05-31-2016, 03:27 PM
± when you feel my heat, look into my eyes ±
The corpse-wielder is right to know that Killdare would smell him long before the outline of his bay body was ever seen by two burning eyes. He was good to know that his Highness would sooner splatter unwanted guest with oozing flame than to ever let them approach unannounced. This is why Killdare feigns to notice the other’s approach, bending his sooty head to the ground to grab at withering shoots of yellowed grass and chewing loudly. The smell of death was not one that he could truly ignore, the aroma clawing at his nostrils as they flared into wide ovals against his long face. Death and pine and a snark, does snark have a smell? Surely if it did the scent of it would cling wholeheartedly to the bloody brown pelt of the Chambers leading Diplomat.
The season does little to hide smells anyways, everything was brittle, dry, lifeless, nothing like the cacophony of scents that would bombard him in the summer months but he had learned years ago to differentiate between them.
When the autumn air ripples and bends in front of him as he chews with a blank face, he makes no movement as Nymphetamine appears, watching him solidify without hint of amusement. Did he let him find him? Perhaps. However it was terribly hard to actually hide, it was more like he was an excellent avoider when he wanted to be, skirting off out of sight when company was unwelcome or unwanted. Today he wasn’t sure what to make of it, part of him welcomed the idle banter that Nymphetamine would provide, the other half begged him to shoo him away on some time-wasting errand. Killdare did neither to confirm nor deny those feelings, he simply gazed ahead, chewing slow and loud before swallowing his mouthful in a theatric gulp.
“And deny you your claim at finding skills?” he shrugged, rolling his great charcoal shoulders absent mindedly. “Maybe today you are just a better finder of things Nymphetamine.” It was off this, this detached way of speaking, this unpresent reaction to the world around him but everything felt gray when he did not have the company of Malis and Victra to keep the pain at bay. “How do our allies fair? How is your new underling, Arthas he is called? He’s the dappled one, wanted to join your side of things, do the speaking for our ranks.” Nothing but words, pointless it felt but he was trying his best at conversation. “How do you fare Nymph? Anything good happening in the world?” Something would need to send him from this funk but he did not know what. If he was lucky the blood at his front would having something cheerful to say.
The season does little to hide smells anyways, everything was brittle, dry, lifeless, nothing like the cacophony of scents that would bombard him in the summer months but he had learned years ago to differentiate between them.
When the autumn air ripples and bends in front of him as he chews with a blank face, he makes no movement as Nymphetamine appears, watching him solidify without hint of amusement. Did he let him find him? Perhaps. However it was terribly hard to actually hide, it was more like he was an excellent avoider when he wanted to be, skirting off out of sight when company was unwelcome or unwanted. Today he wasn’t sure what to make of it, part of him welcomed the idle banter that Nymphetamine would provide, the other half begged him to shoo him away on some time-wasting errand. Killdare did neither to confirm nor deny those feelings, he simply gazed ahead, chewing slow and loud before swallowing his mouthful in a theatric gulp.
“And deny you your claim at finding skills?” he shrugged, rolling his great charcoal shoulders absent mindedly. “Maybe today you are just a better finder of things Nymphetamine.” It was off this, this detached way of speaking, this unpresent reaction to the world around him but everything felt gray when he did not have the company of Malis and Victra to keep the pain at bay. “How do our allies fair? How is your new underling, Arthas he is called? He’s the dappled one, wanted to join your side of things, do the speaking for our ranks.” Nothing but words, pointless it felt but he was trying his best at conversation. “How do you fare Nymph? Anything good happening in the world?” Something would need to send him from this funk but he did not know what. If he was lucky the blood at his front would having something cheerful to say.
KILLDARE
magma King of the Chamber
I am sorry for this wait, i am in a funk and luckily I can play Kingdare as though he is in one too. Its crap, please respond as you will to it xD