ᴋᴏʟᴛɪʀᴀ ·sᴜɴsʜɪɴᴇ· ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜᴡᴇᴀᴠᴇʀ (
respired) wrote in
epidemiology2016-11-11 09:08 pm
cheer up, you miserable fuck
CHARACTERS: Koltira Deathweaver & Twisted Fate
DATE: Sometime after the fire
WARNINGS: nah
SUMMARY: the time has come to talk of many things
[ They don't spend every second together. Far from it, especially lately. Koltira's been so angry--at himself, at the others on the team, at just about everything possible. He's taken to walking in the desert, alone, often leaving without much notice--or any notice at all. Fate has plenty to occupy him, besides, or so Koltira believes. Cards to play. People to swindle. That sort of thing.
Even so, there's been a lot going on, and Koltira realizes that it's not exactly fair to keep literally walking away from it.
So he stands on the edge of town with Bloodmist, wearing a new coat (black, with gold trim at the lapels and tails), a new vest (burgundy), a new silk shirt (also black), and the same hat he's been wearing since he got here. Bloodmist's packs are loaded with wrapped up food--nothing for him, of course--and a few bottles of salvaged wine.
He'd asked Fate to come meet him, and when he sees the man approaching, he lifts his hand in greeting. ]
Bal'a dash. I have something to show you.
[ He pats Bloodmist's flank. She is no ethereal unicorn: the pits of her eyes are lanterns, full of the same blue lichfire as Koltira's own. Her legs burn with the same otherworldly flame, and she is armored from mane to tail. Old, blackened skulls hang in a brace around her neck, and when she whinnies at Fate's appearance, it's nothing short of a demonic wail.
But Koltira strokes her chin as fondly as if she were an ordinary pet, and Bloodmist nuzzles his hand in turn. Still, he knows how it looks, so he adds, half-smiling -- ]
Provided you can bear the transport.
DATE: Sometime after the fire
WARNINGS: nah
SUMMARY: the time has come to talk of many things
[ They don't spend every second together. Far from it, especially lately. Koltira's been so angry--at himself, at the others on the team, at just about everything possible. He's taken to walking in the desert, alone, often leaving without much notice--or any notice at all. Fate has plenty to occupy him, besides, or so Koltira believes. Cards to play. People to swindle. That sort of thing.
Even so, there's been a lot going on, and Koltira realizes that it's not exactly fair to keep literally walking away from it.
So he stands on the edge of town with Bloodmist, wearing a new coat (black, with gold trim at the lapels and tails), a new vest (burgundy), a new silk shirt (also black), and the same hat he's been wearing since he got here. Bloodmist's packs are loaded with wrapped up food--nothing for him, of course--and a few bottles of salvaged wine.
He'd asked Fate to come meet him, and when he sees the man approaching, he lifts his hand in greeting. ]
Bal'a dash. I have something to show you.
[ He pats Bloodmist's flank. She is no ethereal unicorn: the pits of her eyes are lanterns, full of the same blue lichfire as Koltira's own. Her legs burn with the same otherworldly flame, and she is armored from mane to tail. Old, blackened skulls hang in a brace around her neck, and when she whinnies at Fate's appearance, it's nothing short of a demonic wail.
But Koltira strokes her chin as fondly as if she were an ordinary pet, and Bloodmist nuzzles his hand in turn. Still, he knows how it looks, so he adds, half-smiling -- ]
Provided you can bear the transport.

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