vatheon | Never too much of a good thing.

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Never too much of a good thing.

Who: Summoner and ANYONE.
When: Friday | Late Afternoon
Where: Near the plaza, on the ground, watch out.
Style: Action
Status: OPEN.

[Ugh he's-

he's going to be sick.]

[Laying back to the ground, fully clothed but feeling so overheated that he almost wants to just- change that. His wings are on the ground under him, flat, laying like this is one of the two ways he can actually lay afterall, on wings or not. They're neatly folded behind him though, minimal chance of stepping on them, but hey it can happen. You're more likely to hit his massive horns with a swiping step past him as he lays there.]

[But the ground is so nice and cold on his back through his open back shirt, and his stomach feels liks it's going to just, explode, taking him and everyone around him with him.]

Ugh-

[Worth it though, even with the groaning here and there, and the terrible pain in his gut. He forgets where he is, probably still near the plaza, yeah, plaza... He opens his eyes, vision a little blurry, ow, sky is still bright, shutting them again, staying on the ground where he is.]

[Still worth it.]

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[His eyes narrow, still grinning with remnants of his laughter still playing on his lips. He lifts his head, revealing the thin gash on his throat and points to it.]

Better to keep your motherfucking instruments to YOUR motherfucking self if you ain't plannin' on spilling. [GHB, on the other hand, is itching to taste some blood that isn't his own...]

Tch- and rude too. You know you uh, catch a lot more bees with honey than vinegar right, chucklefuck?

[Is that supposed to be sexy?]

Don't all matter when a brother's just going for one motherfucking bee that reacts better to the tang of vinegar.

[Yes..... somehow. He clacks his teeth a few times, running his tongue over them as they remain bared almost threateningly.]

[A laugh, rolling a shoulder and rubbing the back of his neck.]

Awww- you're just saying that.

[Pauses, just watching Summoner for a moment with a half-grin still on his face.]

Maybe.

Oh yeah, so you do want something then. [Puckers his lips a little.]

My big fat man missed me, eh?

[He sneers- while being called fat doesn't bother him, it becoming a nickname annoys him to no end.]

Of motherfucking course a brother always wants something. Went through all the trouble of getting cut up and dealing with your motherfucking sass, didn't I?

Trouble? Tch- you act like you don't like getting hacked up. [Raises a brow.]

You're a lot of really shitty things, but a liar's not usually one of 'em.

"Liar" is such a strong motherfucking word. Don't let a brother get all into the little nuances of enjoying a bit of steel carving into this motherfucking skin, yeah? Shit can get pretty wordy- unless you're into that sort of thing.

Think we're both a bit familiar with 'wordy', eh? [A sigh, moving away and standing straight up, he pulls in a deep breath, hoping his stomach stops hurting so much because he's a bit- aware of where this might be going.]

[Aware and not really too against it either.]

You tend to lose a uh, a lot of your "eloquence" during certain activities though, big guy.

[He stands up straight away, tilting his head at him with an expectant look.]

That shit all up and cramps a brother's style. You know how it is, heh. Nothing eloquent about stuffing you so full that you can't even all get a proper motherfucking breath out... right? [And now he's leaning forward, eyebrows raised, teeth bared through his grin.]

Stuffing me full? Ah ha- [He feels a slight churn in his stomach, but not so much disgust- as it had been before- something a bit more carnal. There's even a warmth that comes over him, dragging his eyes up and over the wide stature of the other troll. A troll he really- should feel so strongly for, someone he really should just- kill, want to kill- but something about that raw power, and how GHB just does he own dirty work-

It does something to him. That disgust he feels is something more than that, it's a kind of respect- in a way.]

[Summoner feels a chill slip down his spine, brows lowering, stepping back once- twice, a should shrugging.]

Oh yeah?

[The little once over is quite mutual, as he lets his eyelids lower while invading every spot on the Summoner's body with his gaze. His desires to kill are just as strong, so closely associated with his more sexual of desires - they tended to go nearly hand-in-hand, sometimes. But like the Summoner, this bizarre sense of respect mixed in with his hatred for the scumblood keeps him on his toes. Keeps him curious. Wanting more from him even after taking all that he can.

He follows, taking a wide step forward to try and crowd the Summoner back. Or at least get into his personal space.]

Yeah. Take a nice long minute to let that image all sink into that motherfucking rusted thinkpan of yours. [Yes, prepare yourself a little bit for it.]

Huh- [A breath, trailing off, moving back a little more, in that nice and narrow side street he had collapsed in earlier, his back comes to some firm eventually, putting himself in such a position, wings flattening behind him, opening a little, but not enough to make it seem like he was going to leave. He's- nervous, he feels it squirming in his gut, that anxiety. But with how his heart picks up, how he licks his lips, locks his eyes- yeah, preparing himself.]

Think I'd like it to uh- sink in somewhere a little more private, eh?

[The narrowness of the alley only makes the highblood's figure look all the more looming and claustrophobic, but he doesn't back away even when Summoner suggests a location change.]

Aw, can't stand the motherfucking idea of baring all to no motherfuckers passing by? Too motherfucking inconvenient for those motherfuckers to overhear you scream and beg for a brother? [He leans a hand against the wall right in the space above Summoner's head next to the curve of his horn, and scrapes his claws against the wall, leaving a decent trail.]

[The Grand Highblood doesn't really need help looking looming, he does well for that on his own, except maybe- when Summoner's a few few feet off the ground flying above. Okay, then GHB just looks tiny and hilarious like some painted up tribble.]

Let's be honest here- You uh- kinda make a scene. And I'm sure they don't want to deal with all the mess you tend to just- leave behind. [A brow raise, twitching from the rather unenjoyable sound coming from claws on brick right near his ear.]

And indigo thing, I know, leaving a mess- heh, like some kinda wiggler.

[The scraping turns to metallic clicking as he taps them against the wall.]

Hey, sometimes a brother' just gotta leave his mark no matter where all up in the motherfucking place it is. [Leans in close, nearly nose to nose Besides... motherfucker looks real good as a mess, yeah?

[The hand drops heavily from the wall to Summoner's shoulder, clamping down on it hard and curling his fingers around into the back of it.]

[Summoner feels a swell in his chest and a plunge in his stomach. Fingers curl on his shoulder and he's a mix of anxious and excited.] Heh- [A distant sound, he glances towards the grip, his lips curled in a half cocked, nervous sort of smile. Lysunder's head is still bowed when he looks up, his untouched shoulder shrugging up a bit before he raises that same arm and hand.]

Well uh- [A laugh, lifting his hand up and sliding the claw of his thumb nail into the deep slit still bright with indigo blood. He pushes it in deep, grazing the point over the flesh, coaxing fresh blood raise to the split surface.]

Guess you convinced me. But only if you take me some where nice first. [His nervous expression getting a little more confident, shoving his claw in hard.]

[He lets out a hiss when claws dig back into the still aching gash on his neck, swallowing hard as blood seeps out. His own excitement starts to build, eyes widening and teeth baring at him in a threatening gesture.]

Then best keep all hands, feet and motherfucking wings in the motherfucking inside the vehicle.

[Because now his other hand is going over to grab Summoner by the waist, the one on Summoner's shoulder dragging down to follow suit. Claws from both hands dig into his skin and draw beads of orange blood. He snarls, hoisting him off the ground and crushing him close, stomach to chest.]

Where to, motherfucking princess?

Shit- wh- [Suddenly tensing, hands moving to grip at the Highblood's shoulders, his body crushing up against him. The gesture kind of freaks him out, very aware of the lack of control he suddenly has but- there's this really odd feeling where he- know it'll be all right? All right as in, he knows what this is, what's going to happen, that he won't die or- that it won't be more than he's willing and wants to handle.]

[It's a really odd feeling he's not sure how to interpret, but his heart's beating fast, and there's this rush he gets from fear, despite knowing- for the most part- that it'll be as he expects it. Knowing how far it could without exactly how far it'll go.]

[Lysunder grinds his teeth, hands clenching tighter, moving up to cling into his hair and enjoying the cool feeling of the strands more than he should, head bowing down near the Highblood's shoulder.]

Princess ah huh, where- where ever, just hurry it up and remember to stay in the 'prince' roll, all right? I know charming can be- [A breath, laughing under his breath.] Not really your style, but keeping in character's important to me.

Oh, heh. Don't you even worry your pretty little shitty motherfucking head all about my princely mannerisms, motherfucker. I'll be ALL kinds of gentle that your kind all up and deserves.

[He breathes in deep, grinning wider at the scent of his blood through his skin and clothes. Hearing it pump through his veins as his heart pounds only makes him imagine the sludge shooting around inside excitedly, and he finds his mouth watering.

His head tips back just a touch as Summoner's slimmer fingers grip onto his hair, marching deeper into the forest to find their usual sparring spot, usually void of any unwanted visitors. He knows the amount of unsaid trust the Summoner puts in him- hell, if he didn't trust him, he would've flown off. Stabbed him in the neck or shoulder and just checked out. Each time he stays with the highblood during even their most violent of meet-ups, he feels his reassurance and confidence grow that this is something that he couldn't live without.

He needs this motherfucker, as much as he hated to admit it. He needs to hate and fight, struggle for dominance in the way he only knows how and still have a bit of a challenge. Sure, there are others who could fill that void for his need for a good fight, but none of them struck any emotions on a deeper level. These two generals had faced-off on the battlefield, and their desired to best each other had sparked even back then- and the flame hasn't died yet. He gets a feeling that this flame will be harder to extinguish than he had ever imagined.]

[Blackest fade to black ever. Fade to blackest.]

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Never too much of a good thing.

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