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[grandhighblood]

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)

Comments

[action] oh yes

[grandhighblood]

[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.]

[action] hell fucking yes

[chronomancer]

[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.]

[action] fist pumpin yes

[grandhighblood]

[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.]

[action] ...is that an euphemism.

[chronomancer]

[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.]

[action] ........n........o.................. >_>a

[grandhighblood]

[He stops dead in his tracks, the tip of his ear twitching slightly. While he may act dumb and weird, he's a keen predator, and he knows a hitching breath when he all motherfucking hears one.

At least, he's pretty sure it's a hitch. As good as he is, it's still a small noise, and it could damn well be anything. Not that he's taking any chances! Heh heh heh, he sure loves playing hide 'n seek.

His footsteps draw nearer, and stop slowly a little ways from where Eridan is holed up. Just a couple of steps. Each step becomes slower, the creak of the floorboards demonstrating the sheer weight and pressure the highblood is creating from just a step alone.]

Now where can the little motherfucker all be...? [He whispers lowly to himself, grinning widely.]

[action] /halo

[chronomancer]

[Okay. Let's take stock of the reasons why this was a dumb idea.

One, that creaking floor indicates that is one hell of a huge motherfucking thing out there. Which wouldn't be necessarily related to this current predicament except,

Two, he's looking for someone, quite possibly him, which means yes, this was a bad idea, and that unfortunately means that,

Three, Orphaner fucking Dualscar actually provided a useful warning. What the fucking fuck.

It's actually number three that makes him snarl, as quietly as possible, but still with the sound of his breath. He resolves not to die here, if at all possible. Mostly because he needs a moment to sulk properly about the implications of his goddamn Not!Ancestor being a weird idiot.]

[action] lmao /snatches

[grandhighblood]

[Are you done snarling? OK, good. Because however quiet it was, he can practically smell your scent from your breath alone. It's an exaggeration, sure, but he can differentiate a tiny sound made by a living being from a tiny sound made by non-living things.

His footsteps start up again, creaking slowly passed Eridan's hiding spot, his foot merely inches away. Slowly but surely, he passes him by without a sound or even a pause, the footsteps fading away into the next isle.]

[action] oi, I need that to cheat my way into heaven!

[chronomancer]

[He is, in fact, done snarling. In fact, he's very happy to stay quiet from now on. Though he does relax, however a little, when the footsteps fade into the next aisle. There's nothing quite like the feeling you might have possibly escaped unpleasant death. Honest.

He doesn't go out, though, even though he's so very tempted to poke his head out his little hiding place and see just what the heck he just avoided. He resists, but only barely, choking back a sigh of relief into a slightly uneven breath.]

[action] 1/? -- you're gonna need more than this here halo >:o)

[grandhighblood]

[...]

[action] 2/?

[grandhighblood]

[It's dead silent. No footsteps.]

[action] 3/?

[grandhighblood]

[You might hear a slight rustling in the distance though...]

[action] 4/?

[grandhighblood]

[Don't look outside.

Don't do it.

There's a gust of air, a breeze that shouldn't be there naturally.

You can practically smell the death and blood that highblood carries on his person, no matter how many times he cleans himself.]

[action] 5/5 done

[grandhighblood]

[And it's almost like a cannonball being shot at point blank range, but with no explosion or burst of noise to signal its coming. The noise only happens once it hits, and boy does he hit hard.

The highblood's gigantic hand tears through whatever walls are keeping Eridan hidden from him, wood and plastics splintering around his hand, wrists and arm protected by his striped leather armor. Long claws scrape at the floor, reaching up to wrap around an ankle, and a low chuckle resonates throughout the library.]

Found you, motherfucker.

[action] I laughed. IRL. I cackled. You're *good*.

[chronomancer]

[Eridan made a sound reminiscent of a dying gerbil being squeezed to said death. He curled up, throwing his arms up to cover his face from the incoming debris, then barked a hysteric laugh as he was grabbed. Teeth bared on sheer panic, sunglasses askew and heart beating ten fucking miles per hour, he was past fear and entering the vast expanse of holy fucking hell are we screwed up today or what.]

No fucking shit.

[That hand was nearly the size of his entire fucking leg, holy shit. Irrationally, he was still clutching the stupid cookbook. But he could already feel his blood pushing inside his veins, the tic-toc in the background, inviting. He waited, tense. Self-preservation versus the conditioned urge to stick around and learn as much as he could. That and he wasn't entirely sure if it'd work, while he was held.]

[action] pffffffffffffffffft shdjshds but i am so lame!!!

[grandhighblood]

[He drags the hapless troll from out under the debris, holding him upside down, as far away from him as he possibly can. Still grinning, he wrinkles his nose like he had just dragged out some disgusting dead animal from the wreckage.]

Never gonna get the mother fuck over how motherfucking unnatural it is to be all seeing a jadeblooded seascum-dweller!

[Then he gives him a rattle, laughing, looking like a cat about to play with its prey.]

[action] oh hush, you <3

[chronomancer]

[Eridan yelped a little as he was pulled out, reaching out a hand to catch his sunglasses before they fall off his face, the other still tightly clutching his cookbook. Looked mighty ridiculous, he did. But he happened to be a little too high on sheer fear to care much. He hung limply from the highblood's grip, docile in his own way, though of course... he didn't shut up. He never shut up, even when he really, really should. He also couldn't help but snort a little at the seascum-dweller comment.]

Fins don't suit me, sir, if I may say?

[He squeaked as he was rattled, letting go of the book and clutching his head instead.]

I don't suppose you'd be willing to not do that again, if I ask really, really nicely?

[His voice was a hoarse mutter, as he tried to convince his entire digestive system that just because he was upside down, it didn't mean it had to function upside down.

He was also pretty sure that throwing up all over the highblood's shoes would get him killed... faster, at least.]

[action] oh hush, you <3

[grandhighblood]

What, this?

[He shakes him again, slower this time, but in longer swings side to side. As for throwing up on his shoes, well, he's had worse on him. Tearing up monsters and getting their innards all over you for hours can really desensitize someone to stuff like that. Not like he ever needed desensitizing.

But of course, it would probably lessen his chances of survival. It's hard to say with the highblood. He can be so random at times.]

In the way things all should motherfucking BE, seadwellers were the highest of motherfucking bloods all up on the hemospectrum. But seascum are seascum, and don't tell no motherfucking body, but even Her Imperiousness ain't motherfucking untouchable.

[Then he turns back to Eridan, dropping him quite painfully onto the ground but positions himself in a way where he could easily block off his path or chase him down, should he dare try...]

Any motherfucking way, the point all is, you're all but a fucked up sad mess, is what. You would be near the fucking top on my motherfucking Cull List if a brother all had one on his person.

[action]

[chronomancer]

[Eridan made a low sound as he was shaken again. Yeah, that. He did not say, because he was busy trying to gather his wits. Trying hard not to puke is actually kind of an effort. Having puked all over one Capricorn in the tower is more than enough for him, honest.

He ends up staring up at the highblood, glasses held in one hand as he blinks at the little hemospectrum rant. Given how he doesn't know who Her Imperiousness is, there's a bit less of a sting to the whole affair. Though, for all his fumbling, Eridan recognizes the Capricorn sign.

Welp.]

...is Her Imperiousness the Empreeeeeee---

[The small question died a sudden, painful death as he was dropped. On his head. He crumpled on the ground for a moment before he reached out to feel his horns, hoping against all hope that they weren't broken.]

Ow.

[He doesn't glare. He doesn't run. He's well aware he can't. So he's going to slide his glasses back on and try to gather some aplomb out of all this panic. Not an easy task, to be honest, there's a lot of heavy dread slowly weighting down his bones like lead and no real reason to not melt into a quivering mess, except the memory of Dualscar slowly replaying in the back of his mind. Not looking forward to committing that mistake over again, no. Still rubbing at the base of one of his horns, Eridan looks up at the older troll warily.]

Fucked up sad mess sums it up pretty well, sir.