned that - she was a highblood, and she lived in the Four Fronds! This was a little confusing.
After all, Frossa was probably a lot more athletic than Hazzan was. It was no fault of Hazzan's, of course, but Frossa had passed the combat course with flying colors, and Alifax thought that might have given her an edge when swimming. Had she emerged ahead of them? He scanned the crowd that had gathered at Sir's tracking device.
No. No short indigobloods to be seen. Oh god. Had she drowned? He hoped she hadn't drowned; would he be implicated in any sort of investigation? It hadn't been murder - it had been accident, really! They were friends, of course, but that word had multiple meanings, and it wasn't likely that the authorities would trust the word of a lowly redblood such as himself. Alifax berated himself mentally - he should'dve been looking out for her.
And then he turned back to the waterfall's base and saw a little form pull herself up out of the water. Oh, goodness. "Are you all right?" Alifax asked her. "I thought you'd beat me for sure; swimming was my worst class in survival. M-maybe I got a head start." He looked down at his feet - he didn't seem to know about the tentaclebeast that had lurked beneath the surface of those waters.
And then he heard raised voices, and glanced around, startled. So sudden had his panic been over Frossa that he hadn't noticed at all the commotion going on with the team of highbloods - one of whom had just appeared. How strange - he only had one horn. Alifax froze, watching in fascination. He'd never met someone around his age with only one horn before!
Or maybe, Alifax realized, that horn had been lost in the fall. The blueblood seemed awfully angry.
And yet he couldn't approach. He was frozen - he was a redblood; these weren't his affairs to meddle in. Besides, if he tried to offer some sort of medicine and failed, it'd be blamed on him. Right? Anyway, Alifax never wanted to draw attention to himself. He watched the proceedings with a shocked fascination - the one-horned blueblood was shouting at an indigoblood. How scandalous!
And then - it happened almost in slow motion. The greenblood girl who'd been traveling in the blueblood's group seemed to knock him out, and then scoop him into her arms. Another blueblood and a troll whose sign he couldn't see were fighting. He gazed around at the scene, and, decisively, chased after the greenblood who was carrying the blueblood.
Oh god. He couldn't believe he was about to do this. "Um, excuse me, highblood," he began, voice uncertain. He adjusted the little gold medicine pin on his shirt - it was by far the nicest-quality thing he wore. "Only...I've, uh, I've been trained in medicine, a little, and I'd...it might be best to check that troll over before we continue on our search. I mean. It's only a suggestion. It's your...uh..." He trailed off awkwardly.
He hoped she didn't hit him or something. She looked like she had a strong aim.
But he'd already spoken up, right? There was no rescinding the offer of a checkup now.
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Posted: Thu May 03, 2012 8:13 am
Well, that hadn't gone as well as Frossa had hoped.
Struggling and flailing to the surface of the lake below, the highblood barely managed to escape the wrath of... of something down there. Something with long, strong arms that had tugged her underwater and didn't really seem to want to let go. Frossa had fought against the tentacles viciously, unable to make out her opponent in the murky, churning water. Gnawing at the white limbs, she was surprised to draw blood hued almost identically to her own- and amidst the cloud of indigo blood and confusion Frossa managed to slip away from the creature's grasp. She coughed and gasped for breath as she hit air, looking around wildly for hard ground and signs of other trolls. To her surprise and slight humiliation there was already a sizable crowd ashore, and Alifax was already obediently calling out to her. Frossa paddled over to the nearest rock and tugged her tired body out of the water with shaking arms; but she had done it! Taking a moment to double check that the gold pin attached to her military issued jacket was still there- excellent, it was- Frossa began to make her way over to the rest of her peers. Her new fluffbeast was now perched on her head, still heaving for air; the thing was alive, but barely (Frossa seemed to heed it no mind either way).
As she approached Alifax, her first reaction was to give him a sharp, albeit not that painful, slap upside the head. "Yes, I'm alright." She spat; it was mostly true, except she was soaked and her hair was ruined and that was not okay. A few scrapes and bruises were nothing in comparison. "No thanks to you, lowblood!" Obviously bitter over the tentacle action, Frossa crossed her arms and glared up at the redblood. He was the Prince after all; he should have saved her! As her blood inferior, he should have been putting his life on the line for her anyways. Frossa let out a frustrated sigh and wrung out her hair. Normally she would have gone on that yes, Alifax most definitively had a head start. Maybe throw in something about her falling slower because she was smaller- that made sense, right? But she seemed to be in a rather poor mood still, despite Alifax's lowblood humblings.
That was, until Alifax wandered away from her a few strides and spoke up to an all too familiar greenblood. Frossa had been far too involved primping herself and wringing out her dripping clothes to notice what was going on with anyone else until that moment. She seemed genuinely taken aback for a split second as she looked up at Pyre cradling the wounded blueblood- who Frossa recognized immediately as the victor of their Battle Royale match, Sempur Livora. He was currently a bloody, one horned, unconscious mess. "Uwahahahahaah!" The highblood burst out into maniacal laughter, own pains forgotten at the expense of Sempur's. Tears formed at the corners of her sunken in eyes as she giggled at Sempur's misfortune, too occupied to even address Pyre. As soon as she was finished laughing at the blueblood, however, Frossa's first thought was to greet the greenblood. No reason to be rude...!
"H-hello again, Pyruet Tropos!" Frossa struggled to hold back more giggles, still recovering from the humor of it all. "I do hope that your journey here wasn't too much trouble." She glanced down at Semp once more, grinning cheek-to-cheek with her sharp teeth. Slamming an open palm onto Alifax's back she gripped her lowblood's shoulder protectively. "He isn't bothering you, is he?" Frossa glanced down at Alifax's gold pin for medicine, well aware of his offer of services. Frossa wanted to give him a good rap upside the head and bark that he should only use his skill for Team FFF- but Hazzan wasn't there to give her (usually definitive) opinion and Sempur was at least a highblood. Besides, showing off to Pyre wasn't so bad. Puffing out her mediocre chest in a vain attempt to show off her own gold pin, Frossa gleamed up at the greenblood. She had missed most of Team Bad End's drama, thanks to her little tentacle fiasco. "So what happened here, hmmm?"
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Posted: Mon May 07, 2012 7:26 pm
Thunder.
Thunder always followed one thing; lightning. The force of electricity breaking the barrier, there's a loud clap... Lighting was fast, quick, blinding, and some whom took to speed and running and all and everything it entails... they remained fast as the dreams and unreachable goals they dreamed off.
Sarcel was no exception.
It was an unreal feeling- her fist connecting with the offenders cheek. Little Sarcel, the girl afraid of everything, the girl who was branded a coward, a coward whose name was deplorable, a tragedy that was not so tragic at all, but rather a misfortune. Often over looked, understated... but this was her moment. For once the lighting struck- it's a rare concept, for lighting seldom strikes so close- but when it does grace viewers with it's presence, it's anything but pleasant. It's fictitious. It burns, if not from the searing heat, then in scorching indignation.
And rarely, as the lighting strikes, does the blueblood throw a punch. It's flimsy- she's not very strong or able, but makes up in her shortcomings with her immense amount of effort- so rather then a dangerous blow, it turns more into something akin to a vicious statement. A proclamation; the tiny structured girl was daring a challenge, issuing a warning-- and upholding it. Sempur's screaming and threatening and bloodthirsty howls were nonexistent now, like ceasefire on the battlefield.
Adrenaline worked in strange ways, the blueblood girl was beginning to figure out. Fuel for running, but also fuel for desire. Cloud nine doesn't seem like a far off paradise suddenly, although it's not happiness she's relishing in, but satisfaction. For once, Sarcel Goddamn Cincil feels pride, and for once, she accepts it. Everything seems deluded-- everything but herself and the target, and even then her very being seems like a far away callback. Maybe it was-- maybe Sarcel was still standing dumbfounded on the cliff edge, scuttling down, worried and taken aback but this could be construed as a different troll entirely.
It doesn't last long, false realities never did. Zeylla said something-- said she didn't need anyone's help, didn't need their emotional abutment. The grayblood still has a hold on her filthy shirt, and she gets dragged for a bit until there's a sudden lack of weight pulling her over. Didn't need anyone's help? Be that as it may...
Sarcel thrived on it.
The very idea of being relied upon, of relying on others. It was beginning to make sense now, click together, fall together, jigsaw pieces that construct a puzzle that cannot exist without each other. Perhaps in Sir's eyes, he did still look at her with scorn and disgust and disappointment... But all she had to give in return was some sick admiration. Whether she liked it or not- although it was more than likely the former- she had some high amount of trust in her 'Commanding Officer'. There was some sense of companionship there-- would she dare to say friend- although it wasn't anything close. Comrades was a much better term.
Absentminded thoughts, tsk tsk Sarce.
The punch to her abdomen was like a freight train ramming into her rib cage. Everything contracted, her lungs clenched and any air left in there was instantly hacked out. The pain was inconceivable-- and what followed made it even worse.
She couldn't breath. It was an awful feeling-- the choke, the sputter- inhalation and yet nothing becomes of it. The adrenaline kicks into overdrive, but this time, it's mingled with another familiar emotion.
Fear.
The raw frenzy behind the fear and adrenaline is overpowering to the little one. Zeylla grabs her shirt again, tries to force her on the ground- another question poised, why do you care so much?- yet she cannot answer. No matter how hard she tries, no words come out, just the sputter, just the black rings around her vision threatening to cloud over. The rocks are slippery- she's without a weapon- she's running out of idea's fast. Fighting back wouldn't do anything, she wouldn't win. It was a lose-lose situation. Time to throw in the towel Sarcel. Why do you care so ******** much?
It's so easy to give in-- she was so tired.
But what about before? That resolve? That willpower? The blueblood can't breath still- it's only been seconds, but it feels like an eternity- but the hysteria overcomes her. It's a last ditch effort, but it's the only one she has left---!
Heaving all of her remaining strength into one final push- Zeylla grasping her shirt, she grabs onto her with as much force as she can- before mustering all remaining knocked out energy to throw them both off of the side of the cliff into a daring free-fall.
Oh, how gratifying it is when desperation pushes the weak to it's limits-- making the fragile feel like superheros, making the frail feel like rulers.
Making the worthless feel useful, and the pathetic worthwhile.
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Posted: Tue May 08, 2012 12:59 pm
So much will, so much want to survive. Zeylla could taste it in the air around Sarcel, feel it pulsing like a living thing infecting the space around them. Zeylla knew the feeling all to well- the craving, wanting urge to live another day. Sarcel, small and weaker and easily coerced, refusing to give up. She saw power in those eyes just before her fist connected with the girl's stomach.
It was like a switch flips off in her opponents brain.
Sarcel was limp against her for a moment. Like a lifeless doll clasped tightly in her hands. Zeylla felt her willpower failing, felt the little blueblood giving up. It was the most powerful feeling in the world, the feeling of winning and surpassing others. The greyblood soaked it in like the sweet moonlight, basking in it's glory. But beneath the pride of her evident conquest, there was a bitter disappointment. She saw, just seconds ago, the drive in the bluebloods eyes that was so similar to her own moxie. But now it was gone. Only gasping, choking, quaking Sarcel was left; tasting like fear as her heart started pounding faster and faster. It's so loud Zeylla was sure everyone can hear it. Her question is left unanswered as Sarcel sputters and heaves for air, and the greyblood assumedit's over.
Part of her wished it wasn't. She wanted to see that fire in Sarcel's eyes again, the eagerness to prove herself and that need to persevere. But there was only this shaking ragdoll now, and she went to toss her down onto the rocks, considered leaving her there to shake and shiver- figuring there was no more threat left in her adversary. The waterfall wasroaring in the background and she looked into the bluebloods eyes one last time, expecting to see reluctant defeat.
Instead, there was a frenzy of emotion. A volital explosion, and before she could let go; gett away, Sarcel was on her. She's grasped back, and using all her energy to push Zeylla back. The greyblood knew what was happening even before they fell. She saw the determination in the little one's eyes. The power had returned to her, she had pushed through her fear, fought through her abdication and now she was making her final stand.
And what a stand it was. Zeylla felt the world turn as they tumbled off the cliff. She clasped tightly to Sarcel's shirt, holding onto her (she was not going down alone, gogdamn it) as freefall clenched her guts tight in it's terrible, euphoric grasp. There was still fire in those eyes as they fell, and she found herself feeling less angry and more and more....respectful? She found herself revering the little one's determination- it reminded Zeylla of herself in a way, and she couldn't help but tip her proverbial hat in Sarcel's direction.
The fall seemed to last for forever, and luckily they missed the jutting rocks on the cliffside as Sarcel's strength had pushed them farther out, and now the little one was on top riding her down and down towards the river below. Zeylla knew she needed to move, to make Sarcel take the impact but the water was getting closer, closer closerclose--
It felt like hitting dry land, her back breaking the waters surface with a brutal smack. Zeylla couldn't help but gasp for air as they landed, and inhaled water for her efforts. She lost her grip on the blueblood as the water ripped them apart like a protective lusus stepping in to stop a fight, and she tumbled and rolled along until finally her head broke the water.
The boulders on the rivers edge were slippery with caveslime, but Zeylla managed to struggle out of the current and throw herself onto the dry ground, coughing and hacking and shaking as her muscles began to demand rest. But there wouldn't be rest until she was safely tucked away from the others. The greyblood looked about, making note of the groups around her. Sempur seemed to be gone now, but there were other trolls staring at her or the river where Sarcel was still submerged. Zeylla felt herself feeling torn between hoping the girl survived and didn't. She was both wounded in pride and yet proud of their quarrel as she stumbled past the crowd and towards the little tents she had seen from the clifftop, hoping to find some dark corner to hide in and relax safely. She was not eager for any more fighting just now, not with Sempur and not with Sarcel. She was tired and she had acted foolishly, and she needed time to clear her mind(thankfully the water had already cooled her temper).
It had been a wild ride through these caverns, and her scuffle had been slightly embarassing, but if they ever fought again, Zeylla would not forget that passion Sarcel had. No, next time she would be ready for it. And how she did hope there was a next time.
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Posted: Tue May 08, 2012 2:32 pm
The splash was quite large. Minist anxiously watched the waters to watch the two bodies emerge. She hadn't been expecting to see anyone falling from the cliff, let alone two someones! That must have been some fight they were having up there! What an exciting surprise to watch a smaller troll push another over the edge and the two of them tumble into the water. Lucky they missed the rocks. Minist absentmindedly rubbed her arm which bore scratches caused by her own (admittedly shorter) fall from the cliffs as she waited for someone to emerge. Then she spied a pair of rather odd looking horns shortly followed by a troll, looking tired and utterly soaked.
Though she wanted to start bombarding the stranger with questions about the fight Minist decided to stay quiet, at least until their adversary also dragged themselves out of the water. Who knew, they might just start fighting again and who was she to throw off their groove by being nosy. If they were calling it quits now then she might follow one of them and bug them later. As it were she silently looked over the wet troll with gleaming eyes, sizing her up and making her own guesses as to what happened as she also kept an eye out of the other troll.
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Posted: Tue May 08, 2012 11:24 pm
Pyruet had continued her troop towards the green light, unaware that the redblood's call was meant for her until she heard his voice drawing closer, and talking about looking someone over. "Did you just call me 'highblood'?" She stopped in her tracks, and turned to face Alifax, Sempur's body obstructing her view of anything that wasn't pretty straight in front of her. "...Don't do that. I'm not defined by what I bleed." Her jaw was set, eyebrows lowered. "Have some self-respect." Her eyes shifted towards Sempur. "He'll be fine. Probably. I don't really care too much one way or the other, but uh, you can look him over if you want, I guess."
A high-pitched, very girlish cackle erupting nearby dragged her focus away from the redblood. "Miss Frossa Fyrste." She nodded a greeting at the purpleblood. "Trouble? What would make you say that?" Her expression was utterly deadpan as Sempur's slashed arm slowly stained the front of her shirt blue. It was tough to tell whether she was being catty or just making light of the situation. "Hrm, I wouldn't really call it bothering, but--..." She cut herself off, not sure what the rest of that sentence was supposed to be. It wasn't a bother at all, she just wasn't in the mood to deal with...anyone, not now. Even those generously offering services they probably needed.
Expression still blank, Pyre's eyes rolled backwards slightly, like she was making an effort to remember. "I'd say the best way to describe it is our team all wanted to kill each other, so we all decided to kill each other." She nodded slowly, chewing her lip for a moment. "And then he," She jerked her shoulder for emphasis, causing the blueblood's head to loll. "...very nearly killed himself and then everyone else, so I put him out of commission until he calms down." As if on cue, an enormous splash erupted from near the waterfall. "Hrm." Looking completely uninterested, she stared at the point of impact. "That might be the rest of us now, actually." And back to Frossa, head slightly cocked. "What about you guys, what's your story?" She assumed the two were a team, anyway, though she wasn't sure why the rather snooty girl would voluntarily join up with a redblood, hardly seemed her style.
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Posted: Fri May 11, 2012 2:21 pm
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