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10-01-2014, 03:01 PM
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Gull
trouble with a side of wings “I only keep my eye on those I deem worthy,” she snaps, and in case you were worried before about the moment being over, her tone signals that it definitely is now. It stings a little, but the harshness is familiar, comfortable, and you retreat into your old role with relief, settling back into your brash persona much like vagrant stirs and settles himself in a threadbare coat. It doesn’t have to be this way; perhaps the vagrant could become a king in time with only some patient wielding of soft words and a little sensitivity, but you are too stupid to sense that…either that, or you are too afraid to fully realize it. Attention no longer on you, Bell turns to the egg that rests in front of her. “It is my reward. For slaying its mother,” she nearly growls, with a bloodthirstiness that startles you. If her tone wasn’t so dark, you might have laughed aloud. Slaying its mother? What beef could Bell have possibly have with an oversized bird? Had it been too noisy? Taken a dump on her head, perhaps? (Oh, heaven forbid…!) Every scenario you could possibly imagine is ridiculous, but the steel in her voice keeps you silent…for now, at least. If she wants to go around killing birds, all the more power to her, you guess. You may not have kept your amusement sufficiently in check, however, for when she speaks again, even you do not fail to catch the warning in her voice. “Like all things that try to hurt me, Gull, I strike fast and I strike hard.” What’s that supposed to mean? You frown to yourself, repeating the phrase in your head. Like all things that try to hurt me… Things that try to hurt her? Is someone trying to hurt Bell? But wait, what does that have to do with the bird? And slaying?? It doesn’t make any sense to you. Before you can voice your confusion, Bell’s bossy voice cuts through the night again. “Get some sleep,” she commands, “We’ll talk in the morning.” Though she cannot she you (or perhaps because she cannot see you), you roll your eyes at her. It’s funny how easily this girl gives orders—it’s as if she’s used to others actually listening to her. What’s funnier still, though, is that you obey. You offer a small grunt of protest, but you offer no other resistance as you settle deeper into the grass. The only sound that breaks the silence is the soft rustle of feathers as you stretch your wings—presumably to refold them. You can’t help it that a primary may brush against her barrel in the process, offering a quiet caress…all accidental, of course, should she object. @[Bellona] OOC: -coughs- "talk talk talk" |
Please do not tag Gull except for in opening posts or spars!
