08-31-2018, 07:53 AM
Was it now a trend in Tanglewood to fall victim to crippling disfigurement? Sure as hell felt that way, not a single week went by without Mr. Hopkin’s tail falling off or some shit. Kudos to Malphas, all the labour the one medic must manage was bizarre.
A sharp tang of gore scampered through the air, with the tall, rumpled Chaser eagerly tracing it. He understood that this was not Ophelia’s blood that caught his attention - this scent’s taste was a lot stronger. A lot more urgent, as if this was a do or die situation.
He had been in a rough spot before while not paying attention - just a couple weeks back, the whole gator incident happened, with Leroy barely escaping with a broken ankle. Yet, today Delilah found herself in a stickier situation. A trap, one meant for animals, ought to be one of the remnants of Beck’s antics. The relationship he had with her wasn’t developed whatsoever; the few times any interaction transpired was with the pie, that fantastic pie, and Ophelia’s injury. Lack of any connection, however, must be put aside.
Dispatching haphazardly to the pink femme, whose cruor-stained pelt nearly shook him, attempting to feebly revive her once by her side. To jumble with the trap would only injure her more, its grip seemingly immovable. Suddenly, a burdensome brainchild grew inside of that mind of his, one so awful that it would change both Delilah’s and everyone's lives. It will work. Her leg had to go.
"Flowas, if ya are in there, I needja ta to wake up." his tone demanded, a softer voice replacing the typical rowdy one. ”Ya may not like it, butcha got a leg tha’s not gonna be attached by th’ end of tha day. I need ya p’mission ta help ya.”.
In the case of him getting no response or being denied, he’d off the limb anyway. She’d die otherwise, and that wasn’t going to be good on his résumé.
A sharp tang of gore scampered through the air, with the tall, rumpled Chaser eagerly tracing it. He understood that this was not Ophelia’s blood that caught his attention - this scent’s taste was a lot stronger. A lot more urgent, as if this was a do or die situation.
He had been in a rough spot before while not paying attention - just a couple weeks back, the whole gator incident happened, with Leroy barely escaping with a broken ankle. Yet, today Delilah found herself in a stickier situation. A trap, one meant for animals, ought to be one of the remnants of Beck’s antics. The relationship he had with her wasn’t developed whatsoever; the few times any interaction transpired was with the pie, that fantastic pie, and Ophelia’s injury. Lack of any connection, however, must be put aside.
Dispatching haphazardly to the pink femme, whose cruor-stained pelt nearly shook him, attempting to feebly revive her once by her side. To jumble with the trap would only injure her more, its grip seemingly immovable. Suddenly, a burdensome brainchild grew inside of that mind of his, one so awful that it would change both Delilah’s and everyone's lives. It will work. Her leg had to go.
"Flowas, if ya are in there, I needja ta to wake up." his tone demanded, a softer voice replacing the typical rowdy one. ”Ya may not like it, butcha got a leg tha’s not gonna be attached by th’ end of tha day. I need ya p’mission ta help ya.”.
In the case of him getting no response or being denied, he’d off the limb anyway. She’d die otherwise, and that wasn’t going to be good on his résumé.