| Both sides previous revisionPrevious revisionNext revision | Previous revision |
| plot:reshigah:2013-02-17-2 [2013/02/23 03:33] – Today pinkgothic | plot:reshigah:2013-02-17-2 [2024/07/27 13:52] (current) – external edit 127.0.0.1 |
|---|
| The map in his left hand flutters dangerously for a moment, flapping loudly in protest at the tug of another gale, then settles in innocent denial of any prior issue in his hand. The gym, it says, is just at the top of the slope, inside the mountain. Inside the mountain. Why the hell not, right? It's not any odder than the setup of [[place:Pyu Ivvi]] or [[place:Nahla City]]. | The map in his left hand flutters dangerously for a moment, flapping loudly in protest at the tug of another gale, then settles in innocent denial of any prior issue in his hand. The gym, it says, is just at the top of the slope, inside the mountain. Inside the mountain. Why the hell not, right? It's not any odder than the setup of [[place:Pyu Ivvi]] or [[place:Nahla City]]. |
| |
| <fc #008888>Mew lets out a somewhat louder purr as Terry's fingertips brush against the lump of fabric she's most recently claimed as her perch, and a hint of motion tickles against his chest as she twists slightly - perhaps waking up from her doze, if that's indeed what she was doing. For a few moments, that's the only sign of consciousness from the tiny creature, before there's another bout of motion and a small, pink feline head pops tentatively up from his neckline. She squints, scrunching up her face in the wind, ears flattening against her skull - and then the wind dies down once more, and she's surveying the area ahead.</fc> | <color #008888>Mew lets out a somewhat louder purr as Terry's fingertips brush against the lump of fabric she's most recently claimed as her perch, and a hint of motion tickles against his chest as she twists slightly - perhaps waking up from her doze, if that's indeed what she was doing. For a few moments, that's the only sign of consciousness from the tiny creature, before there's another bout of motion and a small, pink feline head pops tentatively up from his neckline. She squints, scrunching up her face in the wind, ears flattening against her skull - and then the wind dies down once more, and she's surveying the area ahead.</color> |
| |
| <fc #008888>Ooh! They're almost there! A loud purring sound emanates from the psychic pokémon, vibrating against Terry's chest. Time to visit her new favorite human. Her tail twitches erratically, curling and uncurling on itself, and she briefly nuzzles Terry's neck before retreating back into the warmth of his shirt, curling into a small ball and purring incessantly.</fc> | <color #008888>Ooh! They're almost there! A loud purring sound emanates from the psychic pokémon, vibrating against Terry's chest. Time to visit her new favorite human. Her tail twitches erratically, curling and uncurling on itself, and she briefly nuzzles Terry's neck before retreating back into the warmth of his shirt, curling into a small ball and purring incessantly.</color> |
| |
| Having a vaguely feline creature curling against his skin is strange - he's never had a pet - but a part of him finds oddly soothing. This is, if he's not entirely losing his marbels, his last stop on this particular trip, and the notion that he's not entirely alone for it is pleasant. One thing is certain: A human travel companion wouldn't have this subtly pleasant side-effect. | Having a vaguely feline creature curling against his skin is strange - he's never had a pet - but a part of him finds oddly soothing. This is, if he's not entirely losing his marbles, his last stop on this particular trip, and the notion that he's not entirely alone for it is pleasant. One thing is certain: A human travel companion wouldn't have this subtly pleasant side-effect. |
| |
| There is no door on the corridor carved into the rock of the slope - it's just a dark splotch amongst the landscape that might pass as some boulder's shadow, were it not directly at the end of Kzye's main road. There's a lone house up here, too, but despite the shadow of the mountain currently eclipsing it, there's no light on inside, suggesting that its inhabitant - almost without a doubt the gym leader - is not currently within it. | There is no door on the corridor carved into the rock of the slope - it's just a dark splotch amongst the landscape that might pass as some boulder's shadow, were it not directly at the end of Kzye's main road. There's a lone house up here, too, but despite the shadow of the mountain currently eclipsing it, there's no light on inside, suggesting that its inhabitant - almost without a doubt the gym leader - is not currently within it. |
| Keith Sirius, meanwhile, is an anticlimactic footnote to the hellish landscape, broom in hand, a [[pokémon:Keith's Raichu|Raichu]] literally sitting on his head, tail swaying lazily behind him like a stylised, alien ponytail, the human sweeping this side of the unusual playing field, whistling an oblivious tune with utter disregard for a coherent melody. | Keith Sirius, meanwhile, is an anticlimactic footnote to the hellish landscape, broom in hand, a [[pokémon:Keith's Raichu|Raichu]] literally sitting on his head, tail swaying lazily behind him like a stylised, alien ponytail, the human sweeping this side of the unusual playing field, whistling an oblivious tune with utter disregard for a coherent melody. |
| |
| <fc #008888>Once they're inside the tunnels and out of the wind, Mew clambers her way out of Terry's shirt, instead perching on his shoulder, leaning gently against the side of his head, tail curled around his shoulder, occasionally flexing in a light, impatient squeeze as they travel. About halfway down the path, she starts getting antsy and climbs onto his head instead, running her paws through his short hair, tail brushing along the back of his neck. Come on. It's not too far now. Just a few more turns and then...</fc> | <color #008888>Once they're inside the tunnels and out of the wind, Mew clambers her way out of Terry's shirt, instead perching on his shoulder, leaning gently against the side of his head, tail curled around his shoulder, occasionally flexing in a light, impatient squeeze as they travel. About halfway down the path, she starts getting antsy and climbs onto his head instead, running her paws through his short hair, tail brushing along the back of his neck. Come on. It's not too far now. Just a few more turns and then...</color> |
| |
| <fc #008888>Ahh, there he is. Mew makes a loud purring sound, and then in a burst of motion hops off Terry's head, flinging herself through the air, tackling Keith's arm. "Mew mew mew mew mew!" she greets excitedly, scurrying around the gymleader's chest to perch on his shoulder, nuzzling his cheek, for the moment ignoring the Raichu on his head. Look Keith! I found us a present!</fc> | <color #008888>Ahh, there he is. Mew makes a loud purring sound, and then in a burst of motion hops off Terry's head, flinging herself through the air, tackling Keith's arm. "Mew mew mew mew mew!" she greets excitedly, scurrying around the gymleader's chest to perch on his shoulder, nuzzling his cheek, for the moment ignoring the Raichu on his head. Look Keith! I found us a present!</color> |
| |
| Terry, unfortunately, misinterprets the pokémon's enthusiasm entirely. His travel companion's a friend of this man - clearly he can't be that bad if a pokémon is quite this happy to see him. Terry's nervousness dissipates slightly, his left hand rising to scratch at the back of his neck. | Terry, unfortunately, misinterprets the pokémon's enthusiasm entirely. His travel companion's a friend of this man - clearly he can't be that bad if a pokémon is quite this happy to see him. Terry's nervousness dissipates slightly, his left hand rising to scratch at the back of his neck. |
| "Oh!" Keith regards the hand with a perplexed expression, not quite sure which of his two hands to reassign to the task, left still quite happy to pet his psychic visitor, right still holding his household implement. For a moment, he presses his lips to a thin line across the tip of his tongue, then throws a glance to the broom. His hand shifts its grip into one with two fingers, then tips the broom over theatrically - it clonks to the ground as it's discarded, and his right hand instead enthusiastically closes around Terry's proffered one. "[[character:Jagdish Tsukinaka|Jagdish]] said you were coming," he comments with a tone of delight. "You're the aspiring gym leader, is that right?" | "Oh!" Keith regards the hand with a perplexed expression, not quite sure which of his two hands to reassign to the task, left still quite happy to pet his psychic visitor, right still holding his household implement. For a moment, he presses his lips to a thin line across the tip of his tongue, then throws a glance to the broom. His hand shifts its grip into one with two fingers, then tips the broom over theatrically - it clonks to the ground as it's discarded, and his right hand instead enthusiastically closes around Terry's proffered one. "[[character:Jagdish Tsukinaka|Jagdish]] said you were coming," he comments with a tone of delight. "You're the aspiring gym leader, is that right?" |
| |
| <fc #008888>Mew's tail curls happily around the gymleader's neck, positively beaming at Keith. A soft, adorable "Mew" spills from her at Keith's remark about the visitor, coupled with a knowing, mischievous smile. At least she can always count on Keith for a good time. Her head shifts lightly under his hand, and her paws wrap around his wrist, tongue darting out and playfully licking at his palm.</fc> | <color #008888>Mew's tail curls happily around the gymleader's neck, positively beaming at Keith. A soft, adorable "Mew" spills from her at Keith's remark about the visitor, coupled with a knowing, mischievous smile. At least she can always count on Keith for a good time. Her head shifts lightly under his hand, and her paws wrap around his wrist, tongue darting out and playfully licking at his palm.</color> |
| |
| Terry nods in acknowledgement. "You're my last stop, if you'll pardon my vernacular," he informs Keith, ever so slight nervous tinge still inherent to his tone. Gym leaders, for the time being, are still authority figures, regardless what Jagdish might have done to take a chunk out of the view he'd grown up with, and it's difficult not to feel like he's imposing at least a little. | Terry nods in acknowledgement. "You're my last stop, if you'll pardon my vernacular," he informs Keith, ever so slight nervous tinge still inherent to his tone. Gym leaders, for the time being, are still authority figures, regardless what Jagdish might have done to take a chunk out of the view he'd grown up with, and it's difficult not to feel like he's imposing at least a little. |
| "Mister Kiran," Keith addresses Terry a moment later, letting his attention find his visitor again. Terry interrupts cautiously to offer: "'Terry', please." Keith closes his eyes briefly, nodding half in dismissal, half in acknowledgement, smile not waning in the least. "Terry," he echoes. "I do enjoy this place for the unique scenery, but it's hardly a comfortable place to have a conversation or much of anything else." A pause, free hand gesturing to the corridor. "Would you mind? I practically live around the corner, it's not far, I assure you." | "Mister Kiran," Keith addresses Terry a moment later, letting his attention find his visitor again. Terry interrupts cautiously to offer: "'Terry', please." Keith closes his eyes briefly, nodding half in dismissal, half in acknowledgement, smile not waning in the least. "Terry," he echoes. "I do enjoy this place for the unique scenery, but it's hardly a comfortable place to have a conversation or much of anything else." A pause, free hand gesturing to the corridor. "Would you mind? I practically live around the corner, it's not far, I assure you." |
| |
| "Sure," Terry comments, minimalistically, watching Mew's antics against the gym leader's shoulder and hand, a little perplexed by the degree of friendship between this superficially unrelated characters. A fresh smile creeps onto his face. | "Sure," Terry comments, minimalistically, watching Mew's antics against the gym leader's shoulder and hand, a little perplexed by the degree of friendship between these superficially unrelated characters. A fresh smile creeps onto his face. |
| |
| "Splendid," Keith announces, own demeanour practically glowing. With a bright expression, he extends his free hand to pat at Terry's back between his shoulderblades as he might an old friend. | "Splendid," Keith announces, own demeanour practically glowing. With a bright expression, he extends his free hand to pat at Terry's back between his shoulderblades as he might an old friend. |
| "Mew," Keith addresses the psychic pokémon. "Do we let him do that? Just water? Or is that breaking some unspoken social protocol? What do you say?" His voice is thickly lathered with a humourous tone. | "Mew," Keith addresses the psychic pokémon. "Do we let him do that? Just water? Or is that breaking some unspoken social protocol? What do you say?" His voice is thickly lathered with a humourous tone. |
| |
| <fc #008888>The walk back up the tunnel to Keith's abode is thankfully a little less mind-numbingly boring than the walk down was - at least this time there's some conversation going on, and they're moving a bit faster, and now she has so much more to look //forward// to when they reach the top. She drapes herself across the back of Keith's neck, long tail hanging down his chest, tip twitching and curling on occasion.</fc> | <color #008888>The walk back up the tunnel to Keith's abode is thankfully a little less mind-numbingly boring than the walk down was - at least this time there's some conversation going on, and they're moving a bit faster, and now she has so much more to look //forward// to when they reach the top. She drapes herself across the back of Keith's neck, long tail hanging down his chest, tip twitching and curling on occasion.</color> |
| |
| <fc #008888>She perks up a bit when they reach the house, scurrying over to Keith's left shoulder, tail half-wrapping around his arm as she starts floating in mid-air, paws curled up against her body. Her ears perk up at the mention of her name, and she has to fight the urge to grin widely at Keith's question. Instead, she puts on a ridiculously serious expression and shakes her head slowly. "Mew mew mew mewwww," she intones in a low pitch.</fc> | <color #008888>She perks up a bit when they reach the house, scurrying over to Keith's left shoulder, tail half-wrapping around his arm as she starts floating in mid-air, paws curled up against her body. Her ears perk up at the mention of her name, and she has to fight the urge to grin widely at Keith's question. Instead, she puts on a ridiculously serious expression and shakes her head slowly. "Mew mew mew mewwww," she intones in a low pitch.</color> |
| |
| Keith shoots a fake glare at Mew as if daring to question why she would make poor Terry's life this difficult, but the effect is smothered by the overwhelming fondness he feels for her. His right hand brings two fingers around to touch in absent-minded hint of a caress against the curve of her tail and he brings his attention around to Terry, cautiously entering the abode as he is. "I'm afraid your choice does not pass Mew muster," he informs with exaggerated gravity. "You're going to have to pick something else." | Keith shoots a fake glare at Mew as if daring to question why she would make poor Terry's life this difficult, but the effect is smothered by the overwhelming fondness he feels for her. His right hand brings two fingers around to touch in absent-minded hint of a caress against the curve of her tail and he brings his attention around to Terry, cautiously entering the abode as he is. "I'm afraid your choice does not pass Mew muster," he informs with exaggerated gravity. "You're going to have to pick something else." |
| Keith's slid into his home, gestured to the couch a way's in as a reminder of his earlier prompt for his guest to make himself comfortable, and closed the door by the time the question surfaces. There's a pregnant pause as Keith regards Mew for a moment, drumming index and middle finger of his right hand lightly and soundlessly against the palm of his left hand, looking part pained, part contemplative. | Keith's slid into his home, gestured to the couch a way's in as a reminder of his earlier prompt for his guest to make himself comfortable, and closed the door by the time the question surfaces. There's a pregnant pause as Keith regards Mew for a moment, drumming index and middle finger of his right hand lightly and soundlessly against the palm of his left hand, looking part pained, part contemplative. |
| |
| <fc #008888>Mew blinks, and tilts her head slightly in curiosity. Is he... giving her the opportunity to do the honors herself? The possibility's certainly interesting, isn't it? After a long moment of tense contemplation, she nudges her nose against Keith's hand. No, she thinks she'd rather let him do it. It's his game, after all, she merely wishes to watch it all unfold. A moment later, she's unwound her tail from Keith's arm and is drifting over towards Terry, touching down on his shoulder and leaning against his cheek, purring incessantly. She can stay here and make sure he doesn't run off. Not that he's likely to, the poor, misunderstanding fool.</fc> | <color #008888>Mew blinks, and tilts her head slightly in curiosity. Is he... giving her the opportunity to do the honors herself? The possibility's certainly interesting, isn't it? After a long moment of tense contemplation, she nudges her nose against Keith's hand. No, she thinks she'd rather let him do it. It's his game, after all, she merely wishes to watch it all unfold. A moment later, she's unwound her tail from Keith's arm and is drifting over towards Terry, touching down on his shoulder and leaning against his cheek, purring incessantly. She can stay here and make sure he doesn't run off. Not that he's likely to, the poor, misunderstanding fool.</color> |
| |
| "Well," Keith remarks, as if there hadn't been a pause to their conversation at all, casually intoning his words: "We have grapefruit juice, lychee juice, cranberry juice, and of course the timeless classics that are apple and orange juice. I can probably also find a tea somewhere in the depths of my kitchen, but I may not necessarily resurface from that particular quest into the unknown." He nods a little at the end of the reel, smiling at Terry. | "Well," Keith remarks, as if there hadn't been a pause to their conversation at all, casually intoning his words: "We have grapefruit juice, lychee juice, cranberry juice, and of course the timeless classics that are apple and orange juice. I can probably also find a tea somewhere in the depths of my kitchen, but I may not necessarily resurface from that particular quest into the unknown." He nods a little at the end of the reel, smiling at Terry. |
| Terry stares at his host, evidently beginning to question the man's sanity a little, if unfortunately not on the right track. With a lightly bemused expression, he tries to twist his gaze around to look at the psychic pokémon nuzzling his cheek and brings up one hand to stroke a few fingers gently across her head. A moment later he's finally seen himself into a sit at one end of the couch, practically balancing on the edge, and is glancing back at Keith with some indecision. Beer is not in the list, or he'd pick that. "Oh what the hell," he exhales the phrase. "I've never had lychee, might as well try that." A pause, glancing at Mew as best he can. "That all right with you?" | Terry stares at his host, evidently beginning to question the man's sanity a little, if unfortunately not on the right track. With a lightly bemused expression, he tries to twist his gaze around to look at the psychic pokémon nuzzling his cheek and brings up one hand to stroke a few fingers gently across her head. A moment later he's finally seen himself into a sit at one end of the couch, practically balancing on the edge, and is glancing back at Keith with some indecision. Beer is not in the list, or he'd pick that. "Oh what the hell," he exhales the phrase. "I've never had lychee, might as well try that." A pause, glancing at Mew as best he can. "That all right with you?" |
| |
| <fc #008888>Mew's purring grows substantially louder for a moment, then she's clambering atop Terry's head, paws running through his short hair, idly watching the patterns they make, tail twitching happily against his neck. Evidently that's a 'yes'.</fc> | <color #008888>Mew's purring grows substantially louder for a moment, then she's clambering atop Terry's head, paws running through his short hair, idly watching the patterns they make, tail twitching happily against his neck. Evidently that's a 'yes'.</color> |
| |
| Terry exhales lightly, then nods toward Keith, who seems to be momentarily occupied with a gnaw on the nail of his left hand's index finger. Then he thaws out of it quite abruptly and announces: "Sure thing, give me a moment," using his previously nibbled digit to gesture attentiveness. That said, he vanishes past a door into his kitchen. | Terry exhales lightly, then nods toward Keith, who seems to be momentarily occupied with a gnaw on the nail of his left hand's index finger. Then he thaws out of it quite abruptly and announces: "Sure thing, give me a moment," using his previously nibbled digit to gesture attentiveness. That said, he vanishes past a door into his kitchen. |
| "Seriously?" Terry asks, evidently mildly surprised, but - given Nightclaw's size - not enough to think it an impossibility. "Sehto's smaller than I thought," he remarks, tapping the tip of a finger of his free hand against the rim of his glass, staring down at it. "I'm getting shackled to Nahla City in future, though," he comments. "Just around the corner, I guess," he smiles lightly, then takes a sip of his drink. | "Seriously?" Terry asks, evidently mildly surprised, but - given Nightclaw's size - not enough to think it an impossibility. "Sehto's smaller than I thought," he remarks, tapping the tip of a finger of his free hand against the rim of his glass, staring down at it. "I'm getting shackled to Nahla City in future, though," he comments. "Just around the corner, I guess," he smiles lightly, then takes a sip of his drink. |
| |
| <fc #008888>Terry's question is met with a definitive "Mew," in reply, idly watching him unfold-and-refold the map from her perch on his head. There's a delighted "Mew!" from her when Keith arrives with the drinks, and she slowly slides backwards off of Terry's head, perching on his shoulder once more, watching him attentively. A purr of delight spills from her as he takes a sip, before she has a chance to hide it. Not that it matters much, he's still completely clueless as to what's about to happen. In an attempt to burn off some of her excess energy, she darts down into Terry's lap, stretches, and makes herself comfortable there.</fc> | <color #008888>Terry's question is met with a definitive "Mew," in reply, idly watching him unfold-and-refold the map from her perch on his head. There's a delighted "Mew!" from her when Keith arrives with the drinks, and she slowly slides backwards off of Terry's head, perching on his shoulder once more, watching him attentively. A purr of delight spills from her as he takes a sip, before she has a chance to hide it. Not that it matters much, he's still completely clueless as to what's about to happen. In an attempt to burn off some of her excess energy, she darts down into Terry's lap, stretches, and makes herself comfortable there.</color> |
| |
| One of Terry's hands finds itself rather magnetically attracted to his psychic lapwarmer, gently tracing fingertips along her currently so elongated form. The glass is held a little limply in his hand, wrist devoid of tension, fingers making up for it. | One of Terry's hands finds itself rather magnetically attracted to his psychic lapwarmer, gently tracing fingertips along her currently so elongated form. The glass is held a little limply in his hand, wrist devoid of tension, fingers making up for it. |
| "Care... -ful..." Keith repeats, cautiously manipulating Terry's fingers against the glass to free it from its somewhat stiff but increasingly weak embrace, easing the item from Terry's digits and then leaning across to the table to set it down. | "Care... -ful..." Keith repeats, cautiously manipulating Terry's fingers against the glass to free it from its somewhat stiff but increasingly weak embrace, easing the item from Terry's digits and then leaning across to the table to set it down. |
| |
| <fc #008888>A low, satisfied purr spills from the tiny legendary in Terry's lap, and for a long moment, she simply closes her eyes, smile tugging at her feline features, savoring the human's terror. Keith knows all the best ways to entertain her, and unlike Jagdish actually seems to enjoy doing so, rather than taking it as some kind of necessary evil. Of course, being around Jagdish has its benefits as well, otherwise she'd probably just stay here in Kzye instead.</fc> | <color #008888>A low, satisfied purr spills from the tiny legendary in Terry's lap, and for a long moment, she simply closes her eyes, smile tugging at her feline features, savoring the human's terror. Keith knows all the best ways to entertain her, and unlike Jagdish actually seems to enjoy doing so, rather than taking it as some kind of necessary evil. Of course, being around Jagdish has its benefits as well, otherwise she'd probably just stay here in Kzye instead.</color> |
| |
| <fc #008888>Mew shifts slightly in Terry's lap, and then rolls over onto her back, gaze lazily swerving between Terry's face and Keith's, looking like she couldn't possibly imagine being in a better place right now.</fc> | <color #008888>Mew shifts slightly in Terry's lap, and then rolls over onto her back, gaze lazily swerving between Terry's face and Keith's, looking like she couldn't possibly imagine being in a better place right now.</color> |
| |
| The transition of his breath from quiet and steady to a jittery, erratic pant is quite abrupt, coming with a motion that's half a lean away from Keith and have a measly attempt at standing, prompting him to slide off the edge of the seat, right leg folding under him, and somewhat mercifully collapsing with most of his weight on his right arm, torso still caught against the couch. His left arm manages to come around to join his right, clutching at the fabric of the seat to anchor himself, eyes wide. | The transition of his breath from quiet and steady to a jittery, erratic pant is quite abrupt, coming with a motion that's half a lean away from Keith and have a measly attempt at standing, prompting him to slide off the edge of the seat, right leg folding under him, and somewhat mercifully collapsing with most of his weight on his right arm, torso still caught against the couch. His left arm manages to come around to join his right, clutching at the fabric of the seat to anchor himself, eyes wide. |
| Keith lingers in silence across the trapped, shivering human, trying to make out a communicative sliver amongst his body language, something acknowledging his words, but there's nothing there, really. He breathes an 'oh' suspended between disappointment and sadistic triumph, only to let a fresh grin blossom on his face. "All right," he whispers, leaning down a few more inches to place a light kiss against the lobe of Terry's left ear for no reason other than that it's within his ability to, unsurprisingly prompting his gradually dissolving victim to flinch away from the gesture, squeezing his eyes shut and trying a fresh twist out from under Keith, to no avail. | Keith lingers in silence across the trapped, shivering human, trying to make out a communicative sliver amongst his body language, something acknowledging his words, but there's nothing there, really. He breathes an 'oh' suspended between disappointment and sadistic triumph, only to let a fresh grin blossom on his face. "All right," he whispers, leaning down a few more inches to place a light kiss against the lobe of Terry's left ear for no reason other than that it's within his ability to, unsurprisingly prompting his gradually dissolving victim to flinch away from the gesture, squeezing his eyes shut and trying a fresh twist out from under Keith, to no avail. |
| |
| <fc #008888>The sudden lurch of motion from beneath her prompts a sharp squeal of surprise from Mew. A moment later, she abandons ship, propelling herself into the air, coming to rest just over halfway between floor and ceiling, twirling gently in mid-air, tail winding around her in excitement. For now, she simply hangs there, loosing a light giggle, content to watch the scene unfold from this new vantage point.</fc> | <color #008888>The sudden lurch of motion from beneath her prompts a sharp squeal of surprise from Mew. A moment later, she abandons ship, propelling herself into the air, coming to rest just over halfway between floor and ceiling, twirling gently in mid-air, tail winding around her in excitement. For now, she simply hangs there, loosing a light giggle, content to watch the scene unfold from this new vantage point.</color> |
| |
| The chill at the back of his neck gallopped down his spine as a sense of claustrophobia, knitting itself into his existing paralysis and keeping him still. His frayed thoughts refused to adopt any semblance of coherence, forming nothing of substance in his psyche - there was just an abstract danger looming over him, with all specific incarnations scattered into the wind. That made it no less visceral. | The chill at the back of his neck gallopped down his spine as a sense of claustrophobia, knitting itself into his existing paralysis and keeping him still. His frayed thoughts refused to adopt any semblance of coherence, forming nothing of substance in his psyche - there was just an abstract danger looming over him, with all specific incarnations scattered into the wind. That made it no less visceral. |
| Keith's moved to cautiously resting his palms against his victim's shoulderblades, regarding his awkwardly draped shape with a concern nonetheless thickly lined with the particular enjoyment his state induced. There's a tinge of scepticism in his body language broken a moment later with an exhale. His grin reasserts itself as he glances across at Mew. "Mew, sweetheart, while I grab some things, could you- could you make sure he doesn't do anything too unreflected and hurt himself?" he asks, voice suspended somewhere between a near-feline purr and warm satisfaction. "We don't want him hurting himself, after all, do we? If he falls at an unfavourable angle, he might twist a wrist or an ankle - and all that's going to do is distract him," he explains. "All right?" | Keith's moved to cautiously resting his palms against his victim's shoulderblades, regarding his awkwardly draped shape with a concern nonetheless thickly lined with the particular enjoyment his state induced. There's a tinge of scepticism in his body language broken a moment later with an exhale. His grin reasserts itself as he glances across at Mew. "Mew, sweetheart, while I grab some things, could you- could you make sure he doesn't do anything too unreflected and hurt himself?" he asks, voice suspended somewhere between a near-feline purr and warm satisfaction. "We don't want him hurting himself, after all, do we? If he falls at an unfavourable angle, he might twist a wrist or an ankle - and all that's going to do is distract him," he explains. "All right?" |
| |
| <fc #008888>Mew's expression darkens somewhat, tail twisting in a tight helix in the air, a low: "Mewwwwww," somewhere between indignant and disappointed emanating from her. Make sure he //doesn't// hurt himself? But watching him hurt himself is the entire //point//. She wouldn't even be here if it weren't for that.</fc> | <color #008888>Mew's expression darkens somewhat, tail twisting in a tight helix in the air, a low: "Mewwwwww," somewhere between indignant and disappointed emanating from her. Make sure he //doesn't// hurt himself? But watching him hurt himself is the entire //point//. She wouldn't even be here if it weren't for that.</color> |
| |
| <fc #008888>For a long pause, she hangs there, glaring at him indignantly for making her //wait// - but eventually she does cave, her shoulders sagging lightly and tail relaxing. "Mew," she sighs, and then floats down to rest on top of Terry's head, watching him diligently. Keith's doing her a favor, she reminds herself - even if she knows he'd do it whether she was there or not. She can bring herself to play by his rules. For now. But only because it's Keith.</fc> | <color #008888>For a long pause, she hangs there, glaring at him indignantly for making her //wait// - but eventually she does cave, her shoulders sagging lightly and tail relaxing. "Mew," she sighs, and then floats down to rest on top of Terry's head, watching him diligently. Keith's doing her a favor, she reminds herself - even if she knows he'd do it whether she was there or not. She can bring herself to play by his rules. For now. But only because it's Keith.</color> |
| |
| The seat of the couch lightly nudges up against him as the other occupant rises. Something sets down against his hair - even as his rational mind is quick to identify the cause, the rest of him has already flinched. His right hand's fingers are curled against his hand, trapped under his chest as it is, nestled in the corner of fabric providing a border to the armrest his shoulders are chiefly resting on. | The seat of the couch lightly nudges up against him as the other occupant rises. Something sets down against his hair - even as his rational mind is quick to identify the cause, the rest of him has already flinched. His right hand's fingers are curled against his hand, trapped under his chest as it is, nestled in the corner of fabric providing a border to the armrest his shoulders are chiefly resting on. |
| He's not fully registered Mew's presence. Subconsciously, her position is clear, both physically and metaphorically. Consciously, she's not posed a direct threat to him and he's had more pressing things to think about than whether her actions or lack thereof constituted a form of betrayal he should feel offended by. Offence is the last thing on his mind, of course - right now his focus is on staying alive. | He's not fully registered Mew's presence. Subconsciously, her position is clear, both physically and metaphorically. Consciously, she's not posed a direct threat to him and he's had more pressing things to think about than whether her actions or lack thereof constituted a form of betrayal he should feel offended by. Offence is the last thing on his mind, of course - right now his focus is on staying alive. |
| |
| <fc #008888>There's a brief moment of alarmed concern from the small Legendary at Terry's sudden movement, but it's quick to die down - there's no real risk of him hurting himself. Much as she'd enjoy watching that, but... no, she's going to do Keith this favor. It's a pity that for the moment she has to wait to watch him subjected to Keith's games, but at least she has his mortal terror to keep her entertained. A soft purr spills from her, her tail slowly swaying back and forth, brushing lightly against the back of his neck with each pass.</fc> | <color #008888>There's a brief moment of alarmed concern from the small Legendary at Terry's sudden movement, but it's quick to die down - there's no real risk of him hurting himself. Much as she'd enjoy watching that, but... no, she's going to do Keith this favor. It's a pity that for the moment she has to wait to watch him subjected to Keith's games, but at least she has his mortal terror to keep her entertained. A soft purr spills from her, her tail slowly swaying back and forth, brushing lightly against the back of his neck with each pass.</color> |
| |
| The human seems to twitch slightly at the brush of her tail, jolted into further disorientation and the resulting pangs of fear by the invisible but nonetheless identifiable touch. A deep breath spills from him as he, clearly not in the least intending to follow Keith's advice about not twisting ankle or wrist, continues to tug and wiggle himself forward, some part of him convinced that if he can just get off the couch, that's half the chore to freedom. | The human seems to twitch slightly at the brush of her tail, jolted into further disorientation and the resulting pangs of fear by the invisible but nonetheless identifiable touch. A deep breath spills from him as he, clearly not in the least intending to follow Keith's advice about not twisting ankle or wrist, continues to tug and wiggle himself forward, some part of him convinced that if he can just get off the couch, that's half the chore to freedom. |
| Then the near-serpentine motion is cut short as Keith's weight asserts itself as a pin of his hips, prompting a keen of distress from the now slightly more trapped morsel and the jittery sweep of his left arm across the ground to slap lightly against Keith's left thigh, grappling for the knee weakly, trying to worm fingers in under it and provide some leverage - imagined as less futile than it would be - to push him away. A pant escapes him into the soft fur of the floor. | Then the near-serpentine motion is cut short as Keith's weight asserts itself as a pin of his hips, prompting a keen of distress from the now slightly more trapped morsel and the jittery sweep of his left arm across the ground to slap lightly against Keith's left thigh, grappling for the knee weakly, trying to worm fingers in under it and provide some leverage - imagined as less futile than it would be - to push him away. A pant escapes him into the soft fur of the floor. |
| |
| A chuckle spills from that threat turned human, and quite in disregard for that searching hand pressing useless digits against his knee, Keith's fingertips sink against the bottom edge of Terry's shirt insomuch as it is accessible, and lightly tug it free. The motion prompts a fresh sound of alarm to spill from him and his arm aborts its ridiculous attempt to do something against the whole human being, instead twisting up to hook the tip of his thumb against the receding folds, trying to provide an anchor. | A chuckle spills from that threat turned human, and quite in disregard for that searching hand pressing useless digits against his knee, Keith's fingertips sink against the bottom edge of Terry's shirt insomuch as it is accessible, and lightly tugs it free. The motion prompts a fresh sound of alarm to spill from him and his arm aborts its ridiculous attempt to do something against the whole human being, instead twisting up to hook the tip of his thumb against the receding folds, trying to provide an anchor. |
| |
| With a familiar caution, Keith shifts his hands to pry the offending thumb from the fabric, evidently still quite happy for the moment to maintain a no pain policy. Terry's right arm tries to muster as much control as his left, to no avail, rolling against the ground slightly, and his eyes squeeze shut anew, high-pitched sound of complaint lurching from him as his top is peeled off, front edge tugged up from under him in sequential inches. Finally, as hands slide in under it to push up along his arms, a different sound surfaces - a low, guttural growl, only slightly broken apart into a jitter by weakness. | With a familiar caution, Keith shifts his hands to pry the offending thumb from the fabric, evidently still quite happy for the moment to maintain a no pain policy. Terry's right arm tries to muster as much control as his left, to no avail, rolling against the ground slightly, and his eyes squeeze shut anew, high-pitched sound of complaint lurching from him as his top is peeled off, front edge tugged up from under him in sequential inches. Finally, as hands slide in under it to push up along his arms, a different sound surfaces - a low, guttural growl, only slightly broken apart into a jitter by weakness. |
| Keith pauses. "...are you //angry// at me?" he asks, sounding half bemused, half perplexed. | Keith pauses. "...are you //angry// at me?" he asks, sounding half bemused, half perplexed. |
| |
| <fc #008888>A gleeful "Mew!" accompanies Keith's return, as Mew practically leaps up from her perch on Terry's head. She lays claim to the other human's shoulders instead, purring and rubbing her cheek against his affectionately, tail curling loosely around his neck. Welcome back, Keith. So good of you to join us again.</fc> | <color #008888>A gleeful "Mew!" accompanies Keith's return, as Mew practically leaps up from her perch on Terry's head. She lays claim to the other human's shoulders instead, purring and rubbing her cheek against his affectionately, tail curling loosely around his neck. Welcome back, Keith. So good of you to join us again.</color> |
| |
| **✘ IN PROGRESS** | Keith drifts his gaze to the side, catching a glimpse of Mew's enthused posture. Such a precious pokémon. Best friend. Well, except Raichu - Mew couldn't displace Raichu as best friend if she tried, but second best friend was still a pretty great and adequate title. A moment of wiggled shoulders and hands later, a blank canvas lies beneath him, uttering a slightly muffled sound of rage, frustration and fear against the ground and the corner of his shirt half wrapped against his face, before Keith's right hand tugs Terry's head up a scant inch, only to discard the garment entirely. |
| | |
| | That frees his hands, of course, and for a moment, he lets his attention wander to Mew properly, raising nimble fingers to touch the back of her neck and head with two fingertips in an appreciating gesture. |
| | |
| | Done, he exhales, closing his eyes briefly and tipping his head back, considering his options - before somewhat lazily leaning backwards and to his left, casting his left arm back along with a gaze to guide it. The edge of his palm briefly sets down on the table surface in part to steady his mildly awkward posture and he pauses for a moment, before Terry feels his weight shift again as he returns to his prior position. Then, Terry's left hand finds itself grasped by Keith's right, thumb gently pressing against the base of his fingers, rest of Keith's digits wrapped against his knuckles, tugging the arm up a little from its previous aborted struggle and awkward twist against the captive's side and into a more natural position. |
| | |
| | Then, as the light grasp leaves his hand be, the cold tip of a pair of scissors comes to rest against his skin between the knuckle of his index and middle finger, providing an uncomfortable but light pin of the hand against the ground. |
| | |
| | Maybe the effect would not be nearly as visceral if Terry couldn't quite so plainly identify the item, if it were out of sight, but the token rage he'd rumbled before evaporates. For a moment, he holds very still, mind grappling with the implications... and quick to decide that it neither liked any of the ones that immediately came to mind, nor wanted to pursue that train of thought any further. The two millimetres of downward motion he can still instil into his hand before the ground is in the way are used to full extent his paralysed state allows and a single, curt syllable of a slightly broken, pleading whimper escapes him, slight tremble of tension to the two outer fingers. |
| | |
| | Rather than heed the implied request to cut it out already, Keith's right hand grasps at Terry's index finger, effortlessly overpowering the weak attempts of the digit to curl in on itself. The tip of Keith's thumb presses against the knuckle, rest of his hand gently pulling the finger off the ground at an angle. A moment later, the twin blades part and slide to straddle that unfortunate digit. Terry's next exhale adopts a high-pitched tone of distress, long, drawn-out, across an attempt of his spine to wind to the side, hand to tug itself free and his fingers to curl themselves into a tight fist. All it predictably does is emphasise the tendons at the back of his hand and imbue it with a fresh and persistent jitter of tension. |
| | |
| | <color #008888>A soft, satisfied: "Mew," spills from the pokémon at the touch of Keith's fingers. She watches with idle fascination as Keith pulls out the scissors; when they close lightly around Terry's trapped finger, her eyes widen and she utters a loud, rumbling purr. Is he actually going to follow through on that, or is it just a bluff? Much as she might hope for the former, it's probably the latter - Keith's only just started, after all, and she knows how much he likes to take his time - not to mention he's usually not quite that reckless. Still, a girl can dream, can't she?</color> |
| | |
| | <color #008888>Terry, in the meantime, is much less amused and much more terrified by this state of affairs. His gaze is locked in horror on the scissors and trapped digit. In a bout of panic, his left arm pulls desperately, trying to dislodge the finger from Keith's grip, with predictable lack of results. If he could find the coordination to speak at the moment, he might be saying something along the lines of: "Oh god please don't hurt me please don't please don't!" - instead, a high-pitched keening communicates roughly the same thing.</color> |
| | |
| | At the bout of struggling, however weak given the paralytic substance in Terry's veins, Keith rumbles in mild discontent. A moment later, in an almost uncharacteristically swift movement given his casual pace so far, the twin blades slide away from the digit, only to skew apart further, separated as far as they will go, and just as Keith's right hand finds itself repurposed to grip his captive's head at the back of the same, the tip of one finds itself pressed to Terry's cheekbone at a thoroughly alarming angle. With the sharp edge of the unoccupied blade glinting dangerously in the light and the other invisible given its slant, it's easy to imagine a slight jerk of the grip on the implement could drive the tip into his eye. As such, the instruction Keith gives a moment later, darker intoned as it is, doubles as sound advice: "Hold. Still." |
| | |
| | <color #008888>The formerly-trapped finger thuds lightly against the carpet, arm dragging a centimetre before the tip of one of the scissorblades comes to rest against his cheekbone, Keith's right hand gripping at the back of his skull. Wholly involuntary shivers of terror running through his arms and jittery breaths aside, the instruction is followed, though more out of absolute terror of the immediate consequences than anything else.</color> |
| | |
| | For a moment, Keith seems to follow his own instruction, posture as if frozen against his captive - then the blade twists lightly about its pivot on Terry's cheek until its twin almost grazes the far side of the unfortunate man's nose, only to press firmly against the soft skin of his face and drag across and away from it, angle of the blade causing a semblance of a cut so shallow it doesn't even draw blood, only briefly stinging. |
| | |
| | Fingertips drag across Terry's scalp a moment later, hand withdrawing from its pressure against the back of his head. Then, the weight of Keith's arm presses down against the side of his head at height of his temple, attached human shifting his weight and pinning Terry's skull to the ground, and - with his left hand and the weapon off goodness knows where, in some perceptive nirvana - the captor's right hand's wrist pivots and fingers drift to press against his lips. Motion uncomfortably suspended between gentle and careless, the tips of index and middle finger wiggle past his lips, only to hook in under one and tug it against his thumb, trapping it in a grip. |
| | |
| | ...of course, it //would// be right at that point that the crude weapon resurfaces, angle sharply acute, sliding to join those fingers in their grip. Suddenly, with the dangerous pressure to equal parts on both sides of the trapped lip, a part of Terry no longer feels 'hold still' was such sage advice. |
| | |
| | <color #008888>There's a flinch from Terry as the blade comes down and traces a stinging line across his face, and then a moment later the item's gone, whisked away to some unseen corner. Okay. Okay, maybe he can manage to get his bearings and do something about this. He's uncomfortable and terrified out of his mind, but there's nothing sharp being pointed at him right this second, so maybe he can keep his wits about him and try to figure out a way out of this nightmare.</color> |
| | |
| | <color #008888>As such, the reaction to those fingers tugging at his lips is mostly just one of sheer annoyed discomfort. He doesn't think much of it until the scissors come back, joining those fingers and closing around the lip - then his eyes widen in panicked terror, and he screams, squeezing his eyes shut, spine wriggling uselessly under Keith's weight. He has to get out of here. His rational mind points out that's clearly impossible, but it doesn't matter. He needs to escape, //right now//, or.... His mind refuses to complete that thought. In desperation, his fingers try to curl into the carpet, hoping to drag himself towards the door perhaps? Or something? There's no rationale behind it, merely instinctive urge to be anywhere but here right now.</color> |
| | |
| | The twin blades rest as they are for a moment, owner only slightly increasing his lean down against the trapped skull to pin it more firmly. Then, as if he's changed his mind about what precisely to do, the angle between the blades widens a bit and it nearly withdraws, before the tip of one blade drags lightly across his gums and the weapon comes to rest in loose, threatening grip against his cheek instead. That's a familiar threat, from various grotesque horror stories, and... he really needs to get out of here. It's not a question of flight, it's a question of having to magically disappear right this moment. Maybe if his hope is strong enough, it'll happen. |
| | |
| | Then a chuckle spills from Keith and that awful item relents, sliding from is embrace of his skin and closing with a soft sound. "Oh, relax," Keith purrs, tone one of fondness and a dismissive, casual tinge, both, right arm lifting and respective hand setting down in two light, soothing pats of Terry's short hair. "I'm just messing with you." |
| | |
| | Said, Keith exhales again, the smile on his face appearing as if permanently grafted as his expression, wholly satisfied with this whole game so far. His spine wiggles a little as he leans back, setting the crude weapon back down, and pausing in that posture, pondering how to proceed. It's probably time to actually follow up with something for a change, lest Terry start having the mistaken impression he's actually entirely safe, when he should much rather be adequately forewarned instead. |
| | |
| | <color #008888>...wait. Wait what. What just happened. 'Just messing with him'? Did Keith just drug him, take off his shirt, and threaten to cut open his cheek with a pair of scissors just 'to mess with him'? 'Friendly hazing' he could deal with, but this is taking it to a ludicrous and dangerous extreme. He'd been terrified that this would turn into another Taqnateh. Okay, fine, haha, very funny, now please get off me and let me go so I can go and run far, far away from here and never think about this again. Oh and give me my damn shirt back.</color> |
| | |
| | <color #008888>Mew, in the meanwhile, seems to have grown mildly impatient with merely watching Terry panic, given the mild tension bristling into her tail. "Mewwwwww," she whines softly into Keith's ear, pawing gently at his face. Come on, when are you going to get to the //really// fun part?</color> |
| | |
| | At the corner of Terry's vision, Keith seems to busy himself with something, weight on Terry's hip shifting subtle and awkwardly in the process. It's a silent matter, and were it not for the fact he's //sitting// on him, it might appear like he's wholly forgotten about his unfortunate victim for the moment, leaving him to scheme another escape. |
| | |
| | No such luck, of course. A moment later, the top of something unscrews, and Keith's attention wanders back to his captive, a soft hum emanating from him like a remembered melody not intoned in a way that would permit recognition. An instant later, something cold drips against Terry's spine, two drops, and even as he tries to grapple with the possible source, Keith's fingers set down against his skin with an altogether different texture, darker shadows than before. A thin film of something finds itself slowly spread across his shoulderblades, gloved digits knead dragging across that blank canvas, then wandering along his upper arms, grasping at the weak limbs firmly on their travel. |
| | |
| | The hum and the motions pause a long moment later, fingers dry of the substance and evidently encountering more friction resistance, and Keith gives a soft rumbling sound akin to a grumble, briefly leaning back again for a second helping. Another stray drop finds Terry's left shoulderblade, then Keith's hands set down where they'd left off, dragging from halfway along the captive's upper arms all the way up to his wrists. |
| | |
| | Another pause enters Keith's demeanour at that point, as if he's considering his options, hovering above his paralysed victim as he is - then Keith's right hand detaches from Terry's right wrist, moving to join the captor's left, and fingers knead against the trapped hand, fingertips rolling around digits and pushing between them, all while Keith's sunny disposition refuses to dim. His overall attention leaves a thin sheen in its wake, a slightly unnatural gloss to the bare skin, but nothing bad seems to be happening - or, well, it's not dissolving his skin, at least, or otherwise immediately uncomfortable. |
| | |
| | The hands withdraw a moment later, a curious glance from Keith evident as he moves his head to inspect his work - then they set down briefly against the small of Terry's back, dragging up his skin from there with considerably less focus, as if to simply get rid of the last of the substance. The hum stops as Keith leans back again. "Okay, enough of that," he murmurs, half to himself, half to his psychic friend, a friendly indicator that he's about done with scaring and disturbing Terry and... oh, yes. Both his hands, still gloved as they are, grasp a hold of an almost delicate looking blade, right hand wrapped loosely about the hilt, left hand balancing the other end of it with two outstretched fingers, regarding it as if at first to ensure it an adequate tool. Another sound of warm satisfaction issues from Keith and he relieves his left hand of its inspection duty, leaning back down across Terry and sliding his free hand in under his, wiggling fingers up between his to lightly grasp at and trap it. |
| | |
| | And then, the previous notion that Keith may just be a bunch of hot air evaporates in an instant as his right hand sets the point of the knife down just under the middle finger's knuckle... and drags down across the back of Terry's hand, tightly following the tendon, leaving a rather precisely drawn, parallel crimson line in its wake. A very localised fire erupts along that shallow cut, more intense than the cut itself would explain, like an array of hot needles poking into his skin. |
| | |
| | <color #008888>Terry's right arm slowly tries to find purchase against the carpet. Maybe if he can muster enough strength he can drag his way out of here, find something akin to safety. Another growl surfaces from Terry at Keith's touch, anger laced with sudden terrified uncertainty. He doesn't like where this looks to be going. He doesn't like it one bit and he needs to get out of this situation. He shuts his eyes, grits his teeth, and redoubles his efforts. In a sudden bout of control, his right hand lunges forward, gripping the carpet weakly - but that's all that happens. Even if Keith weren't sitting on him, in his current state he'd have difficulty getting anywhere.</color> |
| | |
| | <color #008888>Mew, in the meantime, seems to be growing ever more impatient. Around the point that Keith is applying the oil to Terry's hand, she leans down and gives his earlobe a little nip - not nearly enough to cause any damage or pain beyond a brief sting, but certainly more than enough to let Keith know that she's getting tired of waiting.</color> |
| | |
| | <color #008888>Unfortunately for Terry, she doesn't have to wait much longer for things to get interesting. Terry glares at the knife defiantly for the few moments it's in visual range, evidently assuming it's just another trick to spur a reaction out of him - and then, in an instant of fiery pain, that's disproven. A cry of pain spills from him, fingers twitching against Keith's involuntarily, arm jerkily trying to pull away from his grasp.</color> |
| | |
| | <color #008888>Mew's response to that is a delighted purr, nuzzling against Keith's cheek once more, then proceeding to lick at his neck playfully. Now she's reminded why she likes Keith so much. Now all is forgiven.</color> |
| | |
| | Mew's nuzzling serves to make Keith's expression a little warmer still, appreciating the company of his pink-furred little friend. For a moment, he glances at her to make it clear the sentiment is directed at her, then he's dragging his attention back to the hand, pearling crimson at the end of that thin cut. Then he's slid the tip of the blade out of the incision, own left hand dragging out from under Terry's after giving it what's no doubt intended as an encouraging squeeze, pinky and ring finger tracing along the inside of Terry's wrist as they leave. |
| | |
| | Rather than leave the hand to its newfound freedom, however, a gloved thumb sets down against the back of it, only to rub across the red line painted along it in three gentle circles, ending at the knuckle. A moment later, Keith's hand sets back down against Terry's, palm pressing against the back of it, thumb easing under it to turn it over despite its measly attempts to curl in on itself or otherwise flee, fingers knitting against the captive's to trap them. The point of the blade sets down against his taut palm at a position almost mirroring its prior one, resting for a moment, Keith, hovering above his victim as he is, gaze anchored on Terry's face, clearly curious to see how he might react now that he's better informed. |
| | |
| | <color #008888>This is not okay. This is so very far beyond the limits of what could be considered 'okay' by any standards. He's not done anything to deserve this - there's not even the pretense of a reason. In some ways, that makes it even worse than Taqnateh was - and at least Jagdish had never taken //joy// out of tormenting him the way Keith is doing right now.</color> |
| | |
| | <color #008888>With great difficulty, Terry twists his neck, trying to bury his face in the carpet, breathing erratically. The fingers of his right hand clench into a loose fist, in some sort of vain attempt at focusing his attention away from the spike of pain emanating from the back of his left hand and the point of pressure of the knife tip against his palm.</color> |
| | |
| | The action that follows is entirely predictable, of course. The tip of the blade sinks into skin, dragging down along that uneven palm, prompting another line of fire to erupt across Terry's perception as a series of unwelcome, scalding pinpricks. The trapped hand quivers in weak tension, prompting a gentle squeeze that might be reassuring in a less nightmarish situation. |
| | |
| | Again, the blade withdraws, this time tracing its edge along the inside of Terry's wrist, its delicate serration stroking along it a few times in a lazy back and forth motion. For a moment of tense balance, Keith rests his forehead against the back of Terry's head, a sound of content spilling from him akin to a drawn-out, slightly drunk purr, almost trapping his own arm between them, then rising back up and, in what feels almost like the same overall movement, pulling the blade up his captive's arm, tracing the full length of it along the edge of it not rested on the carpet. As it reaches the shoulder, it abruptly jerks into rapid motion, drawing back in the same instant, mark in its wake thinning to none across several centimetres in a diagonal line across the shoulderblade. |
| | |
| | <color #008888>Another muffled sound of pain escapes through clenched teeth as the blade draws another line down his palm, erupting in stinging fire. His free hand shivers in tandem with the trapped one. In between jittering breaths comes a soft, mewling, terrified tone as the blade slides against his wrist, willing the same to stay still lest it slip and cut itself against the knife. Tension winds into Terry's neck and shoulders as Keith looms over him, and it doesn't quite manage to dissipate before the knife draws another line across his shoulderblade, prompting another howl from Terry, directed into the carpet.</color> |
| | |
| | <color #008888>It's at this point that Mew, purring incessantly in delight, floats off of Keith's shoulder, long tail rubbing along the back of his neck as it unwinds from its loose hang. She floats in mid-air for a long moment, before descending next to Terry's head, coming to rest in a hover just off the ground, tail curled underneath her. For a few seconds she just sits there, watching with morbid fascination, before she reaches out a paw to brush gently at Terry's hair, just behind his left ear.</color> |
| | |
| | His arm and shoulder are burning more than they have any right to for a few shallow cuts, no matter the bright crimson designating them. Index and middle finger of Terry's lightly mangled left hand press together, curled to a fleshy claw, subtle motions born of instinct only serving to barb fresh pain up his senses. His aching shoulder rolls as much as the partial paralysis allows, rising weakly from the ground, and with a sound of fear and pain, Terry's pulled his wrist partly under his body, deliberately trapping his arm against his body, miserably trying to find a space in his psyche that would let him refuse to acknowledge any more of Keith's games. |
| | |
| | As Mew sets down beside his head, brushing a tail along the back of his neck in passing, he closes his eyes, willing a shudder down, a wire of nausea twisting in his gut at the saccharine medley of light tingle and persistent fire meshing within him. Fortunately, one of those parts is rapid to diminish, and so he cautiously glances at her as she settles down, wary, as if hoping for some kind of mercy. Truthfully, he doesn't fully understand her part in this. There are no indicators that she's a mere innocent bystander, but the notion that she might be enjoying his suffering to equal degree as his captor simply does not want to register. |
| | |
| | And then her paw finds his hair, prompting him to clench his jaw and squeeze his eyes shut once more, both to best of his ability, breathing slowly but no less miserably through his nose. He doesn't want to be here. He doesn't want to be having these thoughts. He doesn't want to feel this unbidden fear and pain and the terrifying, claustrophobic sense of helplessness. Behind Keith, Terry's left foot twists uselessly against the ground as if to find purchase and naturally finding none. |
| | |
| | As a fresh sting of fire erupts from the top of his spine, point of pressure and pain dragging down along it, the medley of discomfort flares into a fresh, hot bout of anger, prompting a guttural, weak snarl half-muffled against the ground and by his own tense jaw. Tears glitter at the corners of his eyes, tortured spine attempting to arch down, to escape the sadistic attention, instead winding to the right slightly, in part causing its own pain as the line drawn by the blade thickens. |
| | |
| | <color #008888>A soft purr spills from the feline as Terry writhes and twists under Keith's attention, her tail weaving to and fro behind her, right forepaw continuing to stroke gently at the trapped human's hair. He doesn't understand how much she's enjoying this - not that it really matters either way, but his confusion about it only adds to his entertainment value. The notion that he's hoping for mercy from //her// elicits a brief giggle of amusement. Purring lightly, she leans forward and brushes her head against his cheek in an affectionate nuzzle, then her tongue laps at the thin line of moisture spilling from the corner of his eye. Tastes like fear and pain and desperation - delicious.</color> |
| | |
| | Eyes flutter, laboured breath escaping the captive in panted spurts, and as Mew laps at his tears, a spasm travels through the weak, partly-paralysed body, jerking his head away from the attention by half an inch, miserable, angry whimper escaping him between clenched teeth. A much more prominent, guttural, warped sound of protest issues from him, once more half-muffled by circumstance, as another line of bright crimson is drawn to decorate his right shoulder diagonally. The sound tapers off into a venomous hiss as Terry opens his eyes to glare at Mew - and Keith in spirit. |
| | |
| | Keith, meanwhile, could hardly appear more content if he tried, a casual, fond smile as if carved into his expression, leant loosely across his victim as he is, cautious in his motions, though not alert in the strictest sense. Certainly, the rest of the world is rather secondary right now - there's a gently quivering creature trapped under him, reacting to his actions with instinctive melodies like some particularly exotic musical instrument. For a moment, he lets the edge of the blade hover above Terry's skin, undecided whether to continue the coarse, abstract image he's been drawing along that shifting canvas - then decides against it, setting the implement down against that tortured spine, adding a sting of cold metal to the medley of sensations. With both hands free, he draws in a breath to purr, shifting a his weight a few inches down his captive's body, only to push his palms in under his victim, wiggling to grapple with his belt. "Don't take this the wrong way," he comments in a whisper framed by the hint of a saccharine tone. "I'm just going to borrow your belt for a moment." |
| | |
| | Whether that was a hollow reassurance or simply no reassurance at all, Terry's considerably less tortured arm travels in neurological disorientation along the ground in desperate twitches toward those grasping hands. Thumb and index finger of his right hand find Keith's right wrist, dragging against it to no effect. Eyes squeeze shut again, breath a pant. The animal part of him was not afraid - it was angry. The kernel of visceral emotion in him assured him with irrevocable vehemence that there would be hell to pay if Keith dared to approach him again. |
| | |
| | The leather tongue of the belt drags against Terry's hip, trying to cling to the fabric with friction, but ultimately weaker than the force tugging it from its loops. A moment later, it's escaped its hold. Terry's fingers are weakly hooked against Keith's right wrist at this point, index finger twisted into a claw-like curve against it, corner of the nail digging against it with as much force as his state permitted - which would not even be much if there were no glove in the way in the attempted assault. |
| | |
| | The loose loop of the belt sets down against the small of Terry's back, coils curving off the left side of his body, light pressure of fingers pinning it against his skin idly. Keith's right arm gently eases itself upward until those reaching fingers fail, arm too weakly coordinated to follow the motion, falling to Terry's side at a slightly awkward angle. Keith smiles and, in a motion reminiscent of stroking a pet traces a digit gently up along the split skin across Terry's spine, the glovebound remnants of whatever he's kneaded into his skin flaring an intense, fresh pain up his senses. Terry grits his teeth as much as his ability permits, fresh cry lurching from him. If thoughts could kill, he'd have struck his captor down three times over in that moment alone. |
| | |
| | <color #008888>Terry's glare prompts a shift in Mew's mood from saccharine affection to a somewhat more subdued curiosity. Wide, almond-shaped eyes meet Terry's gaze, clearly unfazed by his rage, pondering whether he's finally figured out her game or is just acting out of terror and pain.</color> |
| | |
| | <color #008888>After a few more moments, her gaze swivels lazily up to Keith, that same curious air about her. He's put the knife down. "Mew," she observes, the hint of confusion in her tone clear through her otherwise curious demeanor. She floats upwards into a hover above Terry's head, tip of her long tail dangling in front of his face, occasional twitches causing the fur to brush lightly against his nose.</color> |
| | |
| | "Patience," Keith whispers, catching Mew's quizzical expression, casting a fond glance at her, own motions smoothed by the degree he's delighted by all of this. His fingers set back down to grasp the knife he'd set down before, body tipped forward almost in dangerous disregard for balance; briefly, tensely, he brushes a kiss against the back of Terry's neck, then he's rising back up, straightening his spine, only to lean back yet again to set the blade down where it isn't in the way. |
| | |
| | Savouring the moment, he simply draws out a breath, slowly drifting his gaze back down to his lightly writhing, quivering victim. Then he shifts a little further down, until he's sat more on Terry's thighs than his hips, and passes the borrowed item from the loose hold of his left hand to a firmer, considerably more conscious grip of his right. The thumb of his left hand traces along the length of it, straightening out the coil, tip coming to rest at an angle against Terry's back. |
| | |
| | Tension grips the trapped human - rage or not, the shifting and light touch of leather against skin articulated a clear threat. It didn't inspire fear - more of a numb resignation as imagination provided what was to follow in abstract, and the rest of his psyche decided that it was going to have none of that, and simply refused to grapple with the topic beyond a visceral, final rejection. |
| | |
| | As the first lash actually sets down against split skin, biting at it at a harsh angle, something in his psyche cuts off the sensation altogether for an instant of stolid, subconscious intent. Unfortunately, his animal mind is not convinced - he's clearly not able to use the perceptive shield to escape, so what use can the herculean effort to block it out possibly be? With a half second delay, the full fiery force of the assault overwhelms him, feeling like a monstrous set of talons dragging across his hapless body. A startled, frantic sound begins - and stops short almost as soon as it started, caught in his throat, breath held, the fingers of his hands curled to best of their ability into the paralytic equivalent of tight fists. The sliver of rational mind left to him is not even sure that parsed right, his prior, meek scales for sensations feeling quite splintered and fragmented. It wasn't so much off the chart as distinctly lateral to it. |
| | |
| | <color #008888>The Legendary's initial response is a dissatisfied whine, tip of her tail twitching in mild frustration. Keith should know by now that patience isn't even close to being one of her virtues. Slowly, her gaze dips to Terry's quivering, mangled back, and she lets out a soft sigh, descending once more to brush her fur lightly against Terry's cheek. She can live with this for the time being, she supposes.</color> |
| | |
| | <color #008888>Thankfully, she doesn't need to wait long before Keith's intentions become clear, and hardly more than that before he starts following through on them. A thrilled, cheerful "Mewwww!" spills from her as the belt lashes against Terry's skin, before Terry's curt cry even finds voice. A moment later, she's hurled herself at Keith in an air-tackle, clambering onto the back of his neck and curling her tail around it in affection. All is forgiven, Keith. I still love you.</color> |
| | |
| | Much as if he were a pokémon himself, Keith reacts to the wanton display of affection with a purr of his own. If Raichu hadn't declined audience of the inevitable scene that was playing out, it would be shaking its head in frustration at the terrible influence the Psychic Legendary was to Keith. Speaking of which, Keith's left hand's risen to catch against Mew's tiny body, tips of index and middle finger stroking along her fur, trying to touch her spine a gesture of affection, though the way he's blind to her exact posture makes it more of an approximate motion. His left knee rises, raising him a few more inches and giving him more room, before that band of leather cracks back down, lapping like a solid flame against Terry's mangled shoulders. The captive twitches, motion wholly outside his conscious control, only to tensely cling his arms against his body where they are - right arm by his side with the palm curled upwards, left still pressing his tortured hand against his shoulder. Unbidden, his breathing morphs into a series of warped, half-muted sobs, hitching through him with an irregularity mandated by the toxin in his veins. For a moment, there's still a coherent sliver of his psyche left, wondering in disorientation what was even happening - then a third lash extinguishes it, leaving him with only fire, his own salty tears, and the broken melody born of his anguish. |
| | |
| | <color #008888>Mew twists slightly under Keith's stroking fingers, adjusting her posture just enough to let them brush along her spine, eliciting a soft, contented purr from her. Each of the following two lashes of the belt spurs a jolt of delighted energy from the small creature as she watches Terry's reactions, tail tensing momentarily against Keith's neck. "Mewwww," she whispers to him, leaning in close to his left ear, running her tongue across it briefly. He's not thinking of stopping now, is he? She hopes not; they've just gotten to the best part, after all.</color> |
| | |
| | "My ear is not food," Keith scolds her, tone playful, soft, clearly simply sharing a casual joke with her. It's probably good that Terry is beyond a genuine understanding of his surroundings at this point, lest the callous disregard for his suffering would probably just fuel his anger further. With that spoken, Keith lets his attention find Terry again; and a moment later, own enjoyment wholly visible in his demeanour and expression, the swerve of his arm and flick of his wrist applies another strike to Terry's back. Quite in time with it, a cry spills from their quivering captive, curt and miserably distorted by his softer sobs. |
| | |
| | As another lash prompts a woefully identical reaction, however, Keith pauses, rightly questioning the coherence of his victim. It would be a shame if he's not wholly... present to appreciate the attention, surely? And as such, with a brief, apologetic glance given to Mew, nonetheless fond smiling, he curls the belt back into a neat, tight loop, only to deposit it on the ground beside Terry. Keith's right hand rises, easing index and middle finger in under the edge of his left hand's glove, and a moment later, he's peeled it off and dragged the back of his thumb's nail along his lips pensively. Then those fingers drift down, dragging the backs of his nails along that tortured skin, crossing cuts and welts along the way, leaving red pressure and friction marks in their wake and prompting a low, defeated, resigned and wavering whine from his victim. |
| | |
| | "I think he's all spent," Keith comments with a tinge of regret, but humour to equal amounts. The 'aww' and 'oh no!' is not spoken. Certainly, he could probably beat him a few more times, but if the effect was going to be purely instinctive, where was the fun in that? |
| | |
| | <color #008888>A delighted purr spills from the small creature as Keith continues his work, but then... it stops. A faint whine escapes Mew's throat, soon shifting into a long, drawn-out "Mewwwwwww," and she unwinds her tail from Keith's neck, floating down to her earlier spot near Terry's face, eyes screwed shut and sobbing uncontrollably. "Mew?" she queries, prodding gently at his cheek with a forepaw, eliciting a twitch and a sob. Terry? Terry, come back, we've been having so much fun with you so far, won't you please join us again? A few more prods are met with the same reaction, and she mews a sigh, clambering onto the back of his neck and nipping gently at his ear, tail brushing lightly against the top of his spine.</color> |
| | |
| | Keith brings his left hand up to touch teeth and lips against the knuckle of his index finger contemplatively. Was there something he could do to knock some lucidity back into his victim? Perhaps more importantly, should he do so if there was? It's not quite as important as with other people, seeing as he's bound to rarely or never cross paths with Terry again, but perhaps he shouldn't push him too far. At the very least, he should probably patch him up again so he doesn't send someone to assassinate him at next opportunity. |
| | |
| | For a moment, he's still, simply watching the captive twitch and tremble, half in simple automation, half in reaction to the touch of Mew's tail. The softest sound of curt protest escapes Terry at the nip of his ear - with how that didn't even hurt, it's clear he's only reacting to change. He's drowned in emotional noise. |
| | |
| | A shame. |
| | |
| | Slowly, Keith rises and straightens himself out, glancing down at the body with the sheen of oil and cold sweat and the decoration of crimson specks where impact had scattered blood from the split skin. It felt like such a waste to stop now, but he'd just get increasingly dissatisfied by the reactions if he continued, and he firmly believes in quitting while one is ahead. That's doubly true when you don't want to run your chances of forgiveness into the ground //completely//. |
| | |
| | To Terry's perception, time might as well have stopped moving. Depending on which part of his psyche he deigned to ask, the time until Keith's returned with a bucket of water set down to slosh quietly beside him might either be no time at all or an eternity. The sound of water drizzling against water prompts a gentle twist of his spine, weak shadow of an attempt to get away; but then Keith's sat back down on Terry's bum, providing a firm pin for the drained human shape. |
| | |
| | A purely reflexive twitch travels through Terry as a few drops of water strike his back. Some words from Keith register as speech, but not as any statement in particular, though the tone is undeniably soothing. A moment later, something moist, cool and soft drags cautiously across his skin. The sting as it passes across the cuts is not as bad as it could be, owing in part to the numbness his own body was stubbornly applying to the source of pain and in part to the nature of it, bringing with it a healing tingle, a borderline itching sensation. |
| | |
| | A wire of nausea has knotted itself into Terry's gut quite firmly, now the chief aspect keeping him still, as if any deliberate motion against the paralysis would result in his feeling violently ill. His breath's broken apart into fragments by a jitter. He's shivering, as if some part of him were sure he was cold - if anything, the opposite is true; his back still feels like it's burning up, but even his unmarred skin feels as if soaked in heat. |
| | |
| | <color #008888>Keith's disappointment is shared by Mew, paws combing through Terry's short hair passively. Looks like fun time is over for now. A soft, soothing purr spills from her as she runs her paws along the paralyzed human's scalp. Oh well, at least they had a lot of fun while it lasted. She'll just entertain herself by sitting here and reminiscing while Keith cleans up.</color> |
| | |
| | Keith's left hand wraps fingers around Terry's half-trapped wrist, gently tugging the mangled hand out from under his body, wiping the blood away from the back of it and the palm of it, both, then tracing along the shallow cut along the length of his arm. A light purr escapes him as he pauses, leaning to the side to rinse out the sponge and drench it in fresh potion-laced water. Then the careful cleaning motions continue. |
| | |
| | Terry is silent, trying to get his bearings back. It's over, right? Please, please let it be over. He doesn't want this to be the lead-up to another go at mangling his skin. He still doesn't want to be in this room with Keith. There's a numb horror strung through his synapses, keeping him outwardly complacent and inwardly disoriented and confused. He's not even sure what happened and why it happened. Is this some further punishment for his hubris? He closes his eyes, distantly aware of the gentle paws kneading against his scalp, raising the hairs at the back of his neck and spreading light gooseflesh across his arms in some visceral revulsion nonetheless only distantly obvious to his conscious perception. |
| | |
| | <color #008888>The tiny Legendary shifts her weight forward, sprawling her limbs across the back of Terry's head, forepaws resting on his temples, hindpaws on his shoulders, tail brushing lightly against his neck. Her purring resonates against his skull, sounding significantly louder to him than it actually is. After a few moments, her tongue rolls out and rubs along his scalp several times, as if she decided his head were a patch of fur that needed cleaning.</color> |
| | |
| | There's something distinctly disturbing about the pink-furred creature's attention, and Terry's face scrunches up as best as the substance in his veins allows. Driven by what feels like an urge similar to swatting away a bug, his right hand crawls along the ground, only to lift weakly, pressing against Mew's shape, trying to grasp at her, but not quite managing to go through the right motions. |
| | |
| | The pain in his back is subsiding quite rapidly, though, replaced with a lazy tingle of healing skin. It doesn't feel quite right - the part of him that had driven him to embrace visceral terror found itself pawing disorientedly at the sensation, looking for the familiar agony that surely had to be lurking beneath it. As it is, the overwhelming part of his discomfort now is a stiffness and light ache from all the tension he's exhibited. |
| | |
| | Water pitter-patters back into the bucket, sponge set down on the rim a moment later, balanced against one of the hinges. "Mew, would you move for a moment?" Keith asks, tone pleasant as always, nudging the tips of his right hand's index and middle finger against the back of Terry's neck in a spot that the Legendary's position allows, sliding half an inch through the short strands of hair. |
| | |
| | <color #008888>The slight pressure from Terry's hand draws Mew's attention away from her current activity, instead twisting and grabbing the offending hand lightly in her forepaws. A few moments later, Keith's asking her to move, and she decides she's going to claim ownership of Terry's right hand. She pushes herself into a lazy float, her hindlegs shifting to offer a loose grip of his wrist, tail coiling around the forearm; then she finds a nice spot on the ground and sets his hand down, coming to rest on top of it.</color> |
| | |
| | Terry's thumb has twisted itself into something of a grasp of her form by now, but it's quite ineffective - and, for that matter, obsolete, since the desire that had born the motion no longer applied. In a way, it makes him realise it was a stupid one in the first place - he had never wanted her off his head. He'd wanted her away from him. The two were only coincidentally correlated at the time. |
| | |
| | A grip asserts itself against his scalp, though, causing him to draw a rapid breath in alarm, squeezing his eyes shut as he's peeled off the ground, spine arching. His arms hang uselessly by his sides, free one shifting in a similarly pointless swerve, index and middle finger dragging side-on across the carpet. A moment later, something touches his lips, causing a fresh bout of fear to flare up his spine, right along with the associated sound of distress spilling forth. |
| | |
| | "...or we can wait for your state to wear off naturally," Keith comments, conversationally. "Come on, the taste should be tolerable." Of the paralyse-heal, perhaps. Of the situation... not a chance. |
| | |
| | There's a moment of panic churning in Terry's gut - then a spark of rational assessment bursts out laughing with bitter venom at his own reaction. He's paralysed and Keith has a selection of blades to carve his innards out with should he so please - if death is his concern, surely there were more entertaining ways to go. Of course, that realisation prompts another bout of rage to flare up within him, jaw setting lightly for a moment of stubborn refusal to cooperate. |
| | |
| | On the other hand, he can hardly punch Keith in the face as long as he's paralysed. |
| | |
| | Bitterly, he relents, glowering at the furniture that happens to be in sight. It takes a moment for Keith to catch on that the contents of the flask he's resting against Terry's lower lip won't just spill to the ground if he tries to tip it, then he does, lightest tremble of tension in that arm of his that's keeping his victim off the ground. Some grotesque mixture of bitter and syrupy assaults Terry's tongue, but reflex works in their favour rather than against it, instinctive revulsion prompting a spasm that morphs to a swallow. Then the moment is over and instinct sent to its corner. The rest vanishes down his throat in a more orderly fashion. |
| | |
| | Cautiously, Keith lowers him back down onto the carpet. "Give it a few seconds," he comments, casually, rather unlike someone who'd just affectionately tortured his visitor out of some misguided prankster spirit. |
| | |
| | <color #008888>Mew gives the fingers of the trapped hand an affectionate nuzzle, bright blue eyes finding their way to Terry's face as he's set back down, watching him curiously. How was he going to react, she wonders? Would he run away in terror? Would he try to pretend it had never happened? Would he try to get revenge? There's something a little exciting about that possibility, though it would be a shame if anything terrible were to befall Keith, when he's the closest thing she's had to a kindred spirit in a long time.</color> |
| | |
| | <color #008888>Regardless, it seems she'll be finding out soon enough.</color> |
| | |
| | For a few moments, nothing happens, other than Keith rising fully off his cushioned, straddled seat, rolling his shoulders and smiling satedly - and yet, considerably more attentive than one might give him credit for, given the mildly drunk look on his face. |
| | |
| | Then, the effect that sets in is as if Terry's skin were choosing to curl, as if all that attempted motor control from the past subjective eternity were being caught up on simultaneously. His spine crawls as a controlled form of tension spreads out through him, though he holds himself still, like a coiled predator biding its time. 'Wait for it.' He grimaces, expression more fine-tuned now, casting a malevolent glare at the wall, breathing slowly, gathering himself both emotionally and physically. |
| | |
| | There was a certain urge to try and snap his hand to seize Mew by the tail, but it's doubly squashed - once by the rationale that as much as she's been an entertained bystander, a bystander is all she's been, really, a bit of fur to skin contact notwithstanding; and for two by the slightly sobering realisation that if he tried, Jagdish would probably eviscerate him. That latter thought is enough to barb a wire of nausea through his gut, robbing him of some of the psychological momentum he'd hoped to build up. |
| | |
| | Not worth it. None of the fantasies playing out in his head were worth it. If Keith so much as brushed against him one more time, though, it was so definitely going to be all excuse he needed to sock him one. Honestly, he doubted he'd be able to stop himself in such a situation - he's sure it would prompt a visceral panic and the fight or flight response that came with it... and since flight had previously proven impossible, fight was really the only adequate reaction. |
| | |
| | The fingers of both of his hands flex steadily and in a strong, guided motion, deliberately announcing his ability to move again, intending it as a non-verbal warning. The palms stem against the carpet a moment later, and with a sense of surreality permeating through his psyche, he pushes himself up. A slow breath is drawn, his posture held this way, giving Mew a chance to leave him be by herself, staring down at her - then he's pulling his legs under him and, should the Legendary still be attached to his hand, slides his left hand under Mew's form to pry her off in some semblance of a gentle gesture a little roughly delivered. |
| | |
| | "Feeling better?" Keith asks, sunnily. |
| | |
| | "...shut the fuck up, or I swear... I'll do something I'll regret," Terry comments through clenched teeth, balling his right hand into a tense fist, tone dripping with cold venom, volume of his voice nonetheless soft. |
| | |
| | After a moment's pause, Keith gives a sharp whistle. "Terry," he responds, clasping his hands against each other. "You're all in one piece. Are you sure you want to be quite so hostile about a harmless prank?" |
| | |
| | Terry... closes his eyes and forces his next breath to travel slowly. It does, though it mixes to equal degree with a near-intolerable tension. The audacity of that question had to be intentional - he can't imagine it's a genuine assessment, at any rate - and if so, he shouldn't let himself be played, not again. He's about through with being manipulated for his host's perverse entertainment. His other hand joins his right in being bunched to a fist, and for a moment of pure self-control, Terry simple stands there, letting his imagination vividly supply the reaction he'd rather be indulging in by impulse alone. |
| | |
| | Without paralysis to bind him, he wasn't afraid of Keith. He was probably stronger than the Kzye gym leader - honestly, he was probably stronger than any of the gym leaders, if he thought about it, [[character:Yarver Bakema|Yarver]] and [[character:Mortimer Terrell|Mortimer]] notwithstanding. He deliberately didn't turn to face Keith - seeing him smile would probably just push him over the edge he was currently dangerously balanced on. |
| | |
| | <color #008888>Mew puts up some resistance to Terry's attempts to pry her off his hand, but does ultimately release it. She drifts up into a float at about the level of Terry's head, off to the side, watching his reaction unfold with an active, engaged curiosity. There's so much rage there - contained, certainly, but it would be so easy for it to spill over the edge. If she were feeling particularly cruel, or if she weren't so fond of Keith, she might consider trying to see how easy it would be to push him over that edge... - but no, not today. Besides, just watching this unfold by itself is sure to bring some entertainment.</color> |
| | |
| | The wholly uncomfortable silence lingers a little longer - Terry's not about to try and pick up his shirt, it's too much motion, and he might work himself into more rage too quickly if he moves all too much, since it'll just make the moments when he wasn't free to all the more viscerally apparent; and Keith's clearly holding his proverbial breath, if not his literal one. Then the Kzye gym leader traps his lower lip between his teeth for a moment, only to dispel the silence with a sunny: "If you want to shower, the bathroom is over there." |
| | |
| | Terry resists the urge to cynically go through all tropes that blossom into existence as associations to that simple statement and derisively list them to Keith in sequence. Maybe it's the fact he's survived the day so far, but he's quite sure Jagdish doesn't want to lose his prospective new gym leader to Keith, and Keith knows that, and Keith, however wired for a certain callous, reckless stupidity as he is, doesn't seem to be outright embracing notions of suffering for himself. As such, it's unlikely he's going to re-enact Hitchcock, or route acid through the plumbing, or do anything else whatsoever now that Terry was free to fight him. |
| | |
| | Nonetheless, he's torn. It's a token of hospitality - that's frankly nothing he actually wants to accept from someone like Keith, ever again. On the other hand, he's sure that's the reaction Keith is expecting, and at least it's shaving a few cents off Keith's payroll if he allows himself a petulant, obnoxiously long, hot shower. He might even deplete Keith's warm water supply for the day - oh, wait, no, nevermind, not with a selection of fire pokémon to do his bidding. There's still something satisfying about that notion, though. |
| | |
| | In his own silence, he finds himself wrestling with the same question from before again: The purpose of it all. The purpose is all too clear, really, but he's having trouble accepting it. //Fun//? Keith made too much of a human impression to have that callous a disregard for his fellow human beings. Certainly, he'd proven he //did// have just that, but on an empathic level, amongst emotional considerations, it refused to mesh. It left the incident dangerously isolated, floating, already escaping the grasp of reality, like a particularly potent hallucination slowly being uncovered as what it is. Terry clings to it, grimacing, and the dissonance only furthers his anger - this is intentional. This is no coincidence - this is Keith's approach to people. A warm smile, a helpful air, a confidence refusing to announce the possibility of an abrupt change of tone. |
| | |
| | ...he had to get out of this room before the train of thought turned Keith into a target too difficult to resist. Exhaling tensely, pressing his lips to a thin line with far more pressure than necessary, Terry twists, trying to ignore as much of the gym leader's appearance as possible as his field of vision swerves by, only to stalk into the direction indicated, remembering enough of it from his peripheral vision not to make a complete fool of himself in the process. "Thank you for your touching concern," he hisses as he passes by. Time to use up all warm water, because fuck you, Keith. |
| | |
| | <color #008888>Mew tilts her head in curiosity, watching Terry fume for that long moment of silence. She drifts after him as he storms off towards the bathroom, for no better reason than because she can - but her progress is momentarily halted as the door is slammed in her face. She hovers thoughtfully outside the door for a moment, then turns away. No, she decides, she's had enough fun at Terry's expense for today - hopefully there will be other opportunities in the future.</color> |
| | |
| | <color #008888>Instead, she turns her attention back to Keith, zooming through the air to land on his shoulder, nuzzling his cheek. 'It's okay, Keith,' she's saying. 'I still love you.'</color> |
| |
| {{tag>[raw]}} | {{tag>[raw]}} |
