sixwordstories | (no subject)

Why don't y'go cry me a river.

Hey, do I look like the kinda guy that wants to give a shit that my former job is fucking shit up?

Shit, I can't even say that without...my fucking conscience attacking me. Me. trying to act better. Gaia's saggy tits, someone gag me with a fucking spoon.

[ Han popped his head out from under the table as if summoned, holding an actual, literal, honest-to-goodness spoon. The Ragabash looked from one wolf to another, then shook his head once, as if to say 'No? Are we not doing the thing?' then disappeared back under the bowels of the table from whence he came, doing the gods knew what. ]

First of all, Gaia's tits are a fucking delight, you ungrateful swine. I'm sorry yer former life as a murderous psychopath is harshing your chill.

[What the actual...? Kevin would like to pay attention to Oni, but he has to take one look under the table after Han.]

Have you seen the state of climate change lately? Fucking holes opening up in the arctic? They're definitely starting to sag.

Besides, sweetcheeks, what's harshing my chill is the fact that I have fucking bats pushing me to do something and I have no fucking clue what it is or how I'm supposed to fucking accomplish it with Cujo the fucking rabid werewolf hunting me day and night.

[ The table's wobbly! He's trying to fix it! ]

[Oni opened her mouth, ready to argue, then closed it again-- Goddamnit, he had a point.]

I understood that those were words, but you made no fucking sense just then.

Bats. Also Bat, singular and capitalized. Have been fucking hounding me about something but fuck if I really know what they want. I gotta do something, though, because...goddamnit, I'm fond of the little shits.

But yeah. Fucking Cormac? Have you seen a fucking Black Spiral Ahroun? They're nuts. Legit fucking crazy in a tear-your-intestines-out-and-wear-them way. Guess he took exception to me physically being unable to stomach being anywhere near work or the Hive. Also stealing the pack's bats. Possibly also destroying Phyber's computer, though honestly I think even he was a little weirded out by Phyber, so maybe not.

Also? Never in your fucking life ever call me "sweetcheeks" again.

[ Oni pulled a face, mock-shivering in fear at his description of his former packmate.

She knew, judging strictly by appearances, that she didn't look like much to sneeze at. Especially when one has not had the privilege (or misfortune) of seeing her naked, with all her many scars. Ya girl was strong. Maddy Forberg strong. Deadlift a fucking fridge strong. On the other hand, she was nobody's fool. Fights between wolves were an ugly enough affair, but battles involving two or more ahroun? Rarely were there winners in that kind of contest. ]

Hang on a second-- Do y'mean t'tell me those diseased fucking flying rats you've been hoarding are from Black Spiral Dancers?!

[ "HEY!" Han shouted, from under the table, and Oni winced. She sometimes forgot that his totem was Rat, singular and capitalized. ]

Seriously? The line you draw is anything looking vaguely like a rodent?

They're not diseased. I fucking make sure of that. They're well fed and well taken care of. And like hell was I gonna leave them with the pack. Those idiots would likely as not do something stupid and hurt the little things, and I'm not that kind of monster, babe. I was their main caregiver even before Pentex fucked with my head.

[ Again her mouth fell open, but Han yelled "NO WE DO NOT" before she could say anything, so instead she just threw her hands up in half-hearted defeat. ] D'ACCORD. Th'fuzzy little turds can stay.

I just figured, considerin' who their pack was, that they had some freaky toxic nonsense going on. Like, they bite you and your arm rots off. I don't think that's an unfair assumption.

Maybe if they'd lived with the Hive, that's be the case, babe, but we were Pentex's pets and we were a little more high class. Had a fancy little place that was clean and free of Wyrm shit.

Well excuse th'hell out of me.

[ She leaned back in her chair, smirking. ] Maybe that's why yer ole buddy Monsieur Cujo is so hot t'catch up with you. Maybe, th'way he sees it, y'already had one foot out th'door.

That's assumin' you're out. [ A gallic shrug. ] Sept alpha seems t'think so, but don't get it twisted. I don't trust you nearly as far as I can throw you.

He can talk, he leads a First Team.

And next time I get a whiff of Wyrm and my stomach decides enough's enough, I'll make sure to puke on your shoes. Just for you. Just because I care.

Did I imply he couldn't? You called him Cujo first, cher. Don't tell me I've struck a nerve.

[ As if in answer, she toed off her shoes and kicked them at his head. ] A Bone Gnawer in a previous life, per'aps. [ And then she smiled, enjoying the table's outrage. ]

Please, my bastard father was Irish. Definitely Fianna. [He caught the shoes easily enough, but instead of tossing them back, he tossed them up on a high shelf.] I've got the look. Well, except for the obvious. [He extends a hand and tattoos, not all of them Wyrmish, glow blue for a second.] Incidentally, I'm looking into magical tattoo removal.

[ There wasn't a word invented yet for the noise Oni made when she pictured Kevin with the only Fianna she knew personally: Locke.

At least Kevin had yet to try shoving his tongue down anyone's throats. She coughed to cover the sound. ]

Are y'looking for a referral, connard?

Edited 2020-02-23 21:00 (UTC)

You're breaking my heart.

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A++ icon choice

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