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 Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2008 1:35 am
The mansion had gone through a strange sort of hibernation in the months prior. The costume pieces had grown silent, even the growth and general progression of the others had as well.
But now things were starting to shake up again, and dense as he may be, Selior was starting to feel it. Dusk was high, and the third floor balcony coming off his royalty-fit room was a surprisingly easy jump from the ground floor gardens in his hairy, blood soaked wereform. The gigantic walls gave the slightest of shutters as his claws rapped around one of the rails and pillars on the balcony, and as he pulled himself over he shifted back into his human form.
He still had the blood on him, now. Some in his hair, mostly just on the right side of his face. He looked absolutely pissed to say the least, and stormed through his uproar of a beautiful disasterly room, slammed open his door and started stalking heavily down the halls, looking for one in particular. "DIARMAD!"
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Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2008 1:57 am
The prince was lounging in one of the many rooms, resting on his belly amongst a few hundred pillows. He’d just had his daily sword practice sessions, one that he hadn’t paid much attention to due to a general lethargy he’d felt during the last few months. But things were starting to stir again. At least that’s what Diarmad was suspecting. Gwydion had hinted at it the other day, with that odd twinkle in his eyes, just before the crazy old guy had disappeared.
Selior’s shout could have been heard from miles away. Diar yawned and pushed himself up onto his arms, red dragon wings stretching up behind him before folding back down against his back. Standing up, he trotted out into the hallway, finding the annoyed looking Selior before the guy could make the walls shake again.
“What is it?”
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Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2008 2:09 am
It was with quite the display of growling that Seli' sent a passing Rinter half running off and grumbling in another direction. With a quick look over his shoulder to make sure they were now quite alone, Seli glared at Diarmad, then motioned for him to follow him in to the next room in the hallway they happened in.
It ended up being an odd, dusty storage room full of old paintings that nobod had quite gone through yet.
"We have a problem." He eventually hissed, wiping the bloodied side of his face off with one arm, expertly disposing of the residue on his arm with the material of his pants. "And it sure as hell ain't gonna' go away on its own."
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Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2008 2:26 am
Diar wrinkled his nose at Seli’s messy state. But he chose not to mention the blood that his werewolf friend was currently dressed in due to the fact that Seli was most certainly not in a good mood. Stepping into the dusty old storeroom, the prince moved aside an old picture of a fruit bowl to make more room and then quite calmly turned to his companion.
“A problem?” He repeated the words, looking intrigued and slightly uncertain at the same time. “Pray tell what that problem is.” Diar as interested to see what exactly his friend considered a ‘problem’ to be, but was more than willing to help fix it. “Then we’ll get rid of it.”
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Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2008 3:01 am
He let out a huff and continued to glare, though by now if it wasn't obvious from the beginning the glaring was hardly directed at the other personally. "I don't think you were even here yet when she was, but one of the first people that got.. uh.. 'spoofed'," He waved his arms around a bit wildly trying to signify the 'poofing' appearance of the Inspired when they got released, his flailing consequently sending a small spray of blood on a once beautiful portrait of a blonde woman, "Ran away about the second she got consciousness. Who cares, right? I didn't think anything of it - other than the fact she used to have a nice rack and it was a bit of a shame that she left so early, but now shes gone an come back. All 'grown up' so to speak. Rack's gone. Nearly completely." He blinked. "Wait, now I'm getting sidetracked."
He let out another grumpy sigh and sat with a loud thud on a box that quite immediately caved in for the sheer weight of the heavy man, which of course only made the situation much worse for the werewolf's mood as he now sat in broken box and broken pottery on the floor. "And the damn witch has cursed me!"
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Posted: Sun Apr 06, 2008 1:42 am
“Cursed you?!” Diarmad looked alarmed. He leaned forward and inspected Selior, as if expecting to see the curse running across his friend’s body like some creepy insect. The subject had never really come up before, but Diar was quite superstitious; though certainly not as much as they other denizens of his desert home. His wings gave a small irritated flap before settling back down again.
“We’ll have to find this woman and make her take the curse off you.” The dragon prince was still eyeing Selior unhappily. “What sort of curse is it… do you know?”
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Posted: Wed Apr 09, 2008 3:44 pm
Some alarm presented itself on the werewolf when his companion's tone of voice seemed just as .. let's say... 'dramatic' as his own. He had, apparently, tried this entire line of proclomation on someone else only to be met with less than enthused response, and after grouping himself he looked away almost embaressed.
"It's.. uh.. well what it is exactly isn't important t'all.." He shifted a bit on the ground and stood up finally, coughing uneasily.
"And she ain't that important either. The useless woman's gonna get her head taken off by her own 'pets' and she seemed content enough livin' in the stables for now - ain't ever a better thing that belonged there if you ask me- but she's just a symptom of a greater problem, Diarmad! Do you understand what I'm saying?" He asked, lurching forward and gripping the other man's shoulders, with a sort of crazed almost bloodlust in his eyes which one might suspect happened just before he shifted into his greater monstrocity. "They are gettin' away from me!"
As the ramble went on, he seemed less and less like himself. The often unjustified arrogance or flippant dismissal of real problems Selior usually had, along with a general inability to take things seriously, had all been replaced by an almost fanatic and very, almost certainly, scared obsession. That said, the sheer look in his eyes said something very dangerous could happen soon, that would likely make Selior the one causing fear, not harboring it.
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