06-16-2018, 11:01 PM
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The coldness in his ice gave way to annoyance after his hand got removed, though he noticed Nosferatu didn't back down or defend himself further. "I could have sworn you were one of Frag's many husbands, given how alike your two souls feel. Or one of Hannibal's," he muttered, squinting in thought as he focused on Nosferatu's features. This body was so irritating when it came to reading mortals. Used to the enhanced senses of animals, only reading body language without the aid of scent just annoyed the hell out of him. From what he could tell, however, there seemed little backlash from Nosferatu, all things considered; which meant less barriers to his goal.
But all this talk of pregnancy made him hungry - reminded him of the time he ate fetuses, which reminded him that he needed food. Pork, he knew how to cook that; the previous body's owner knew many recipes for it. And he also knew it was cheaper than the protein bars, in this desolate society. He briefly wondered if that was also the cause for Nosferatu's sorrow - either the demon was hungry to the point of fatigue or remembering the past made him sad. How extremely un-demon-like, as with all the male's actions thus far. Ramsay couldn't imagine how the damned poor excuse for a demon got this way, except for the one possibility. His lips pulled into a Cheshire grin, his irritation evaporating quickly upon this most interesting revelation. "How did humanist liberal you go from mortal to demon?" Ramsay's conversational skills needed work; the flow of his mind barely made sense, nevermind the conversation topics he chose.
Again, the spark of kinship popped in his brain, much to his annoyance. He usually preferred not to think of his naive angel self, but the parallels between the past and present made the memories difficult to ignore. Discomfort, however, hardly registered to him after eons with inflicting misery in his literal job description. A demon facing his own demons, metaphorically speaking, seemed the sorriest way to spend immortality. And Ramsay just lived to have fun.
And he started to grow tired of talking to Nosferatu while his hunger pains increased all the while surrounded by food. Stepping forward, he brushed past the other demon, attempting to pull the other along with him by a controlling arm hooked around his possibly-former-adversary's waist. He was making a bee-line for the butcher, and he hated the mundane problem of getting other people to agree to simple things. "You better not be vegan, because I'm cooking pork," he stated factually, not capable of imagining a scenario in which Nosferatu refused this 'offer;' he considered himself considerate just for sharing his plans. The only thoughts going through his head now involved sorting through this host brain's recipes on pork shoulder and ribs, as well as planning the least time consuming way to increase his knowledge of the current politics and science of this world.
The coldness in his ice gave way to annoyance after his hand got removed, though he noticed Nosferatu didn't back down or defend himself further. "I could have sworn you were one of Frag's many husbands, given how alike your two souls feel. Or one of Hannibal's," he muttered, squinting in thought as he focused on Nosferatu's features. This body was so irritating when it came to reading mortals. Used to the enhanced senses of animals, only reading body language without the aid of scent just annoyed the hell out of him. From what he could tell, however, there seemed little backlash from Nosferatu, all things considered; which meant less barriers to his goal.
But all this talk of pregnancy made him hungry - reminded him of the time he ate fetuses, which reminded him that he needed food. Pork, he knew how to cook that; the previous body's owner knew many recipes for it. And he also knew it was cheaper than the protein bars, in this desolate society. He briefly wondered if that was also the cause for Nosferatu's sorrow - either the demon was hungry to the point of fatigue or remembering the past made him sad. How extremely un-demon-like, as with all the male's actions thus far. Ramsay couldn't imagine how the damned poor excuse for a demon got this way, except for the one possibility. His lips pulled into a Cheshire grin, his irritation evaporating quickly upon this most interesting revelation. "How did humanist liberal you go from mortal to demon?" Ramsay's conversational skills needed work; the flow of his mind barely made sense, nevermind the conversation topics he chose.
Again, the spark of kinship popped in his brain, much to his annoyance. He usually preferred not to think of his naive angel self, but the parallels between the past and present made the memories difficult to ignore. Discomfort, however, hardly registered to him after eons with inflicting misery in his literal job description. A demon facing his own demons, metaphorically speaking, seemed the sorriest way to spend immortality. And Ramsay just lived to have fun.
And he started to grow tired of talking to Nosferatu while his hunger pains increased all the while surrounded by food. Stepping forward, he brushed past the other demon, attempting to pull the other along with him by a controlling arm hooked around his possibly-former-adversary's waist. He was making a bee-line for the butcher, and he hated the mundane problem of getting other people to agree to simple things. "You better not be vegan, because I'm cooking pork," he stated factually, not capable of imagining a scenario in which Nosferatu refused this 'offer;' he considered himself considerate just for sharing his plans. The only thoughts going through his head now involved sorting through this host brain's recipes on pork shoulder and ribs, as well as planning the least time consuming way to increase his knowledge of the current politics and science of this world.