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03-17-2016, 07:47 AM
He doesn’t truly expect the beast to give his flaming bottle of magic to a nasty old stallion like himself, but why when the dragon-bird finally chooses does he have to pick the Corporal of all candidates? Why not one of the less pompous, less irritating, less egotistic choices? Why not one of the quiet observers? Why not the antlered fellow with the lantern? Why not the altruistic Weaver? Why, why, why.
Disappointment permeates the blacks mind, no less fierce for all his pessimistic expectations. He knows just how backward and unfair the world is - he does - but something about knowing that the gods themselves had packaged this little gift and sent it down to be bestowedon a worthy soul had sparked some tiny, forgotten flicker of naivety inside him. For half a second he'd almost believed that there was justice in the world, but the world saw fit to suffocate that idea just as quickly as it had surfaced. He doesn’t know now why he'd ever allowed himself to be deceived. Stupid dumbass.
He hadn’t had an exact desire in mind for the magic either. He’d even suggested keeping the orb intact for the simple sake of looking at it while Ki’irha had specified its use to be something of value in battle (big fucking surprise, the Neanderthal wants a bigger stick to hit her enemies with). How is that ‘not fulfilling an exact desire?’ “Bullshit.” He huffs angrily, loudly, making no attempt to stifle the complaint. He can hear the others sighs of frustration and mumbled farewells to broken dreams from all around the circle. He’s not the only one feeling wrongly judged, but he’s the only one throwing an absolute bitch fit about it.
"I hope it opens a black hole inside your chest." He snarls over his shoulder, pushing his way through the dispersing crowd and away from the idiocy gathered there. "That would be an extension of your soul." Maybe that's what the joke has been all along, that she looks as dark and airless as the night sky above and the desolate heart within.
OOC // Shamelessly drinking Neo's cool-aid about not leaving a thread unfinished. @Ki'irha for obvious reasons. Pm me if you want to continue this somewhere else, otherwise we'll just continue hating each other like true Basiners. xD
Disappointment permeates the blacks mind, no less fierce for all his pessimistic expectations. He knows just how backward and unfair the world is - he does - but something about knowing that the gods themselves had packaged this little gift and sent it down to be bestowed
He hadn’t had an exact desire in mind for the magic either. He’d even suggested keeping the orb intact for the simple sake of looking at it while Ki’irha had specified its use to be something of value in battle (big fucking surprise, the Neanderthal wants a bigger stick to hit her enemies with). How is that ‘not fulfilling an exact desire?’ “Bullshit.” He huffs angrily, loudly, making no attempt to stifle the complaint. He can hear the others sighs of frustration and mumbled farewells to broken dreams from all around the circle. He’s not the only one feeling wrongly judged, but he’s the only one throwing an absolute bitch fit about it.
"I hope it opens a black hole inside your chest." He snarls over his shoulder, pushing his way through the dispersing crowd and away from the idiocy gathered there. "That would be an extension of your soul." Maybe that's what the joke has been all along, that she looks as dark and airless as the night sky above and the desolate heart within.
OOC // Shamelessly drinking Neo's cool-aid about not leaving a thread unfinished. @Ki'irha for obvious reasons. Pm me if you want to continue this somewhere else, otherwise we'll just continue hating each other like true Basiners. xD
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