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07-29-2015, 12:38 PM
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Oh, you're just a target in the sky
With all this fever in my mind
I could aim for your kerosene eyes
He sees her—gliding on a waveless, ripple-less pond, shrouded in mist; it is the serenity of her arrival that enrages him, taunts him endlessly, sends his heart careening in careless fits of red and black.
He slithers forward to the shore; the ground melts beneath him, black tar that grasps his scales and drips into nothingness below. He does not care to pay attention; it is the reality he inhabits. It simply is. He does not care for the implications.
“You’re late,” he bites, serpent’s teeth and tongue clicking in disapproval as she glides near enough for speech. Grey eyes glitter smartly with barely-veiled impatience. He wonders at her presumptuousness, her leisurely pace when she very nearly ruined the timing of such things. When one says they are to attend an appointment, they attend it—and not several minutes later than what is considered appropriate. He was not aware she was capable of such tardiness. He always thought her so punctual and put-together.
“The tea is very nearly cold,” he rasps, and the pristine china teapot balancing on his head seems to rattle and quiver with subdued rage, “When I say noon, I mean noon, not noonish.” He slithers forward, fretting over the quality of the cream, if the tower of sugar cubes still stands proud and steady inside the bowl.
“Come dock, and I’ll pour your cup,” he hisses with snakebreath, waiting for the boat to make its crawl toward the shore so that he may board—and they may start their long-awaited discussions…
(OOC note: Reginald will be a basilisk for this entire thread!)
"This is how I talk"
He slithers forward to the shore; the ground melts beneath him, black tar that grasps his scales and drips into nothingness below. He does not care to pay attention; it is the reality he inhabits. It simply is. He does not care for the implications.
“You’re late,” he bites, serpent’s teeth and tongue clicking in disapproval as she glides near enough for speech. Grey eyes glitter smartly with barely-veiled impatience. He wonders at her presumptuousness, her leisurely pace when she very nearly ruined the timing of such things. When one says they are to attend an appointment, they attend it—and not several minutes later than what is considered appropriate. He was not aware she was capable of such tardiness. He always thought her so punctual and put-together.
“The tea is very nearly cold,” he rasps, and the pristine china teapot balancing on his head seems to rattle and quiver with subdued rage, “When I say noon, I mean noon, not noonish.” He slithers forward, fretting over the quality of the cream, if the tower of sugar cubes still stands proud and steady inside the bowl.
“Come dock, and I’ll pour your cup,” he hisses with snakebreath, waiting for the boat to make its crawl toward the shore so that he may board—and they may start their long-awaited discussions…
(OOC note: Reginald will be a basilisk for this entire thread!)
"This is how I talk"
Oh, you're just a target in the sky
--Please tag REGINALD in every reply!
--All force is allowed to be used against this character!
