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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 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.