sixwordstories | (no subject)

Everyone? That's arrogant of 'em.

They are by nature, arrogant. It is like an illness for them.

Incurable, is it?

So it would seem. Terrible thing, that is.

They fear us.

Well...maybe you.

*eyes Marwig.*

*eyes Percy*

And they don't fear you? That could be an advantage. To appear so weak and harmless.

I'm 5'6" with a bad attitude...

Fear? No. Dislike, most likely.

Do I care? Fuck no.

They fear what they do not understand, petit Anglais.

They fear falling prey to us...or becoming one of us.

Was there any indication that I worried about fear or not? Was there? No?

Well then, I suppose that wasn't the subject at hand, was it?

*sulks*

'Worried' can be the same as 'fear', no?

*growls, frustrated*

English is not my mother tongue, monsieur Percy. Shouting at me does not make me understand any better.

Seriez-vous plutôt tenter français? Je parlent suffisamment bien, peu stupide grenouille.

*rolls eyes* Je suis ni peur, ni inquiets. J'étais simplement curieux!

*growls again and steps closer, pointing his finger at Percy*

Vous ... Vous êtes cruel pour moi, monsieur! Je n'ai rien fait pour mériter tel irrespect. Je ne faisais que tenter d'aider!

Et cesser de l'appeler moi une putain de grenouille, vous sanglante anglais git!

Edited 2008-01-27 21:24 (UTC)

*slaps the boy's finger away before glowering at him.*

Temper, Temper, stupide garçon.

You're insults are as sad as you.

*glares at him for a moment, then backs down, intimidated by the older vampire (even though he'd never admit it)*

Ouch.

My insults? You think yours are any better, English? You call me frog because I am French? This too seems rather sad, non?

I call you a frog because you look like one, boy. Be thankful I don' call you worse.

*mouth drops open*

I...I do not!

*moves closer to him, his head cocked to one side*

For true I am not as pretty as you...

*reaches out and touches a wisp of dark hair*

But I am pretty, nonetheless.

Is pretty supposed to mean something to me?

*blinks and steps back*

Non. But you said I looked like a frog. Frogs are not pretty. Therefore I cannot be a frog.

You do look like a frog. An' I never said I found you pretty. *rolls eyes, and turns to walk off.*

*huffs*

Fine! I do not want you to find me pretty! And if I am a frog, then you are a...a...

A pussy! Le chat terrible!

Oh...A cat. How terrible, what shall I do. *keeps on walking.*

*watches him go, muttering*

I do not look like a frog...

They're not dead enough.

TinMan....You again.

I really do have to wonder, what is it that compels you to speak with me? Or anyone else like me?

I'm...hurt.

I thought we were friends.

Oh, too bad you don' bleed.

Friends? Depends on how you care to define it really, then.

Well, we keep seeing each other. And we don't try to kill each other.

Pretty chummy in my book.

...You're tempting fate, in mine.

I recall your hand around my neck...not that 'chummy' in my mind.

Better than my teeth in it.

I find bitin' to be rather erotic, really. Who's to say it isn' better, TinMan?

I'd say the dead would object.