There was one thing that had been gnawing on me ever since I changed my address. Magic and godly energies and shit was still abundant in the atmosphere of this place, but it couldn't even begin to compare to what the Rift had been like. As a direct result, the fuel that charged my continued existence had been cut off, leaving access to only a mere trickle, a puny drip where once I'd savored flash floods and torrents of it. Where once my essence had been clearly visible, wrapped like a shadowy cloak around the pulsating orb of consciousness in the hollow of my chest, I found myself reduced to a mere fragment of my former terrifying splendor.
Now, my bones a gorgeous, that's not the issue here. It's just... well. Isn't it a bit... ya know, ridiculous about a simple pile of walking bones? No one in their right mind would ever be remotely scared of a common old skeleton, regardless of how big boned or well shaped it might be. It was the aura that mattered, the premonition of sudden and decidedly messy, impending doom that made people blanch, and I had worked so hard on building up enough bad karma to really hammer down the message.
Here, in this fucking orderly world I felt stripped down and naked, robbed as I had become of what used to be my defining character. The crimson blood that splashed across my bones didn't feel half as good as it usually did, nor did my deranged cackles have the desired effect. I detected none of the customary shock and terror, heard no terrified screams or whimpers of pleading mercy.
All I got in return was anger, and a swift kick to the shins. It was a good kick, quick and strong and fairly well aimed, and there was a horrible crunching sound as a splinter snapped off and spun away across the beach. I gazed down at the gash, and would have raised a laconic brow, if I'd had one.
How utterly boring.
It hurt of course. Whatever the magic had done to me when it stripped me of life and flesh, it hadn't completely removed my sense of pain. Horribly unfair, but there you are; it hurt, and I would have loved to make the usual hisses and curses and wrathful grimaces but what was really the point when I had neither lungs nor tongue or even ears to flatten to my elegantly domed skull? I opted for a cackle instead, my ever present grin a taunt to shove into the face of my chosen prey. Literally; I bent down and tried to gouge out one of those delightfully red orbs from the so conveniently placed head, the sound of bone grinding against bone accompanying my never ceasing stream of mad giggles when my jaw creaked opened.
Unlike my over-excitable friend, I wasn't particularly angry at all. In fact, this all was just a matter of passing time, a way to entertain myself as I waited for the end.
What better way to do that then spill blood, wreak havoc and spread mayhem. It was almost a shame I'd likely end up killing the bloke - he sure had pretty eyes.
WC: 540
PC: 2/3 + def
Summany: Stays in place, laughs as Volterra kicks him and tries to gouge out an eye with his teeth.
Note: changed the font color to #cccccc as per admin request- hope it's easier to read now.
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