05-19-2018, 02:21 PM
![[Image: jgC0ptA.png]](https://i.imgur.com/jgC0ptA.png)
Okay, this was getting a little... out of hand. He eyed Hazel as she approached, but was pleased to see that she didn't seem too unsettled. There was something in her aura there that seemed a little off, but over all she seemed to be approaching this situation sensibly -- unlike everyone else, thank you very much. He shot her a roguish grin in response to her question, and drawled, "You got me, princess. It's not mine." He didn't seem in the slightest bit bothered by this assertion, and for good reason. He shrugged at Luna, looking unapologetic.
Suite had already started prodding at him with her herbs, and she was going to see at about this moment that it was so difficult to trace a wound because there wasn't one. The clumped fur on his side was just that: fur clumped together so thoroughly with blood that it appeared to be hiding a wound that wasn't there. Suite was right where he wanted her, though: the polar bear was too tall to reach her normally, but leaning over him like this? Bet. Gingerly, Bastille pressed a bloody paw against her neck as she worked. "You're dead," he said, smiling like a rotten fucking imp, but his victory was short lived.
Margy took him by surprise, which was... well, sloppy, on his part. He wasn't actually injured, however, and therefore the impact was more startling than painful. "Oh," he said as he blinked up at her, and then looked a little sheepish, "I figured you'd smell the difference. Sorry, Marg -- it's just bird. I thought you didn't like bird." Well, he'd tried to offer her bird before and she'd given him an odd look, so he figured this was a safe choice of prey to use for his ploy. Maybe she couldn't actually smell the difference, only taste it? Seemed fake but okay. (Hell, it was highly possible that any blood was enough to set her off, even if she didn't like the taste of it.)
As Suite retrieved her wife, he rolled to his paws and shook himself off slightly, but the blood seemed to have dried a bit in his fur. Damn. He wasn't anticipating that, and his plan was starting to dissolve into shit pretty quickly. "She can still have my blood, anyway. I didn't think the bird blood would set her off," he said, and made a face, "Actually, I didn't expect nearly as much of a scene." Was feigning injury exactly a good way to murder his target in a game? Probably not. Was he only just now realizing the problematic factor of his plan? Yup. Did he have any form of remorse? Vaguely.
Suite had already started prodding at him with her herbs, and she was going to see at about this moment that it was so difficult to trace a wound because there wasn't one. The clumped fur on his side was just that: fur clumped together so thoroughly with blood that it appeared to be hiding a wound that wasn't there. Suite was right where he wanted her, though: the polar bear was too tall to reach her normally, but leaning over him like this? Bet. Gingerly, Bastille pressed a bloody paw against her neck as she worked. "You're dead," he said, smiling like a rotten fucking imp, but his victory was short lived.
Margy took him by surprise, which was... well, sloppy, on his part. He wasn't actually injured, however, and therefore the impact was more startling than painful. "Oh," he said as he blinked up at her, and then looked a little sheepish, "I figured you'd smell the difference. Sorry, Marg -- it's just bird. I thought you didn't like bird." Well, he'd tried to offer her bird before and she'd given him an odd look, so he figured this was a safe choice of prey to use for his ploy. Maybe she couldn't actually smell the difference, only taste it? Seemed fake but okay. (Hell, it was highly possible that any blood was enough to set her off, even if she didn't like the taste of it.)
As Suite retrieved her wife, he rolled to his paws and shook himself off slightly, but the blood seemed to have dried a bit in his fur. Damn. He wasn't anticipating that, and his plan was starting to dissolve into shit pretty quickly. "She can still have my blood, anyway. I didn't think the bird blood would set her off," he said, and made a face, "Actually, I didn't expect nearly as much of a scene." Was feigning injury exactly a good way to murder his target in a game? Probably not. Was he only just now realizing the problematic factor of his plan? Yup. Did he have any form of remorse? Vaguely.
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the ascendants — cosmic general — tags
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Honey, you're familiar, like my mirror years ago, Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword, Innocence died screaming; honey, ask me, I should know, I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door. [b][sup]▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃[/sup][/b]