04-27-2010, 04:15 PM
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WC 535.
The tree fell, hitting the ground with a rough thud. As small cloud of dirt shot up from the slumbering bark, hovering momentarily around their heads before dissipating into the atmosphere, and back to the ground. Staring at the small sapling, it appeared that this one remained a little smaller than the one she had caught Niro with only moments before. It made sense really – the size s of the trees – they were relatively good wood, growing in a decent environment. They would definitely aid toward a decent birdcage. There was no doubt about that, none whatsoever.
Lost in thought, Lucia almost failed to capture the words of her companion. Thankfully, her auds twitched as the sound waves rattled against her drums; it awoke her back to reality, and she quickly covered up the fact she had momentarily been off the planet. There was no way he would know. “Production is good,” she replied simply, a blank tone and her eyes slowly traveling off the seedling and onto the male. She watched him carefully, studying – she wanted to know him inside-out, she wanted to see what made him tick. Curiosity was a pain – except when it killed that feline, of course. “What have you made whilst angry then?” She questioned him, feeding her inquisitive mind as though a chicken to seed. It never stopped devouring. She smiled to herself, but only for a second or two. For some reason she was amused by him – he seemed too sweet to be true. The idea of him angry seemed nigh impossible. All she could picture was a ball of fluff, running around in circles – the occasional yell of 'gr', and perhaps a seriously bad speed trip. It made her chuckle.
As she chuckled, a smile rose to the male's mouth. She returned the gesture – not wanting to make him think that she was being rude or disrespectful in any way. Her mind just had a mind of its own. That was the way it had always been, and she had no complaints about it either way; it kept her entertained. Flicking her tail behind her as she shifted her paws across the dirt, as though impatient to move along from the fallen tree – the stump glaring at her almost as though it had a life of its own. She could imagine it swearing at her, or perhaps crying. After all, it had just been beheaded... technically.
“You hate the sight of blood?” There was shock in her voice. She didn't know what to make of it. With her own personality being the complete opposite, it was strange to consider that any creature could hate blood. “Is that why you want to train birds?” The question was blunt, there was no point sugarcoating her concern. It seemed unnatural to dislike blood; it was a crazy idea. “So you don't have to see the blood? ...That's the best part!” Her words trailed off. There was a strange grin on her face; her mind dancing off in the world of dismemberment. Her pulse raced and the blood flowed. Oh, how she loved the thrill of the hunt.
WC 535.
The tree fell, hitting the ground with a rough thud. As small cloud of dirt shot up from the slumbering bark, hovering momentarily around their heads before dissipating into the atmosphere, and back to the ground. Staring at the small sapling, it appeared that this one remained a little smaller than the one she had caught Niro with only moments before. It made sense really – the size s of the trees – they were relatively good wood, growing in a decent environment. They would definitely aid toward a decent birdcage. There was no doubt about that, none whatsoever.
Lost in thought, Lucia almost failed to capture the words of her companion. Thankfully, her auds twitched as the sound waves rattled against her drums; it awoke her back to reality, and she quickly covered up the fact she had momentarily been off the planet. There was no way he would know. “Production is good,” she replied simply, a blank tone and her eyes slowly traveling off the seedling and onto the male. She watched him carefully, studying – she wanted to know him inside-out, she wanted to see what made him tick. Curiosity was a pain – except when it killed that feline, of course. “What have you made whilst angry then?” She questioned him, feeding her inquisitive mind as though a chicken to seed. It never stopped devouring. She smiled to herself, but only for a second or two. For some reason she was amused by him – he seemed too sweet to be true. The idea of him angry seemed nigh impossible. All she could picture was a ball of fluff, running around in circles – the occasional yell of 'gr', and perhaps a seriously bad speed trip. It made her chuckle.
As she chuckled, a smile rose to the male's mouth. She returned the gesture – not wanting to make him think that she was being rude or disrespectful in any way. Her mind just had a mind of its own. That was the way it had always been, and she had no complaints about it either way; it kept her entertained. Flicking her tail behind her as she shifted her paws across the dirt, as though impatient to move along from the fallen tree – the stump glaring at her almost as though it had a life of its own. She could imagine it swearing at her, or perhaps crying. After all, it had just been beheaded... technically.
“You hate the sight of blood?” There was shock in her voice. She didn't know what to make of it. With her own personality being the complete opposite, it was strange to consider that any creature could hate blood. “Is that why you want to train birds?” The question was blunt, there was no point sugarcoating her concern. It seemed unnatural to dislike blood; it was a crazy idea. “So you don't have to see the blood? ...That's the best part!” Her words trailed off. There was a strange grin on her face; her mind dancing off in the world of dismemberment. Her pulse raced and the blood flowed. Oh, how she loved the thrill of the hunt.