(no subject)

[crimsonobsurca.livejournal.com]

Holy... [Looking down at some recently developed photos] Ow. Ewwww. Oh ew, broken neck. Ewwwww, someone shot him. Man, gruesome deaths.

... and they look like him. Man, I hope you're okay, because I still need to kill you for this. [looks at another photo] ... UGH.

Comments

[crimsonobsurca.livejournal.com]

I just like your wings, okay?

[engel]

Very well. You burn them first.

[crimsonobsurca.livejournal.com]

Do you have a lighter or...?

[engel]

[ Points to the ground. ] Put them there.

[crimsonobsurca.livejournal.com]

[Puts them down]

[engel]

[ Waits for Luke to move out of the way before mumbling to himself and... ] Explosion!

[crimsonobsurca.livejournal.com]

Holy shit!

[engel]

[ Mmm. Fried photos. ] ...there.

[crimsonobsurca.livejournal.com]

Holy shit.

[engel]

...are you done yet?

[crimsonobsurca.livejournal.com]

Go boom without explosives.

[engel]

It is called a fonic arte.

[crimsonobsurca.livejournal.com]

Don't have those. Wow.

[engel]

Clearly. If you wish to touch my wings, you had best do it now.

[crimsonobsurca.livejournal.com]

[hesitantly reaches out, petting them]

[engel]

... [ Sets his jaw and remains still. ]

[crimsonobsurca.livejournal.com]

[nearly hugs them, trying to take comfort in something not totally weird and explosive]

[engel]

[ Shifts to look back at him, wings twitching occasionally. ]

[crimsonobsurca.livejournal.com]

[obsessively molests his wings, starting to calm a bit]

[engel]

[ Hisses, leaning against a wall. ]

[crimsonobsurca.livejournal.com]

[Smiling a bit, burying his face in the feathers, then sneezing]

[engel]

...don't tell me you're allergic to my wings.

[crimsonobsurca.livejournal.com]

[just makes a noise, face still in his feathers]

[engel]

[ Runs a hand through his hair with a sigh. ]

[crimsonobsurca.livejournal.com]

[Plays with the feathers nearest to his back]