animus_network | 04 ↔ TEXT

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[au6] grand highblood

04 ↔ TEXT

I'll be all getting my truth on about this noise.
SACRIFICING BLOOD ALL UP TO THE MOTHERFUCKING MESSIAHS IS FINE.
Real motherfucking fine.
BUT.
Motherfucking but.
IT DOESN'T MOTHERFUCKING DO NOTHING FOR ME WHEN I'M ALL FINISHED.
All work and no play all makes this brother a motherfucking bored ass troll.

Anyone wish to be all playing
A MOTHERFUCKING GAME?
>:o)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

sure

except
i dont knoww wwho am i supposed to be lookin for
or hidin from
for that matter

I am the motherfucking seeker.
BETTER START HIDING.
>;o)

One.

huh
okay

[He stares at the terminal for a moment, then shrugs. Hiding, huh. Hiding can't be that hard. It's okay if he just... goes into the corners of the library, right? ~~He sucks at this already, what a surprise.~~]

NINE.

[And he's still sitting in front of his terminal, grinning.]

[well, he's hiding. Now what?]

Eight.

SEVEN.

Edited 2012-05-02 11:18 (UTC)

Six.

FIVE.

[Bored of typing out the numbers, the highblood wanders around the various terminals in search of a hiding troll. To be perfectly honest, he has no idea where he is. It's not like he can sniff him out, especially if he isn't reeking of fear, so he just lurks around the corners, actively playing this game of hide 'n seek.]

[He's curled himself into a bookshelf in the library, near the floor and neatly tucked against the wall of books. It's a bit of an uncomfortable fit, y'know, but it only took three tries to figure out how not to make his horns scratch the bookshelf. Now he's just curled there - and he's so good at curling himself into a small thing - reading a nearby book about, of all things, cooking. Illustrated.

Human food is weird and kind of gross?!]

[Now the highblood rarely ventures into the library, though on occasion he has found himself bored enough to read through some of the books. It's always good to be informed, though he'd much rather have someone else do it for him then tell him. It just saves him the hassle, and reading small books that don't fit so well in his hands is a fucking hassle.

He shuffles past the library though, and while his first instinct would've been to just pass on by, he's playing a game here, and being thorough is all part of it.

So, sorry to interrupt your gross fascination with the culinary arts of stupid aliens but here are some heavy footsteps.]

[Eridan stills after a moment, nervous, neurotic little thing he is. He disregarded Dualscar's warning out of sheer spite, but he's still a survivor and he's still very much okay with not dying. Dying isn't all that fun, he has found.

He huddles quietly in place, unconsciously holding his breath and straining to hear.

...those are some. Pretty heavy footsteps, okay.]

Edited 2012-05-07 01:02 (UTC)

[A few shelves are jostled, then knocked over, the avalanche of books suddenly breaking through the calm of the usually quiet library. He chuckles slightly, and he sort of tromps through the isles in a somewhat hurried fashion. He doesn't wish to spend too much time looking through this maze.]

[He makes his way closer to Eridan's hiding spot, stopping here and there to peer into crevices and potential hiding spots.]

[There's a hitch of breath, a damnable hitch of breath. Eridan curls up tighter because he knows better than to run out into the open.

Fuck Dualscar.

Fuck him with a shovel.

Eridan held onto his book, keeping very, very still and wondering if he should abscond, not to a different place, but just to a different time.

Fuck.]