SweetCyanide

Maybe it was in the way she looked at him with eyes filled with bittersweet content, that a pain began to choke his chest. "Thank you, Pluto. For this, and for returning to us." Guilt. He is frustrated by the pain of this emotion. At his Lady's soft-spoken words of gratitude, his blood that is molten gold bounces against the glossy floor and shapes itself in an abstract movement before Varda, falling and receding into it's original liquid-like state and pools under the covers of his rugged garments. It coiled onto his arms and legs like snakes suffocating their prey. Perhaps it has been too long that he's already forgotten; that magic is not exactly ordinary in this land. Had he remembered, he could have taken care in not surprising Varda with such bewitching displays of his skill. Though, it appears Shirin is unsurprised by this show of gold. It's understandable, knowing that Pluto has demonstrated various forms of his magic for the Izora sibling in the past. Even then, his lips were pressing into a firm line. Somehow and somewhat, he felt the need to apologize for startling his Lady Hildebrand. If he took caution, maybe a gentler form would have been more suitable. “Perhaps we must start moving forward now, as all things must. Shirin, would you be so kind as to lead Pluto to his new quarters? ” "Yes, ah—of course, my Lady,” Then, as he knelt there with his head hung low, Shirin offers her hand before him, and though it does not show, he is doubtful. However, he gladly takes her hand into his, pouting at the thought of whatever was stained on her apron had transferred to his glove. When he stands straight, his lips curve into a gentle smile, closing his eyes as they step back and bow—briefly excusing themselves before their lady and smoothly leaving. The sounds of their footsteps and the jingle of Pluto's earring fill the void in their short silence. Upon hesitation, he attempts to place his hand on Shirin's shoulder, however, he recoils, and believes it not be appropriate. Instead, he wishes to ask of the circumstances of Lord Strom's death. He's heard rumors. Chirps from little birdies shouldn't be ignored. Moving to place his hands behind his back, Pluto once more opens his mouth to speak, "Shirin-" but only stops what he has begun. Shirin may not notice, but Pluto had choked. If he had been more careless, he could have gagged. In about a second, a sudden uprising of gold poured up his throat. It was as if something inside of him had prevented him to even mention Strom. He covers up this 'accident' by pretending to choke on his spit and cleared his throat. ".. Are you well? Does Lord Nai still wastes his paper? Surely, he has stopped hitting himself on tables."

"It's.. hot." "It's because you're right under the sun, dear." Quite literally they were, up in the sky and whatnot. Raine pities her precious familiar, having to fly her everywhere everyday with no end to their aimless travels, though it seems Merlin is pleased with these travels if he is rewarded. ".. It's getting very hot." "Yes, you said that already." Perhaps it has been a few couple of days after a chance meeting with a newfound group of friends. It surprised Merlin, to know now that Raine has actually acquired such feat. He knows that she has talked about a woman with red hair once, but a group of people? He was beginning to feel like a some kind of proud, reptilian father. Anyways, towing those thoughts aside, they were up in the air again, headed back to the continent that Raine had initially left. The wind whistles through her ears and into her gem-carved eyes, her hands that were once gripping onto Merlin's fur have now released lazily as they swung in the air. Perhaps they were a couple dozen—no, thousands of feet off the ground. From this height, Raine can see the magnificent continent of Renevatio. Normally, anyone would be sick from this perspective, but it seems as if Raine is already used to these kinds of heights. She leaned against the dragon's waving body back with skeptical confidence to further her luck. After a few seconds of balance, Raine sighed deeply. All this sunlight was going to burn her into a crisp. "I hear ghouls roam there." The witch hummed in thought. "Ah, yes, that is true. Harshal has said that their people have been turning into ghouls." "Tragic." Raine pushed herself up, hands resting on the coral-like horns growing from his neck. "Why do you sound sarcastic?" The dragon grumbled. "I was not trying to sound like it. I spoke in the wrong tone." Raine blinked and nodded silently, resting her head back against Merlin's fur-covered spine. "So why have you decided to come to Kalopsia, hm?" Her back straightened. "Umm-" "Certainly there must be another reason other than sightseeing." She grits her teeth, ".. Er, yes, of course! I hear Kalopsia is a great trading hub, no? Perhaps we can.. er-" A powerful gust of wind pushes her off the dragon's back, and she yells, her fingers gliding and grabbing onto Merlin's furs and pulls herself to him tight. "We are about to dive. Hold onto that thought, my lady." Flowery-pink locks formed into a bundle of a sharp mess, one hand on the dragon and the other reaching into her pocket. Raine growled something in her native tongue, but she wasted no time in working her magic as soon as possible. Wind blowing wildly against her, she crouched low and bent her knees against the fall. She casted a protective shield over her and Merlin in case any creature would attack them in the air. In the clouds, her magic gleamed like colorful bubbles and glass. @Aleksei

"Now that your shoulder's back in," Ram fell onto his chair, wheeling away as he crossed his leg. "I'll just ask Winter to do his magic thing to get you all fixed up." He breathes in some smoke and lets it pander through his soon-to-be-fucked-up-lungs-in-the-future for a worrying amount of time, grabbing a clipboard and scribbling down a record that reads incomprehensible writing. Currently, Marcus's arm was placed in a sling cast to help his shoulder. But when they first entered the med bay, the painkillers started to wear off when Ram started to pop his bone in. Needless to say, the new guy was in a lot of pain for the first few seconds. The doctor fixed his glasses and breathed out the remaining smoke left in him, then pressed the cigarette butt on his desk. Wanting some answers, he spins around quickly to face Marcus, who was probably a little doozy from the other dose of painkiller he was so kind to give awhile ago. Despite his inability to have good social skills, he starts small talk. "Listen - where the hell did you come from?" Then spins back to grab a file and hover over it. He squinted. No, that doesn't sound right. "Sorry, I mean, what's your story? It's not like you come across a guy on a horse in a place that rains acid all the time. Unless that's normal. We just, eh, crashed here." A pause. "Also, I'm Ram. Your name is....?" Then he cuts him off, "I'm guessing, by the way you look, Brad? Bob? Eh.." Ram's never good at this kind of thing. "Anyways, I'm asking because I want to know if you're going to pull a 180 and shoot me in the face with your gun." Another long pause. This time, he looked at Marcus dead in the eyes as he sat on the patient bed. "Mhm." . . . Anyone who's known Ram for a significant amount of time knows that he has a tendency to rush conversations to the point. Often, he doesn't talk at all unless he wants something, thus creating an incredibly awkward tension between Marcus and Ram. After, maybe, a couple of minutes of a very uncomfortable staredown, he drops the file on his desk and stands up like a spring, placing his glasses in his breast pocket and clearing his throat. He walks past Marcus and forgets entirely about his injury, slapping him on the shoulder. "I'm gonna go get Winter." Ramsey walks out of the medbay, and a few seconds later, rushes back in. "And my dog. I think my dog might be dead. Fuck. Fuck-"

Silent, he listens and observes - he pretends to slowly grasp the mood and dips his head low as if he's not noticed the tears beginning to form in her eyes. A part of himself wishes he hadn't brought it up; but it is because of Lord Strom that he has returned to the Hildebrands in the first place. In a way, he supposes it's cruel, to only think of returning home because of the murder of his Lord and nothing else: but in reality, he's always wished to come back, ever since he left. But he does not know this. That part of him has already been lost. A faint crack hums against under his glove. His hand flinches when it does so, the sudden pain leaving a broken face and an unexpected sense of relief. The layers of gold have finally finished melding his hand together, but the time and place was awfully awkward. So he is taken aback, somewhat hoping that Shirin, beside him, hasn't noticed a thing. Silently groaning, he tightens the glove and shifts his attention back to his lady, metallic eyes crashing against hers. “I wished you could have been there, in the days immediately after. We could have used your strength,” Pluto opens his mouth to reply, but ends up spouting nothing. Offering an excuse would leave such a bitter taste, and he'd rather not embarrass himself in front of his own lady and Shirin. So he kneels and presses his hand against his heart. "Forgive me, my lady," he winces, "though I arrived rather late, I'm here now to offer you my strength. And a gift." Then, as he stayed there kneeling, a line of gold travels from his boot and pools towards Varda. The gold rises up and forms like branches, growing a golden flower bud that blossoms and reveals a gilded music box in the center of the flower. It shines against the sun and reflects the room with light. "This is my.. condolence. And, er, my apology." Though Pluto knew he could've offered the box normally, but, knowing him, he prefers a much more.. dramatic display. "..For peace, and plenty."

Who wants us alive? Ram puffed a great deal of smoke through his throat that caused the air hard to breathe. Something was off about that robot; or, atleast he thinks it's a robot and not a weird-looking scrap of metal with a funny arm - but it seems that this baron he so happens to say wants their crew alive. He winced. This was sketchy. They were sketchy. Tall and ugly facing off Echo didn't sit well with him and how the rest of his crew looked. What, were they dropped in an acid bath or something? . . . Yes, they were and still are bathing in acid for the rest of their lives. Ram corrected himself and that made him feel stupid thinking about why the locals looked weird in the first place. In a weird way, a little part of him wanted to hope they were nice so they'd offer them a cool kid pass for free: just so he wouldn't be worried about having to deal with another hectic life-or-death situation while he was pointing a gun at some, guy. Gal, whatever the hell they're supposed to be. So when tall and ugly proposed: We're going to tow your ship to god knows where, we won't tell you, deal. Wait, deal? Echo and the crew members agreed to the Mace's crew out of any other viable options, which prompted a reluctant Ram to lower his sniper and puff out another cloud of smoke. He plucked the cigarette out of his mouth and flicked it at the direction of their negotiators. He scoffed and circled his shoulder, then questionably saluted back to the Darnell who saved their asses. The ramp shut, and Ram shot a sleazy glare at the stranger he happened to shoot down awhile ago. "Oh no, you don't," He interrupted him, "you're coming with me, pal. To the med bay." Ram stared at Marcus, smug. "Unless you still feel the, eh, drug?" He didn't allow him to answer that question, "Feel it or not - doesn't matter - med bay - let's go." Then kindly gestured for him to follow. "C'mon."

- Wait, the 'Cherry Boyz'? I thought we were going for Cherry Bom- NO, FUCK YOU, WE ALREADY DISCUSSED THIS. PLAGIARISM IS A TRASHY SIN. But like, does that mean Mugo's a boy too? I don't think she really cares. MUGO DOES NOT GIVE A SHIT. LOOK AT HER, NOT GIVING A SHIT. .. Oh. So, the 'Boyz' part of 'Cherry' is uh, is a metaphor? YES. IT IS A METAPHOR. YOU PEA-BRAINED CRACKHEAD. Hey! That hurt my feelings - you cold robotic bastard! LISTEN TO ME LAUGH EVILLY AS YOU SUFFER UNDER MY INSULTS. HA HA HA. -

“You!” Shirin points at Pluto like an accusing blade. Too blunt to pierce him. So he stands there, frozen, recollecting himself before a familiar face that glared daggers into his soul as if he was some sort of fiend. He parts his lips for a brief moment — to think of something to say — but he continues to freeze, mouth dropping open while they continued to exchange their own share of surprised blinks and stutters. “You—I—” Pluto glances at his coat, and to Varda, who was clearly amused, then to Shirin, who was obviously vexed. He places his palm against his chest with a soft mutter that expressed an innocent bewilderment. "Me..?" Why he was so taken aback by this sudden arrival was because; Shirin looks furious, the opposite reaction of what Pluto had predicted. Also, because of her appearance, he's noticed about how much memory of Shirin begun flooding in the back of his head. An unpleasant feeling, he believes, but because of her interruption, he may have yet to give the box some other time. “You bastard." Her words cause him swallow a lump in his throat. When she paces towards him with impatient steps, Pluto squinted and readied himself for a sudden jolt of pain. "How dare you show up here without saying anything beforehand.” Shirin holds him in a tight embrace, and Pluto supports her weight as she leaned forward with fatigue. He takes a step back to allow her to melt in his arms, despite his initial reaction perhaps a few seconds ago. The silvery man sighed deeply and rested his chin atop her shoulder. She smells unpleasant. He'll try his best not to say it to her face. Instead, he mutters something that could have him punched either way. "It seems you've missed me." He says it so briefly that Shirin already untangled herself from him. After she asks for Varda's forgiveness, she turns back to Pluto. He tightens his gloves and grits his teeth. Uneasily. "I will be back for as long as I am needed. I'm afraid I cannot assure my stay will be too long." He remains stern, even when he glances at Shirin. "I wont leave too soon, of course." Then, he brings his hand up to his mouth, diverting his gaze away as if avoiding eye contact. "I've yet to offer my.. condolences."

` UPDATED.

He wondered what excuse he had to offer. Ramsey crouched low atop the Casimir, becoming increasingly foggier to notice due to the pelting rain albeit the dangerous light in his hands. Woo-sah. Beaming like a hot rod, a rippling shot pierced the wind and exploded in a shower of dust, rock, and golem viscera. Ram watched and squinted through the scope as the freezing Golem struggled to light up and take a few steps forward - before falling to it's knees like a slowly-collapsing hunk of debris and finally, landing flat on half of it's face. He sighed into his speakers, (which probably amplified his breath) aimed his sights on the coming blue lights, and assessed the situation from a higher ground. From what he can guess - through the rain - is that he's helped shoot down the Golem who's been trying to pound the man dangling on a horse their way. And, assuming that he was friendly, (because it seemed that none of his crew attempted to shoot him) he took the chance to, well, shoot him himself. With painkiller, of course. Reloading his sniper with a special-grade piece of healthy ammunition, Ram shot him with some love. Along with it was a BANG that sounded louder and possibly slower than the rest of the shots called as the sharp painkiller found it's way whistling into the man's good shoulder with a bit of struggle. Assuming once more he wouldn't fall off the horse due to the split-second pain and impact of the shot, he turned his pelted gaze towards the strange threats that howled every second they came hurling around. A voice in the back of his head began to echo as he pulled the trigger again and again, reloading the magazines every now and then. Unconsciously, he begins to think; I thought this was some kind of penalty job. BANG. Weren't we going to hand out supplies, or something? BANG.

I'm not dead yet 👍

Looks like pulling out the big guns ended up exciting these pirates, an opposite effect Tommy was going for. She expected to, well, scare them away. With a chainsaw. But it ended up encouraging them to fight - a mistake on her part. Now that it was a stupid move, she's hiding behind a barrel, remembering never to bring a knife to a gunfight. And speaking of gunfights, she is hilariously bad with a gun. Finger kept loose on the trigger, Tommy scowled thinking about the mockery Ares would lose himself over. She could already imagine him rolling around, that little white bastard laughing himself to death - oh, she'll show him- A bullet whizzed past her ear, an explosion of splinters coming along with it. She was too terrified out of her ass to take a sneak peek and aim, so her hand came up like a whack-a-mole and pulled the trigger, narrowly missing twice before shooting the third one and hearing a comforting SHIT, which prompted her to hop out behind the barrel and dive in with her axe. Grip steady as it should be, the rust found it's way into the pirate's neck. The blood dripping from the blade made her steady grip slippery - her white jacket painted in a blissful amount of red. A moment of relief washed over her as she watched the goon drop dead - that moment quickly cast away once she made a cursory glance to her left and saw another pirate. This time, sprinting with a blade meant just for her. Obviously, she reacted by shooting him - then missing, then shooting again - and missing the second shot - and the third - until she said 'fuck it' and whipped out that gnarly pink chainsaw from the keychain on her belt. Staying low, Tommy lunged forward, starting up the saw after forcefully plunging it through her victim's abdomen. She felt every muscle and organ tense up against her - and like a hot knife through butter, Tommy ruthlessly ripped and tore, the warcry of Puppycat mixing with the rumbling screams of pain of a dead man whose stomach narrowly opened up. The sight of it was disgusting. The feeling of it, was absolutely great. Shrinking the saw back into a keychain, she stepped back and looked down at her crime against humanity. Tommy was covered in more blood now, having torn apart a man whose life she would have thought about sparing - and now has his entrails currently splattered against the greasy floorboards. But hands possessed by the devil, look at what she's done now. She let a shrill exhale pass out from her lungs; a breath filled with fatigue, guilt, and carnage. "Elias!" Shifting her body to the side and judging by a quick peripheral look and sound of voice, it appears she has found the endearing storyteller quivering behind - perhaps, one of the other crew members she hasn't properly introduced herself to yet. Sprinting at them like a maniacal bull was definitely not one of their own - a man whose grin twisting with every moment he neared closer with a sword in hand. Instinctively, Tommy reached for her gun- Until she was suddenly hit in the back of the head with a handle - followed by an amused duet of hearty laughter, then punched in the face and pushed off the ship without a second thought. "SHI-" Tommy fell into the ocean that night. Unable to register what the hell just happened - her primal instinct began to scream - her brain telling her that she is in the water. And by utter luck, Tommy does not know how to swim. Tommy pulls out a small knife and stabs it into the side of the ship, beginning to scream and beg for Gaia's mercy, hoping someone have heard her panicked screeches over the bullets and blades - her elvish dialect swerving in from time to time while she clung on for dear life as the tides drowned her again and again, struggling to keep up with the pace of the Wet Dog. Meanwhile, Ares was still out cold.

Smoking pipe in his right hand, Raccoon sharply inhaled through his nostrils as loud and as long as he can - the snorted air garnering his friend's grimace as she crouched low on all fours - inconspicuously perched atop a roof's ledge. After about a few seconds of annoying the hell out of Mugo, the shaman suddenly paused with a chest pounding with pollution, cheeks filled to the brim with ethereal smoke. What came out of his mouth next was not a slur of self-induced case of the jitteries, but a thick ring of smoke dramatically fading into the breeze. He went on suddenly on a coughing fit, having sucked in a bug - and begun wheezing black smoke through his facial orifices. It took him more than a few seconds to get rid of the itch in his throat, the cloud of unhealthiness surrounding his vision and ability to balance on the ledge. Right beside the semi-aquatic 'imp', he rolled up his sleeves and fixed his glasses. With a posture proud and stout, he deepened his voice incredibly low. "Do you smell that?" Asked a husky Raccoon, whose question was directed at Mugo. In reply, she yawned. Closing his eyes in contemplation, he placed his hand upon her head, patting her slowly. "It's the smell of dange- AH-" He yells in surprise when Mugo nearly bit his hand off, reeling away and pausing a few seconds - then cleared his throat to regain his low voice. "It's the smell of danger." Suddenly, Raccoon dramatically whipped his head to the side with a handsomely furrowed gaze, intensely focused eyes focused toward the direction of; WAK. The WAK. He doesn't know exactly what WAK stands for, but the spirits have told him, and they have told him, that it is time. For WAK. He shifts his attention toward the red glowing symbols on his skin, watching his tattoos dance in a show of flickering lights. "And what do we about.. danger?" He asks again, snapping his fingers and halting the magic in his wrist. This time, Mugo picked her ear. "We approach danger like we are danger. But we're.. like, more dangerous! The plan is, we head down there, go say hello to those dudes down there like; Oh, we're so cool, check out how cool we are - you guys definitely need us - and then they're all like; Aw man, you guys are so cool, you should definitely come with us and kick some vampire butt. And then we're all; Hell yeah man! And when get in the WAK, and we go all KAPOW! BAM! KA-PHOOEY! PEWPEWPEW!" Raccoon puffed the smoking pipe, then exhaled a large amount of smoke through his mouth. "You get it, right? My awesome plan? .. We're so gonna wing this." He glanced beside him. "Right, Mugo?" Mugo has disappeared. ". . . Mugo?" Mugo was down there. She left Raccoon halfway through his questionable speech, having jumped to another roof and landed on the concrete with a forward roll. It was getting past her bedtime, and well, she wanted to get this over with so she could sleep. The entrance was decorated by a mess of dead men painted on the concrete, their blood flowing through the cracks. The atmosphere brought by these deaths has dragged the temperature lower - something Mugo somehow appreciated. The air's been stuffy all night, it was nice to get a breather every now and then. But, well, she's not too happy about the dead guys. Hopping to a severed head not too far from where she was standing, she crouched down and decided to do a little inspection despite her initial response by sticking her tongue out and cursing in mandarin. A group of people approaches while she continues to examine a face of a dead man. Drained? Check. Teeth marks? Check. Possibly consumed by none other than a vampire? Check. Does it taste like it was consumed by a vampire? . . . Her blue tongue hovered over the bite marks, and slowly, she brought the severed head near- "MUGO, NO!" Raccoon swatted the head out of Mugo's hands, frantic. "Do NOT eat people! Bad! Wh - hey!" She gave him a rather annoyed look. "Don't look at me! You just tried to lick a dead dude!" A silent pause. Mugo brought a finger up to her face and found that it had a residue of blood left on it. Raccoon suddenly gasped, incredibly offended. "Don't. You. Dare." In perhaps a few seconds of time, Raccoon would have jumped on Mugo like trying to save your dog from swallowing a sharp bone. He would have, if it wasn't for the arrival of the rest of the group seemingly watching them from quite a short distance. The shaman's jaw dropped at the sight, of two beautiful women. And their lovely friend too, of course. His eyes blessed, he almost felt like crying. Witnessing double blondes at a place and time like this? Pretty blondes? Bless Mother Gaia. Almost immediately, he stood up, grabbing Mugo by her hood and pulling her up like the tiny midget she is. He rested his elbow on the top of her head, flaunting a handsome pose, then flaunting a dangerously smug grin to the pair of women that had him internally screaming. When Mugo sucked on her bloodied finger, Raccoon suddenly cleared his throat. "Ladies. And ehrm, dude. Buddy, guy, man. How - how's it, uh, going?" @Stumbler @Wade @amenities @bfc @Mag