|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Tue Aug 25, 2015 8:48 am
 |
|
|
|
Poeias had finally wiped all his tears, and with his newfound determination he jumped right into helping the rebels. His new mission now was to move the Mother Grub and her brood to a safe place. He'd never seen a real life Mother Grub before, and it was kinda humbling to a lowly farm boy like Poe! She looked so majestic and amazing... to think she was the future of his species was truly amazing! He grinned, looking around at the others who were helping... Several of the rebels, including his new friend Maneki, had left to draw the eye of the royalists away from them. So there was still a few left, like some pretty older girls, and some injured people, and this stoic looking greenblood. He looked very professional, like some kind of scientist (despite being covered in blood and soot, like most people). He was probably someone important, and a good person to talk to. Poeias stood next to him, his lusus quietly following behind. "Wow, the Mother Grub is pretty cool, huh?" he said, reaching out to pat her side gently with his robotic hand. He noticed some of the screws had come out of his hand, and the panelling was dented and scuffed in a couple of places. Oh... he'd have to get that replaced before it came straight off and he was left without a hand. "What were the Queen's army gonna do with the Mother Grub? Do you know?" he wondered aloud. They wouldn't hurt her, would they? Poe paused a moment before realizing he was being rude. "Oh! I'm Poeias, and I'm kinda new here..." he said, introducing himself with a goofy smile. Melancholies Here comes tiny green and full of puns, here to bother big green and full of snark! |
 |
|
|
|
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Aug 25, 2015 6:26 pm
|
|
|
 |
To say Muerte had a lot on his mind was an understatement. Thoughts and questions and musings from the battle were floating around in his thinkpan, trying desperately to realign themselves. It wasn't a hard decision when Byakko brought up the plan of splitting up; of course he'd stay with the grub, that was why he was here in the first place anyway.
And despite the exhaustion of the trip, Muerte at least found some time to think. It was noisy, but he was so particularly deep in thought that he couldn't really care; the mewls of the wrigglers were a far cry to him, and the quiet tired chatter of the Initiative members was a low lulling mumble that he couldn't parse right away. No; there were more important things going on, better things to dwell on.
At the moment, he found himself curious of their leader and her mutant pink blood. He had, of course, never seen such a thing, nor would he have ever dreamt of it. Meeting someone of a color that fell out of the spectrum? Of course he'd heard of such abominations, but for there to be one right under his nose... it was interesting.
Not that he really thought Byakko as an abomination, of course. He merely used the term in the structure of society that he was raised in. The pinkblood was enigmatic to him still, but she also had a certain charisma that demanded respect. Muerte didn't dislike her, not particularly, but to say that he'd lay his life down for her like some of these fools... well, he definitely wasn't there either. Mostly he was just enthusiastic about the opportunity to experiment and learn from such a rarity.
Muerte didn't notice at first that the small child next to him was actually speaking to him, and it wasn't until he heard the greenblood introduce himself that he actually snapped out of his thoughts, peering down to look at the child with a what the ******** do you even want sort of expression. He wasn't one for small talk, and especially not with stupid children.
He was about to bite back some retort when he realized he hadn't actually been listening to a damn thing Poeias was saying, but it didn't really matter either. His eyes caught the robotic hand. Instantly his mouth curved into a sneer; what absolutely terrible quality. It wasn't even the fact that it was falling into a state of disrepair; everything about it looked so wrong to the discerning eye of the doctor, and he couldn't even bring himself to focus on anything other than the fact. The perfectionism burned at the back of his throat like an iron.
"What the hell is that." the words came out as a short huffy scoff, obvious that he was ignoring just about anything else that had come out of Poeias' mouth. "Don't touch anything with that, it's an absolute insult. Why would you even bother to try and utilize an obvious piece of garbage like that?"
purplerosesbeauty snark more like bonafide a*****e
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Aug 26, 2015 4:42 pm
|
|
|
|
At the terse voice, Poe flinched his hand back automatically. He felt the green heat of his blood rising to his face in embarrassment for being reprimanded, even though he didn't quite understand what he had done wrong yet. He didn't want to insult anyone! "W-what, do you mean my hand?" Poe asked, and examined it closer where he wasn't so blind, and although it wasn't in the best state it was still a serviceable hand he got from a lowblood with a pretty good grasp at robotics and machinery. Not perfect or anything, but definitely not garbage! "It's only messed up because of the fight! I need to find some extra screws and maybe replace a few of these dented parts..." he said, thinking aloud and poking some of the holes for the missing screws. Although his current mechanic was ok, she wasn't a professional or anything like that, but he didn't see anything wrong with it. He was just a shepherd and didn't need anything super fancy like the real mechanics had. Was this guy a robotics expert? Maybe he saw something he didn't (literally, haha). "What's wrong with it, anyway?" he asked, somewhat curious and somewhat indignant, cradling the robotic hand in the fleshy one. Melancholies ok sorry this is short i couldn't think of anything else for poe to say besides what???? (bc its not like he saw any of muerte's faces) |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Sep 17, 2015 11:54 am
|
|
|
|
"Only because of the fight?" Muerte inquired sarcastically, snooty, though a part of him wondered about the battle. He hadn't seen this kid there, let alone on the Initiative's side. It was true that he hardly knew everyone in the group, but he at least recognized a good most, and being around Aprife usually meant he'd have some inkling about everyone, even if the information was second hand. He just tended to pay more attention when he was with, y'know, the head of intelligence.
Muerte sighed, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. Why was this kid even trying to talk to him anyway? When he made all those scornful remarks about having to babysit the morons in this rebellion, they at least weren't children. Now he was legitimately babysitting and he wondered where the hell he even went wrong. Well whatever.
"It's trash." he said matter of factly, arms crossed. "Anyone with the right know how could do so much better." which was the rough equivalent of I could do so much better. "If it were me, I'd just scrap the thing and remake it completely."
Ah, well, he was supposed to be helping out in the group, right? He'd only been helping out on the medical side; fixing up dings and bumps, doing some impromptu things ever since they started running. When had he sat down and tinkered around with his love of robotics? It'd been a while for sure. In the same breath, his mind came back around to who the hell is this kid. Muerte couldn't help but feel paranoid at this point, even though this was just a ******** child. He wouldn't offer his services for free, not outside of the Initiative where he was already getting paid to do so.
"I suppose it makes sense that you would fail to recognize that, anyway..." he relented only slightly. Ever since the Errade fiasco, Muerte made a slight attempt at keeping himself reigned in, even though it rarely worked if at all. It would still probably be better for him if his comrades (if he could call them that) didn't see him berating a small child over something he obviously couldn't control. Good on you Muerte. A+ doctor.
purplerosesbeauty LENGTH ISN'T A PROBLEM so long as I got stuff to reply to >:9
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Oct 20, 2015 2:37 pm
|
|
|
|
He looked down again, feeling embarrassed. Once again he found himself glad no one could see his tears behind his large, obnoxious horns. "Well... maybe not just the fight," he conceded. His mechanic did kind of hate him, so maybe she made it really terrible on purpose? For a moment, he was quiet. Was this guy really being mean or was Poe just not understanding him? He was just trying to make friends! "Oh wow... uh. Do you know a lot about robotics? I probably have some good jokes about that..." he said, although he was a bit shaken up still and couldn't think of anything good right away about that particular topic. Maybe some jokes would make him feel better anyway! If they didn't help the teen, at least Poe would enjoy telling them. "Oh but I do have a lot of good jokes. How about... I wasn't originally going to get a spongeclot transplant, but then I changed my mind! Or um. What kind of crime is committed when a bird is attacked? A featheral offense! I like those ones..." Wow. It really was kinda tense talking to this guy... even Poe could tell that much. He didn't even learn his name! What was he going to do, if he was trapped with the rebels and they didn't even like him? He bit his lip and frowned, nervously playing with his hand. "Maybe..." He started unscrewing the metallic hand, and pulled it from his wrist, vaguely holding it out towards the other greenblood. Felt weird with just the one hand. "If I give you a hand, maybe you can give me one!" He smiled weakly, and pulled the hand back after a while. "Uh okay that's just a joke mostly... because I need to still use that until we finish with the, um. Mother Grub. But... maybe later. I could help you if you needed anything! Really... " He started screwing it back into place. "I just want to be useful. I ended up on this side, and it's not like I can go back... so you guys are all I have." He wouldn't cry again. Not anymore. Melancholies after two hundred years, a reply. hope its good wink |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Nov 06, 2015 11:38 pm
|
|
|
|
A featheral offense!
Muerte was staring forward again, eyes intensely focused on something that wasn't there. They practically bulged behind his glasses. When Poe held out his robotic hand as a joke, it went entirely ignored, as did the rest of his words.
Had Muerte more empathy to parse the situation, he may have understood Poe's desperate plea for friendship, compassion and acceptance. Perhaps if he were a kinder troll, he could be the one to extend that figurative branch, even though he himself was a new tree recently rooted in the rolling basket of this Initiative land. Together, they could have figured out all these mysterious secrets to life, not alone, but as some sort of joint unit. Friends. No one would have to be alone.
Today wasn't that ******** day because this goddamn kid was spewing the most god awful puns at him. ******** couldn't be that easy. It couldn't be just shitty puns, or drab jokes. Because there had been one, one in that sprawl of garbage that Muerte actually found ******** funny. It was, for lack of a better term, a true featheral offense.
"You really need to learn a time and a place." Muerte huffed, folding his arms. "Here we are, running for our lives, and you find it fit to just...?" His hand was motioning vaguely.
He sighed, almost as if he had given up with talking to Poeias. Woe to the child that attempted to forge an acquaintance with Muerte Perist. Except...
"If you keep it up, you're going to make things absolutely... hawkward."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Nov 24, 2015 7:49 am
|
|
|
|
He twisted his wrist around, feeling if he properly reconnected his hand. Poeias could still flex it, his fingers twitching, so... he did it well enough. Good. The other greenblood was quiet, not even looking at the child, not that he would have really been able to tell. Poe began to get scolded again, and he just didn't get it. Poe thought jokes helped tense situations, lightened the mood! Made trolls happy, even if they were running for their life, and... well... maybe he just didn't really understand the gravity of their situation. Poe was just a dumb kid, after all. He heard a sigh. But... hawkward. The phrase immediately caught Poe's attention, and he turned to the older greenblood, a smile spreading on his face. He... he replied with a joke! He liked the bird puns! Oh man, and Poe had a couple of those, perfect for this situation.
"Haha! Well... I didn't want to birden you guys with owl of my probwrens." He grinned, bouncing up and down in place. He finally figured out how to make friends with this guy, and he was feeling quite determined to... well, maybe get some positive feedback from him? That was a very reasonable expectation. "I've just been kind of winging it now..."He couldn't be as fowl as he seemed if he liked his jokes, right? Melancholies does he like bird puns because he's a quack |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Feb 15, 2017 1:41 pm
|
|
|
|
"Intent or not you're doing a fine job of it." He huffed, arms still decidedly crossed. "Regardless, we simply cannot let your grimy useless appendage rust away like that any longer. It's embarrassing. I'm embarrassed for you." He sounded genuinely distressed about this, but for all the wrong reasons.
"If I'm going to associate myself with a group, it reflects rather poorly on myself if the other members look like—" he paused, looked down at Poe, and then let his silence speak for him.
"Of course, that has to occur sometime after this whole debacle is settled. I'm sure I can find some menial tasks for you to preform to make up for it." If, you know, they didn't die. But Muerte wasn't planning on dying; whether Poe was or not was his own prerogative.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
