07-05-2016, 10:45 AM
keep you like an oath
may nothing but death do us part
may nothing but death do us part
The lines of his lavender lips pursed as the tabiano spoke, eyeing him with the utmost unsated hunger. He was in a horrible mood (what else is new) but this sort of horrible mood was different from the others, normally he chose to be horrible. That makes all the difference you know, the choice. Clark begins telling him how he just cant fathom that fairies could be so awful, so mean. Well mister, they could. Kirin insists. The silver of his eyes become almost beady little things as the other goes on speaking and for a moment there is a glare of silver fire in them, or is there?
Of course that is when things get weird, a poof, a puff of dust or smoke or glitter. Shimmering pieces falling about and catching on the air, some sweeping up Kirin’s nostrils, others blinding him as they fall as irritants into his eyes. When they do clear he jerks, not ready to see the sight before him, the tiny little Clark flying in front of his face. It’s embarrassing really, the surprise, the thump of his heart as it rumbles in his chest then catches in his throat. The painted man’s actions enough to send him pacing back a few steps to get away from him, his transparent wings and his tiny sharp voice.
Kirin almost doesn’t hear the question, he’s too confused and startled to register what he hears enough to answer. Then another snap, maybe a poof and Clark once more changes before his eyes. A wee little man he becomes, the shape of spotted equine lost to its alienness. This is even worse, this man creature, this funny colored thing, its pelt hanging off its frame in a way Kirin found grotesque. He snaps his eyes shut in a hurry, willing it away and doesn’t watch as the horse molds itself back into its usual, everyday shape. They only open as the other shakes his head, threads of his mane flinging down his neck and he himself doesn’t seem upset by all the commotion.
However the lavender covered stallion isn't as calm, raising his wings and flapping them forward in irritance. “How could you...how dare you..what is the meaning of this…” Most of his angered prattle was lost as the spit flew from his mouth as he hurriedly strung sentences together to berate the one in front of him. This is before what really occurred to him registered. If he had thought it out first he would realize that the paint just used Magic, could easily bop him on the head, poof him into a duck or a girl or a pig. When he has his tantrum, “Shake my head you say, I ought to shake your head you weird little lump!” , he straightens, pressing his wings to his chest as if smoothing a jacket.
The apology he will take as a compliment reaches him, as does the realization of the Magic just used. His eyes widen, his ears perk forward and the corner of his lips curl upward into a smirk. “Oh, well now let us not get carried away then Clark. Come to think of it you make an excellent fairy, far better than the others I encountered.” He does his best feigned praise, smothering the paint with compliments and brushing away his own ridiculous display. “Now, tell me then, did you send them, who do they work for these fairies?”
Of course that is when things get weird, a poof, a puff of dust or smoke or glitter. Shimmering pieces falling about and catching on the air, some sweeping up Kirin’s nostrils, others blinding him as they fall as irritants into his eyes. When they do clear he jerks, not ready to see the sight before him, the tiny little Clark flying in front of his face. It’s embarrassing really, the surprise, the thump of his heart as it rumbles in his chest then catches in his throat. The painted man’s actions enough to send him pacing back a few steps to get away from him, his transparent wings and his tiny sharp voice.
Kirin almost doesn’t hear the question, he’s too confused and startled to register what he hears enough to answer. Then another snap, maybe a poof and Clark once more changes before his eyes. A wee little man he becomes, the shape of spotted equine lost to its alienness. This is even worse, this man creature, this funny colored thing, its pelt hanging off its frame in a way Kirin found grotesque. He snaps his eyes shut in a hurry, willing it away and doesn’t watch as the horse molds itself back into its usual, everyday shape. They only open as the other shakes his head, threads of his mane flinging down his neck and he himself doesn’t seem upset by all the commotion.
However the lavender covered stallion isn't as calm, raising his wings and flapping them forward in irritance. “How could you...how dare you..what is the meaning of this…” Most of his angered prattle was lost as the spit flew from his mouth as he hurriedly strung sentences together to berate the one in front of him. This is before what really occurred to him registered. If he had thought it out first he would realize that the paint just used Magic, could easily bop him on the head, poof him into a duck or a girl or a pig. When he has his tantrum, “Shake my head you say, I ought to shake your head you weird little lump!” , he straightens, pressing his wings to his chest as if smoothing a jacket.
The apology he will take as a compliment reaches him, as does the realization of the Magic just used. His eyes widen, his ears perk forward and the corner of his lips curl upward into a smirk. “Oh, well now let us not get carried away then Clark. Come to think of it you make an excellent fairy, far better than the others I encountered.” He does his best feigned praise, smothering the paint with compliments and brushing away his own ridiculous display. “Now, tell me then, did you send them, who do they work for these fairies?”
Kirin
son of khaos